feren

Today I advanced my theory to lady_curmudgeon that college football could be made vastly more interesting if I could just get a thought shift to occur around mascot choices.

Imagine this: Instead of choosing something "noble" like the Wolf or the Husky or the Falcon, the coach and school go for something a bit more ... humble.

I submit for your consideration: the star-nosed mole.


Now, imagine that terrifying visage as a seven foot tall, terrycloth, nightmare-fuel mascot costume. Oh, the Moles are down 5 points in the final quarter? Trot this mascot out on the field for a quick pep rally. Watch the opposing team shriek and scatter in confusion and fear!

This is a game-changer, I'm telling you.

This entry was originally posted at http://feren.dreamwidth.org/433425.html and is the preferred location to read this journal!

In no particular order...

• I feel sorry for guys in the men's room who stand at the urinal and then proceed to undo their belt, button and zipper so they can drop trou to take a leak. I don't understand why it's necessary for you to have your waistband around your knees so I can see if you're a boxer or brief man. In either case it makes me feel sorry for you that you've never figured out the miracle of the zipper-by-itself.
  
• Why does my Dell Latitude 5160 laptop have a warranty that's vastly superior in length to that of my Apple MacBook? The Dell came out of the box with a three year warranty and they've actually extended it to February 15th of 2008. My Apple came with a one year warranty and the option to purchase "AppleCare" to cover it for a longer period. I love my MacBook, I really do, but Apple has a lot of catching up to do as regards to wooing customers with warranties that don't suck.
  
• The air conditioner for Z'ha'dum has learned a new trick: struggle 24x7 to maintain a temperature of 81 degrees in the house when the thermostat is set to 78 degrees. Since the A-coil isn't frozen and the condensing unit is running just fine (seemingly) I am of the opinion that I just need to add more R-22 ("Freon") to the system. Unfortunately for me, about 10 years ago it was determined by our good friends in the Legislature that consumers are simply too stupid to handle Freon, that Freon is detrimental to the environment and that only licensed individuals are qualified enough to hook a hose to a valve and recharge an air conditioning system. Even though it's been an absolutely lovely week since lady_curmudgeon and I got home (highs in the mid seventies -- I can leave the windows open and be more than comfortable), I guess I'll go for "peace of mind" and fork the money out to get an HVAC guy here to charge the system. $75 service charge just for them to show up? Sure, why not.
  
• Transformers: The Movie is clearly in need of an answer from a competing franchise, so why not have Voltron: The Movie? Dammit, ottr, why do you make me sad?

Something varro said in a comment to the entry previous to this one sparked a thought in my head. He said (as regards interdictor): He just was a competent person in the right place in the right time who showed grace under pressure. I replied, That is my definition of hero.

The things that have been posted to that journal over the last 72 hours have swung wildly from something approximating factual reporting to pure hubris, then over to highly controversial. Regardless of what you find yourself thinking about the content of the entries there, they continue to show one thing -- a group of very dedicated individuals doing a lot of work in the face of substantial obstacles. While he seems well on his way to becoming an Internet Celebrity for a number of reasons, Varro is completely right about the founder and main poster of interdictor: the man is nothing more than a fellow who is doing his job and doing it well. It hardly seems like anything remarkable, right? Despite the unusual circumstances he has found himself thrust into, isn't his job just to keep the servers up and running and handle the logistics of maintaining the data center? It's not like he's in the street personally fighting off vandals and thieves.

Still, I think the man is a hero. I think that whole region is filled with heros at the moment, people who are there to help by doing their jobs well, especially under pressure and these dreadful circumstances. Those people are this nation's unsung heros. From this fellow to the patrolmen, from the firemen to the rescue workers to the hundreds of IBEW linemen who are pouring into the region right now to restore electrical power, they're all heros if they can do their job safely and capably. We should be thankful for all the heros we have right now. Let's hope they stay safe so they can continue to save others.

You know, as much as I complain about my day-to-day trials and tribulations I really have things pretty easy. I come from a family that has, for all intensive purposes, been able to remain traditional and "whole." My father, while middle-class, has been able to position himself through frugal behavior and smart investments in a very favorable position where he will not be wanting for finances when he retires (whenever that will be... he should have retired last year, and now it seems that he won't retire this year either). Even before retirement began to loom on the horizon of his life he had settled himself in a very nice fiscal position, with the house and land paid off ten years early, a second plot of land purchased and paid for as well. He's held a steady job and advanced through the ranks as time passed without any real trouble. Along with expanding the homestead he has all the equipment he needs to keep the farm running, and pretty much all the toys he could think of owning -- all of it free and clear of any outstanding debt.

