Not Like the Rest

I was chided the other day by my wife.  “You are scowling in most of their pictures.  That is why out of, like, 200 pictures you are in 3.”  She had been scanning the posted pictures from our friend’s recent wedding.  The wedding where I was a groomsman and was expected to help put the decorations up (while mingling), go to take pictures (while mingling), and be a part of the ceremony, reception, and after party (which all included mingling). “Why can’t you just pretend to be having a good time?” 

I am going on a ski weekend trip to Vail, Colorado in December.  This is mostly due to an unexpected airline credit I have.  “So, who are you going with?” my wife asked.  (Uncomprehending stare) “What do you mean”, I finally responded.  “Well, you’re going to want to go with someone.  I’m assuming Courtney, maybe someone else”, she continued.  “Ah, why would I want to go with anyone?”   I am met with raised eyebrows followed by “Most people would want to go with someone.”

I almost never go to parties if I can help it. I never go to concerts.  I hate most social functions. The idea of having to make small talk in a room full of people I have never met and will never meet again is my version of Hell. The notion of being surrounded by a sweaty, clamoring, mass of people in a confined, dark space while uncomfortably loud music is playing…are you kidding?  If I have to go to a store, or heaven forbid, a mall I usually bring an MP3 player to simply drown out the crowd and give me some notion of space, through auditory dampening.   This is the only way I can go Christmas shopping.   Plus, you can actively ignore any sales clerk who wants to shill out some idiotic store brand credit card, promotion, etc. I am told this makes me appear rude.

I am so exhausted.  I am so very, very exhausted.  It is hard for most people to understand this.  I am an introvert.  To most people this means shy, quiet, socially awkward, or even stuck-up.  This could not be farther from the truth.  To many, being introverted is something that needs to be fixed.  Or it means you are incapable of having a truly good time.  “You just need to get out there, don’t be so afraid of rejection.”  “Hey, why are you always going places by yourself?  Are you depressed or something?”  “Stop scowling.  It’s a party. Lighten up.” I am exhausted of having to wear a mask and go through the oh-so-tired and predictable motions so that everyone else can feel comfortable. Why does no one ever try and make me feel comfortable by understanding I don't want to socialize?  No, I have to slap on a grin and make small talk for everyone else.  That isn't to say that chilling out in a quiet bar and talking with a few people who can actually converse isn't my idea of fun. No, going to a loud, frat-style, house party and having to scream at people just to be heard and force myself to dance/grind to shit hip-hop, that is my nightmare.

It is an extrovert dominated world and anyone who is different is obviously not normal.  75% of the population is extrovert in nature.  My sister works in bars and night clubs, my brother is a stand-up comedian. They love gatherings and functions, anything with other people. I am an archaeologist and spend most of my time in a quiet archive, office, or in vast amounts of empty expansive dessert.  I go to movies alone, snowboard alone, and do house projects alone.  This doesn’t mean I hate my family; I wouldn’t have a family if I wanted to be utterly and completely solo.  That isn’t even what it means to be an introvert.  And it is concerning to me what an obstacle this can be for those I love.

Despite what you may think from what I wrote above, my wife and I have a very deep and full understanding of one another.  She truly does get me and I can same the same of her.  We can talk for hours and never get bored.  That was why I fell in love with her.  The misconception about introverts is that it is all or nothing.  If you don’t like being around people then that means all people.  Wrong.  We only want to be around those we care about and if that means you then you should feel pretty damn good about it. You may only be one in ten.  The rest of you…

War Is Hell

So, LJ and I were having a conversation this morning and we started arguing over what turned into a quite a contentious subject.  What actor has been in the most war movies. She chose Matt Damon for Geronimo (American Indian Wars),  Saving Private Ryan (WWII), Courage Under Fire (Desert Storm) and The Green Zone (Iraq War).  I chose John Wayne who was in movies covering the Civil War, Mexican American War, WWII, Vietnam and the Cold War, though eventually we both agreed to throw out any dead actors. As with any good game there are rules to this; check them out below then submit your nominee. The winner gets total movie respect from all who dared to play.

1)      Must be a living actor.  Looking for A-list actors not stunt men or extras. *dead actors can be used for      cool points, though I already called John Wayne.

2)      Looking for variety of conflict zones not numbers of movies from one zone (eg. 8 movies from WWII only counts as one conflict zone).

3)      The actor can’t be in flashback only.  It must be a speaking bit and in uniform.  For example,  Matt Damon in The Legend of Bagger Vance wouldn’t count because he is only seen in uniform in a brief segment of the movie and does not speak in that segment.  However, Matt Damon in Courage Under Fire would count because half of the movie is in flashback and there are speaking bits in those flashbacks.

4)      We are only counting American conflicts. However, the character can play a role in the opposing or allied military force.  Just so long as American was involved in the conflict.  For Example Ed Harris and Jude Law would count for Enemy at the Gates, even though it was a movie about the Russians and Germans during WWII because America was involved.  Mel Gibson in Braveheart wouldn’t count because it is not an American war.

5)      It can be a fictional story based on a real conflict, but not a fictional conflict. This will be hard when it comes to Cold War movies.  Red Dawn and Hunt for Red October wouldn’t count because they never happened and while they are based on Cold War fears, they aren’t about real events.

6)      Must involve a fight sequence to count for Native American Wars. Not just a bunch of soldiers sitting around a fort in the 1800’s. This is because this conflict is difficult to gauge due to there not being a front-line or solid time frame.

7)      Commander-in-Chief doesn’t count or any political adviser, unless that character shows up in the conflict zone in uniform.

8)      Finally, no television shows or mini-series. Sorry Band of Brothers fans we had to draw the line somewhere.

List the title of the movie and conflict your actor is in.

Bringing Up the Next Generation

Wow, it has been a while…like a long while. I’m not sure if I’m going to keep this up, but who knows? Maybe this will be a rebirth of more half-assed revelations, rambling half-assed diatribes and, of course, half-assed innovations that no one asked for or needs.

Let me get some basics out of the way. It has been four years since my last post. I am now the father of a very precocious three year old girl, husband to a cute/crafty budget analyst and owner of the world’s dumbest, yet somehow endearing pit-bull. I have become a home owner. I am a salaried archaeologist and I have finally become financially stable. Ok, enough of that, let’s move onto something else.

Last week my daughter was looking through the game closet and found our old Nerf guns way in the back. Yes, my wife and I have Nerf guns. Moving forward, Nevada exclaims “I want dis, I want dis.” Now I want to assure you that as a parent I had some compunction about letting my daughter play with these particular toys…for like three seconds. Before you knew it my daughter was ducking incoming nerf fire and running tactical ops on mommy at the end of the hallway. I must admit after the initial shock of having her parents chasing her with play firearms she fell in quite quickly.

I would like to point out that a day before this episode she came running into the kitchen with an improved lego gun, of her own design, and shot up the joint like a scene from any Tarantino film. She has never shied away from violence. In her Supergirl costume she will run up and, with sound effects, pummel us into submission. I swear the most violent thing we watch with her is Blue’s Clues and she has never seen me in my Superhero costume. So, here is a clear-cut case of nature vs. nurture.

Back to our game of “guns”, as it was coined by Nevada; she had so much fun that she didn’t want to stop for a nap and after she woke up it was the first word from her mouth. The game evolved and we each took on personas. Nevada became an old west deputy with a cowgirl hat, badge and sidearm. I became a leather jacketed renegade cop with a bad attitude and, coincidentally, a three day beard. And LJ was…um…a ragged mother on the edge? Well, it was fun. While I may have had reservations about shooting my little girl with nerf guns at first I must admit it came with some small satisfaction very quickly. Especially when after the game was in a temporary lull and she we would be gathering up stray ammo, she would come running up and exclaim “You got me Daddy! Right here (pointing to her belly),” always with a big smile on her face.

My father forbid play guns in our house because he didn’t want us thinking guns were toys. I was banned from watching G.I. Joe or owning any of the action figures. Yet still my brother and I would use any and everything that may even resemble a gun to shoot each other. So, maybe this is some ingrained behavior. Well, at least when she starts playing with the other neighborhood kids she will dominate.