I am in much the same situation. Yes, I have an incredible amount of outstanding debt now that I've taken on the purchase of the house, but I'm already working on eroding that debt as quickly as possible. I also have outstanding debts on my credit cards now, but I'm working on erasing those as well with equal ferocity -- in a few short years I'll have no revolving debt and will have paid down a large portion of my home loans. Through it all I own my truck free-and-clear, I have a steady job that does not run the risk of disappearing tomorrow, and I get a load of benefits such as free tuition and company-sponsored medical insurance plans. When I look at it all I realize that I am truly blessed... because some people don't have these some of these things, and yet others don't have any of these things.

Some folks I know have set all the comforts and securities aside. The things I take for granted on a daily basis are almost entirely foreign to these individuals. They've struck out on their own, and are determined to be self-sufficient by doing the things they love doing, usually for an unappreciative public and at a considerably lower grade of pay than what they really deserve. The people I'm speaking of don't get free tuition, they don't have comprehensive medical coverage, they sometimes aren't even sure where tomorrow's money for groceries will be coming from. They're living in a way that could be generously be described as "hand to mouth," and it's taking its toll on them, slowly but surely it wears upon them. Despite the crushing weight of these worries they somehow manage to continue on, unwavering in their desire to remain independent, driven to prevail despite the odds that loom before them. They're dedicated, hard-working individuals who -- while struggling -- are doing something I couldn't ever do: they're living without guarantees. They don't know if the next sale they make will pay the rent, they aren't able to rely upon receiving a set amount of cash inflow every other week. It was this fear of uncertainty that prevented me from striking out on my own and forming my own company, something that I think would have left me a generally happier and more productive person. Still, as appealing as it was and as happy as I felt it would make me I couldn't break free. Yes, it was and still is a rut that I live in... but it's a comfortable rut, because there are certainties that come with it. I'm certain that I'll have a job tomorrow, I'm certain that my paycheck will be the same amount as it was the week before last. I'm certain that if I have to go to the hospital to get my tonsils or apprendix removed I'll have insurance coverage to handle it. The certainties, the guarantees... they're the chains that bind me, and I can't summon the courage to break them. I think that a lot of the general public is in this same position. Like Tyler said, "The things you own, end up owning you." It is the same with benefits and security... you pay a price for them. That cost can be so incalcuably high -- it can be the difference between safety and the freedom to do what you want. What protects me hinders me.

These friends of mine haven't just slipped free of these shackles, they've shattered them. As I said, they live without these guarantees, and while they're having a very hard go of it at present... they're still succeeding. Despite the odds that stand against them, despite the risks they run... they are still succeeding in being independent and doing what they love. They're doing what I can only dream of doing.

Sure, it's easy for some people to say they want to make their living as a writer or an artist, or to claim that they're doing so right now. Saying it doesn't make it true, however. A number of these people have a comfortable part-time or full-time job to fall back upon, or they can tap the household income provided by their spouse or significant other. While their art or writing may be impressive, those people are not the folks I want to recognize here. These friends I am referring to -- they are their own providers, their sole income is derived from the works they produce and sell. If they don't make a $150 sale they can't say "Oh darn, well, I guess I'll put in an extra day of filing at the office." They don't have that option and don't want it. If they don't make that sale they have to find an alternative sale of the same value, or hope to clear a number of smaller sales for the same figure if they want to make rent this month.

I hope these friends of mine know how much I look up to them, how greatly I admire their mettle and the dedication they show when they say I'm going to make this work. I couldn't be more proud of them and they deserve far more recognition than they receive not only for their creative efforts but simply for the bravery they have exhibited in striking out on their own. I hold them in the highest esteem and each day I aspire to be as self-sufficient and self-assured as they are.

I'm honored to call these distingiushed people my friends.

The spider won't forget

It's official as of 0730 this morning: Bogie (better known as That Damned Farting Coworker) has cancer of the esophagus. The doctors operate on him next Tuesday, and they figure it could go anywhere from four to eight hours in length. Nobody has an idea how long it will take him to recover from the surgery in the hospital or how long he'll be out of the office on disability. Of course, that's not the nastiest part, not by a long shot. The surgery is a painful and involved one: to ensure they're removing every last bit of the cancer they will have taken half his esophagus, and pulled his stomach up, removing about half of that as well, but it actually gets worse.

I dare you to guess what the real killer is, the single most vicious part of this little cosmic dance. Some of you might see this coming, but it certainly blindsided me: Once the operation is complete the doctor is still only giving him five years. Five years. Five years for the man who quit smoking and took up walking during lunch because he wanted to make himself a healthier person. Five years of life even after he's done being subjected to the pain and suffering of having the top half of his gastrointestinal tract removed. It's like some bizzare repeat of my cousin Priscilla's situation, only this time it's just some random cell that started growing out of control that's to blame instead of a doctor's ignorance. Five years. Five years of what? What kind of life is that, knowing that each day is numbered just like it was before... but that each number has suddenly become much, much more valuable because they've been taken from a limited supply to a piddling allocation? Wondering if you'll wake up in the morning, if you'll have any quality of life towards the end?