No Credentials

I talked to my sister today and the subject of her writing came up. For those of you who don’t know my sister: for her, discussion on the noble art of literature and pros comes as naturally to conversation as the subject of beer and sports does to a group of homophobic frat-boys. She told me about how she is gearing up to write two articles to send off for possible publication in a magazine or two. Ballsy, I thought. Especially considering how terrified of public forums my sister seems to be.

My sister “Ace” is an English major with the hopes to one day toil in the field of…journalism…editing…something to do with the written word. She was telling me this just off the back of a short discourse on my job hunt (which is coming along, but nothing solid yet) and it seemed that she was relating to my ambitions with some of her own. I may be reading the situation incorrectly, as I have been known to do that one time, but she seems terrified of the reactions people might have. Maybe due to content, but I feel much more likely that she is worried about bad reviews.

So, what did I say in response to her fears in regards to a serious attempt at publication? I try and relate using, of all things, this blog; oh the shame. I tell her not to take herself too seriously because a majority of my writing experience is based on poo (yes, literally). I tell her to just put herself out there and not to worry about what people think, even though the only people ever to read my work are relatives, close friends, people who were looking for legitimate medical advice and Segway enthusiasts from Germany. I am sure I came off as an arrogant ass who is way to into his little off-again on-again hobby, and who’s only criteria for publication is a computer with an internet hookup and the delusion that you have something to say. Well Ace, it’s called Half-Assed for a reason. Sorry.

For years she has been writing on her own and for assignments. In that time she has always had some reason to not show me her work. I guess I was just too curious. Honestly, I just want to see how she writes and what she has to say. Hell, it has to be more insightful than a diatribe about turd angling. My brother was the same way about his comedy. He wouldn’t let us come and see him do any stand-up until he was somewhat established. I suppose I need to just lay-off, be patient and then ravenously eat up whatever tidbit she throws my way when she’s ready.

FREEDOM!

Sorry to all. I haven’t blogged in a while and that is due in large part to my old job. Yes, you read correctly “Old Job”. “Old”, taken from the Latin meaning not receiving paychecks from, and Job meaning place where one dies slowly. No, the deterioration of my marriage, coupled with the terrified wails from my infant daughter who had no recollection of me every time I returned home. Not to mention the fact that I went to bed one evening in a crappy hotel in Battle Mountain Nevada, the armpit of America, and realized that I was spending my precious life living out of a suitcase, have convinced me that it was definitely time to be moseying on.

Of course before taking this huge leap I had a long discussion with LJ and we decided that the income was just not worth the time lost with those I love and the monetary loss. So, I gave my two weeks and haven’t heard from my last employer since. Well, except for them wanting their keys and credit card back…touchy.

Now here I sit at home, mid-day, typing up a post for a blog that has done little more than gather virtual dust since I started working out of town. I will admit I feel like a man walking out of a fog. Everything is getting clearer and better. I can see the horizon…whatever that means. It’s just that for so long I was on this cycle of going out for eight days and coming back for six that I started putting things off. What that boils down to is that I was putting my life off.

It turns out that my dream job wasn’t really my dream job. I just kept with it because I was good at it and everyone had expectations. I’m sure my parents will be somewhat disappointed, but that doesn’t really bother me. I was miserable I just never stopped to see it. The job caused my marriage to get distant and even bitter, my parents can attest to that as they came out recently and were witness to more than a little of it. I mean the fact was that I was never salaried (those that find salaried positions in archaeology are damned lucky), I was always gone, I had to work crazy hours, and I had little dignity or working rights. Hell, I even fooled myself into thinking I was just paying my dues. What I was actually doing was setting up shop at a dead-end road.

Let me just dispel some myths for all you young up and coming Anthro/Arch majors. Your degree has no market value. While I know that most of you don’t realize what that means, as you probably chose this major due to its lack of math course requirements, fear not for I shall spell it out for you. All of you will go through the hell of graduating and have a degree that while tough to earn translates into no real money. So, you can do one of two things. Buy a higher level degree that may get you a better chance at finding a paying gig (though it will hardly be worth the loans you’ll be paying off for said education as most archaeologists never break 60K a year), or you can wise up and get employment with a job that has some kind of demand. It basically comes down to this, the only reason archaeologists have jobs is because of a law or to perpetuate the field (i.e. Professors). This is a career for very few and a hobby for the rest of the market driven world.

I sound bitter. Let me digress for a moment. I’m happy, my marriage is back on track, my daughter loves me and smiles whenever she sees me, and I have started to have energy for things that I used to love. I’m cooking great, fancy meals with my wife again. I can start thinking about camping and climbing and backpacking. I might take my SCUBA gear up to Lake Tahoe. It is just that with the prospect of being in town I feel like I can do all the things that I love to do without being exhausted or resting up and dreading the next upcoming session. Seriously, I have done hardly any of things that make me, me. Now I can.

Yes, I need to find a job, but honestly I’m not too concerned about that. I have never had a hard time getting employment and I feel like I can come off as one professional SOB in most any job market. I typed this while on a break from applying for some local and even international jobs. Well anyway, I am hopeful for the future and even for this blog. Now that I have some time I will probably do more posting. Wish me luck, I’ll keep you informed.

Let There Be Science

This will be a long one…

I heard a news story recently about how Texas was going to be ordering new science text books for their public schools. What caught my attention was that due to printing costs the publishers of the textbooks only use the ones sold to Texas as the format for the rest of the country. So, what the schools board of Texas tells them they want included or excluded will be what the rest of the nation gets. The conflict for me is that the Texas school board is asking that Creationism and Intelligent Design be included and that the Theory of Evolution be downplayed. They will do this by turn of phrase and disclaimers like the stickers placed in Cobb county school books.

And here we go again. You know I have had this conversation with several people since hearing about it and I always get the same series of points. “Our founding fathers were religious and never intended to take God out of the public forum”, and “Well, if God shouldn’t be in schools why is it printed on our money?” and the old standby “Why shouldn’t children be taught all sides of the issue and allowed to make up their own minds?” I can’t tell you how tired I am of that bullshit.

First: The United States Constitution at no point even mentions the word God, Deity, or Higher Power. Not in the preamble or in the articles or in the ratification. The only part that has anything to do with spirituality is the first amendment which states “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances. “
Now, though some might interpret this as a blank check to start infusing government with religion (especially the Christian religion ) lets look at the original wording so you can see what the thought process of the founding fathers was. "The civil rights of none shall be abridged on account of religious belief or worship, nor shall any national religion be established, nor shall the full and equal rights of conscience be in any manner, or on any pretence, infringed.'' - James Madison (Original wording of the First Amendment; Annals of Congress 434 (June 8, 1789).) Let me just emphasize that; No one group gets any more say than another, no national religion, no ones rights infringed. That means everyone who isn’t a Christian should have equal representation.
I’m sure some of you might argue that our founding fathers were Christians so it can be easily inferred that they meant the Judeo-Christian ethic should be put first as that is the basis of our American society. Alright, lets just pound this home for you all. "As the Government of the United States of America is not in any sense founded on the Christian religion; …” - (Treaty of Tripoli, 1797 - signed by President John Adams.) There it is, clearly stated by a founding father that America is not founded solely on the Christian faith.

Second: The whole “In God We Trust” on our money and the “Under God” in the pledge. Ok, the phrase “In God We Trust” was added to our currency and adopted as the “national motto” during the red scare of the 1950’s spearheaded by the rightwing religious organization The Knights of Columbus and fueled by McCarthyism. The phrase was added to freaking everything and religious texts and wording were put into schools and public buildings across the nation much like the mandatory display of swastikas in Germany during the previous decade. It basically put out the notion that If you aren’t with us, then you aren’t American. Kinda like the fervor in the beginning of the Iraq war. The original U.S. motto was “E Pluribus Unum” (from many, one), a much more fitting phrase to describe our nation if you ask me. “Under God” has much the same story and was added to the pledge. The pledge of course was made mandatory in 1940 and then later repealed on the basis of the first amendment. Summation; “In God We Trust” was not the American motto laid down by our forefathers and is actually quite counter to their ideals and linked very strongly to a disturbing time in our past.