It's true that we're all dying. Now Bogie is just dying faster than the rest of us.

Five years, even with a successful "treatment."

And yet here I am.

It's hard to make that all fit, it's incredibly difficult to find the equation for it where both sides balance out. Survivor's Guilt is the popular term that shrinks like to sling around in cases like this, and I'm carrying a heavy case of it, especially given my family's medical history. It doesn't make any sense to me, how I went through eight months of treatment and got a clean bill of health. At the end of it I was waiting for some twist just like this, but it never came. It's as if some djinn emerged from a bottle and said "You have passed the trial, you may have your life back -- try to make the most of it." I got my life back after eight months of treatment, one type amongst many available to me... and Bogie is going through to endure the only treatment available for him, and he's still not going to come through the other side.

How in the blue fuck do you fit that into your world?

I cross the ocean for a heart of gold

A country singer named Aaron Tippin wrote a song, and in it he said, "You've got to stand for something or you'll fall for anything." Sometimes it is hard to know where to make your stand, or when to make it. Sometimes the penalty for doing so seems to vastly outweigh anything you've ever risked.

If there is anything to be said, I guess I would say this: Never regret your decision to stand. The cost of your conviction may be high, but never regret your decision to stand.

My George Carlin calendar had an interesting observation for the weekend, which was particularly apropos given it was St. Valentine's Day on Saturday.

Griddle cakes, pancakes, hotcakes, flapjacks: why are there four names for grilled batter and only one word for love?

He makes a good case.

Bill Left, a morning deejay on WNND (the 80s and 90s station I am always listening to) succinctly summed up what's wrong with American culture today when he said, "And once more this goes to prove that naked people [on tv] are bad, but killing people as violently as possible is perfectly okay."

owner of a lonely heart

Well, I spent my first night in the house last night. Here's what I've learned thus far, in no particular order:

It absolutely rocks to have a garage -- my truck had no snow upon it this morning. Actually, there was something sort of neat to see when I came out to the garage: little rivlets of water were snaking their way across the garage floor where some of the slush had melted out of the wheelwells.

The road noise from behind the back yard that I was concerned about isn't at all bad, and can almost be soothing when I'm trying to get to sleep and am jittery.

I need to replace the leaky bypass valve on the water softener. That has now been elevated to Chore Priority Alpha because I cannot stand the sound of water dripping into the bucket all night and day. I also don't like paying for water that's going to go to waste in such a fashion.

It is rather odd having a water softener again after 8 years of service with lake water that has been pre-conditioned by the city. I could feel the difference in the shower this morning.

62 degrees F (about 16.5 degrees Celcius) is pretty much the ideal setting for my thermostat. I may tinker with it a little more to see if I can't coax it down to 61 or 60. 60 degrees would be ideal in my mind so long as I wear a fleece or something around the house. A few degrees saved is a few dollars I won't have to hand over to Nicor at the end of the month, and with all the labor I'm doing (unpacking, installing, repairing, etc) around the place I exert myself plenty enough to stay warm.

Shoveling the driveway and sidewalk takes me about 30 minutes.

Shoveling the driveway and the sidewalk is an excellent source of exercise in the morning

Nothing feels better than a shower after being outside in the snow and the cold to shovel a sidewalk and driveway.

I love the showerhead in my shower.

I love having the master bathroom off the master bedroom.

With a "snow emergency" like the one we're experiencing today I can make my 20 mile commute in 60 minutes,. That's not too bad, all considered.

People in Illinois have no concept of what a snowstorm really is. If they're freaking out over this trivial coating of powder (OOooOOoooh, a whole THREE INCHES) then they'd never survive a real storm in Minnesota. I'm sure Canadians laugh at all of us.

More thoughts as they come.

bound by wild desire

After more than a decade of service, my Sony "Dream Machine" clock-radio has finally ceased to function. I suppose everyone will think I'm a lunatic for saying this, but this makes me feel rather sad. Part of that is sentimental, as the alarm clock was a gift from my father a long time ago. That clock saw me through high-school, my first job and four separate moves. Part of it is a little less sentimental and a bit more anal-retentive: it's been a part of my morning routine ever since I received it. In any case it had been a fathful companion for over ten years, and now it's gone.

This also leaves me in a lurch for how I'm going to get up tomorrow. Due to the weather I need to get up at 5:30 to make sure I have a lot of time for the drive in to work... but I have no way to wake myself up (My body's "internal alarm clock" got reset from 5:45 AM to 8:15 AM during vacation). I guess I'll pull down an application for my PC and use it along with my speakers to act as a makeshift alarm until I can buy a suitable replacement.