Third: Tyranny of the majority, is an idea that if unchecked a simple majority will ruin this country by making unfair, unbalanced, and unequal. James Madison wrote in Federalist Paper 51: "It is of great importance in a republic not only to guard the society against the oppression of its rulers but to guard one part of the society against the injustice of the other part. If a majority be united by a common interest, the rights of the minority will be insecure." It may be overwhelmingly popular to do something that the people want but, the freedoms of others and the separation of church and state must come first. Yes, Christianity is the largest religion in the country and it is for that reason we must work all the harder to make sure that its tenants don’t start tainting everything or soon we won’t have a democracy it will be a country like Iran. Public schools especially should be free from any political, social and religious agendas due to the diverse nature of the families that attend them.

In conclusion it is right that Intelligent Design and Creationism be taught in places where these beliefs can be shared by the group that wishes them taught. Places like private schools that are not funded by the state or federal government and in Sunday Schools. However, due to the nature of these ideas it is wholly improper for them to be taught in science classes. A science class is a place where theories are gathered from unbiased sources and where they can be changed and challenged. Religion on the other hand is doctrine and must remain unchallenged. The only basis for these ideas is a belief in God and the evidence stemming from one source, the Bible. Further, the ideas of some are not the ideas of all and if the classroom must play host to one religion’s ideas on creation they would have to play host to all. For these reasons it is imperative that religion not play a part in our public education programs. Benjamin Franklin once said "When a Religion is good, I conceive it will support itself; and when it does not support itself, and God does not take care to support it so that its Professors are obliged to call for help of the Civil Power, it is a sign, I apprehend, of its being a bad one."

Whoooo are You?

Alright! Jeeze, don’t you people understand writer’s block/laziness/boardom/14 hour work days? Fine, filling in for the last nine months…

So, nine months ago LJ was getting to be pretty pregnant, not just a little, but like really pregnant. Then everything just kinda shifted. It’s a hard thing to express, but it was one of those life-changing moments like when you have sex for the first time. You lay there next to whoever and think back to all the health classes, church sermons and after school specials and you say to yourself “Wow…that’s it? That was what all the hype was over? I mean damn it was fun-n-all, but really that’s all there is to it? Did I do it right or is everyone else just too high-strung?”

I guess what I mean to say is that with everyone coming at me with the monumental moment it was supposed to be, all the Hallmark bullshit, all the “Oh your lives are going to change so much now”, or “How does it feel?” You’d think you were supposed to be instantly a changed man. Right?

This is my blog and on this blog I have always felt that I should cut away any artful double-speak and flowered lies. On this blog from me to you, the reader, it’s truth time. Well, I can tell you definitively. Right here and now that I feel exactly the same as I did the minute before LJ asked me “Do you remember when I had my last period?” I still have a passion for guns and action movies. My xbox time remains unchanged. And I still drop the F-bomb* on occasion.

While my life has changed to some degree, my opinions, attitudes, and lust for adventure and all things new remains unaltered. This, however, is not to suggest that I was not excited to see my child for the first time or that I am only self interested. I love my Daughter and all the things she represents. I am merely stating (mostly to the men out there, except those emotional types who think Fall-Out Boy is cool and own at least one pastel polo shirt) that having a child is not this cornerstone event in a dude’s life. Now, for a woman…yeah, probably and for many good reasons. But, for a guy, eh not from what I can see yet. It is only one moment in a long chain of life’s moments.

As an example: This Christmas my parents and grandparents went in on a big gift for me. They told me it was going to take a while due to some shipping issues, but that I should be on the lookout for a large box on my patio. As the weeks passed I grew more and more anxious. Then finally one day, between sessions, there was a knock at the door. The UPS guy had this enormous box by his feet. I quickly signed the ledger and yanked the package inside. As I did I noticed a Land’s End logo on the side. “Eh”, I thought. “Probably just the largest box they could find. My dad orders a lot of stuff from Land’s End after all.” So, with LJ on the couch I rip into the box with all sorts of anxiety. What could it be? It was kinda heavy, and I could feel the contents shifting inside. My stomach was in a knot.

Button-down shirts, slacks. My mind is racing, “This can’t be right.” I said to LJ, noticing a slightly pitying expression on her face. I go back to the box. Another button-down shirt (this one yellow, Yellow?!). I check the delivery address. “Oh my God.” I say, looking up to LJ. “It was sent to the correct address. (back to the box) My family bought me a…blazer.” I held it up for Laura to see. “Oh, I’m sorry sweetie” she says, as though to a child who is hoping for a cool ray-gun from his distant relatives and instead gets socks. Not even cool socks, but argyle.

While I appreciated the gesture. Truly I did. I am just not the kinda guy who will ever, EVER, wear that kinda stuff. But, I feel this illustrates how people get when a child is brought into your life. “Well, you’re a father now. Time to shave your Mohawk, wear douchey clothing, and eat Cinabon’s at the mall.” Let me tell you. No sir! NO! Being a good father and role model, at least in my mind, has nothing to do with how you choose to look. After all, screw everyone else. I let them dress the way they want; let them do the things they want to do and don’t judge them for it. I should get the same deference. Here is the bottom line. I have a good job where I am respected by my peers and clients. I spend as much time with my family as I can and I am a good influence (well, as far as I can tell). So, don’t think I’m a different person. I’m not. Having a baby was one of the best things that ever happened to me and I don’t want her to know anyone other than who her father really is. So, having a baby is a big life event, however it is not a life changing one. Unless you mean it in regards to the comparative amounts of dirty diapers I changed then as compared to now of course.

And to my family. I want you to understand that I know the Christmas gift was sent out of love. I am not ungrateful. I just didn’t want to have a bunch of clothes in the back of the closet gathering dust. So, I returned them and got something a little more likely to see some use; a little more me. I got a bitch’n Snowboard, and I love it! Thank you so much. I love you all.

*Fuck. Yeah, you were probably wondering if I had forgotten. How could I ever forget a hanging profanity? Don’t you people know me at all?

Testing

This is a test, Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep

Girls, Girls, Girls

I found out a week ago, but I was out on session in very remote Nevada. The baby is a girl. I am very happy. Before you all get worked up into a pink and frilly lather though, let me be quite clear. My baby is going to be a tom-boy and awesome to boot. So, no little bonnets and lacey dresses; No pink teddy bears and Barbi dolls. This girl is going to kick ass just like her old man. Not to say that she won’t be a drop dead knock out, who can be just as feminine as any other chick. Think of a cross between Lara Croft, Joan Jett, and Katharine Hepburn.

I’m totally stoked to meet her. I have so much to show her. The only real problems I can think of are the lame, misogynistic activities that are crammed down girl’s throats nowadays. I mean from my limited experience with the girl scouts, it is damn near impossible to go hiking or repelling and don’t even think about not selling cookies. Hell, you can’t even be a dude and be involved as an adult leader. She’ll have to deal with guys always thinking she can’t drive stick (which she will by age five) or that she won’t know anything about cars. The attitudes surrounding all sorts of “this is for boys”, “that is for girls” bullshit.

Still, I won’t get too concerned about it yet. Besides if she is anything like LJ and I she won’t really care about or tolerate people like that. I just can’t wait to have this kid. Man, what a trip. Me…a dad.

I have some pictures. Now, the orange one looks a bit weird because it’s a 3D imaging software that they use, not an actual image from inside the uterus. I also cropped out the umbilical chord for you queasy wusses.

The hand one, I was told by a reliable source, was taken just after my little girl was making another gesture. From the description, and my genetic influences I can only assume it was something like this.

Finally, we are trying to come up with baby names. My personal favorite thus far is Autumn Rose, but LJ isn’t a fan. We have heard suggestions ranging from Carson to Nicollet (ewww). So, if you have any ideas be sure to shoot ‘em our way. I’ll try and keep you updated.

Cold Steel & Hot Lead

*written about five months ago

Well it finally came. My Schofield is here and it is beautiful! I went to pick it up the day after I got back from my last session and I was amazed. This is the first real gun I have ever owned and I must admit that the feeling is a little weird. It came in an unremarkable cardboard box and was wrapped in an, oil soaked, plastic bag. I was astounded at how heavy it was. The thing is a hand-cannon. When I got it home I realized that I needed to not only get a case for it (so I wouldn’t have to keep it wrapped in a rag), but also a trigger lock and an actual gun safe. So, I headed back out to a local hunting store to get all this. It all cost me less than I thought (the remains of my per diem from last session) and I had it all installed before LJ got home.

I bought some ammo as well. Now, this is no peashooter, the thing is a .45 colt; the second largest caliber to be had for any normal hand gun (the shells themselves are actually bigger than any 50 caliber like the Desert Eagle) and it aint cheap. A pack of 50 cost me thirty bucks. Have I gone out and fired it? No, not as yet. Why? Well, let me be honest. I haven’t fired a real gun in years. The last one I did fire was somewhat smaller than this one and I was at a range when I did. Not to mention the gun and the ammo are both expensive as hell. So maybe I’m a little gun shy, not really a pun in this case. I will fire it though, but before I do I want to get eye, and ear protection. Again this is a very big gun and it is going to make a very loud bang, so I just want to be ready.

I did purchase snap-caps. Snap-caps are little mockup bullets that allow you to repeatedly dry fire your gun without damaging it. I got these for the purpose of getting the feel for thumbing and fanning the trigger for practice. However, this particular gun is a “top-break” which means that the barrel and revolver lever forward if a latch is pulled from the top. The latch unfortunately is released by the same motion as fanning your hand back and over the hammer. This could lead to ejecting all your rounds and looking like a complete dumb-ass in front of all the other cowboys. So, I’ve decided that fanning will either take way more control than I currently possess or it is just not the way this gun can be operated. Not that it really matters right now though; as I will be treating the thing like a rattlesnake with another head on it’s ass.

I haven’t, as yet, come up with a good name for it, but I am working on one. I think a gun and a cowboy have to have some history first before a name can come forth. You can’t just slap any old name on your trusty sidearm. It has to be sentimental, hence the whole cowboy romanticism thing. I think LJ would probably resent me using her name and my dog Zeus’ name is just too ostentatious. Maybe I could use my grandmother’s name. She’s tough as nails and I’m sure she packs a hell of a punch. I dunno. It’s still a work in progress.

Further, I don’t need any tired old, clichéd, movie reference jokes about shooting my eye out. I’m not one to be superstitious, and it was cute when I had a BB gun, but the thought of a ricocheting .45 slug hitting me in the eye is an idea I want far from my consciousness. If anything tell me I’ll get hamburgers thrown at me or I’ll sit on a tack. You know something unpleasant, yet non-lethal. Plus, I’ll be incredibly careful with it, so try not to worry.

On a completely different note, LJ wants me to grow a beard. Is that out of the blue or what? So I am currently twelve days into “Beard Growth ‘07”. I’ll see where this leads, but so far it is pretty unremarkable.

Epilogue:

I have fired it now, a few times. The fist time I fired it a piece of gun metal dislodged from somewhere and hit me in the cheek (this hasn’t happened since). What you have to realize about guns like this is that they are very open. Automatics, like the kind you see on TV where the magazine is slammed into the grip, are very closed. This is because they use all extra gas and force to chamber the next round. My gun is an exact replica of the ones used almost 140 years ago. The technology was much more rudimentary. So, you have to expect some debris when fired. Anyway, I pulled the metal shard out when I got home with some tweezers and an exacto-knife. Results? I am a piss poor shot, but to quote Hell Boy, “I’m not a very good shot, but this gun uses really big bullets.” Also, my parents got me a training gun that is a .22 colt replica, so I’ll be able to practice more often at way less the cost.

Stand by

Wow, it has really been a while since I posted anything. Why? I dunno, I guess I just haven’t had the motivation. Maybe laziness or apathy. You know, I was sitting up last night and flicking through some old word files on lappy and I came across like three posts that I had written and then never posted. I sat there wondering why I hadn’t. My conclusion was that I had held myself to too high a standard. When I quit writing I had become frustrated with my posts. I felt like the words didn’t flow and that the subjects weren’t that good and that maybe I was getting stale. So, I re-read some of my old posts and realized that I was being too hard on myself. It isn’t like I had any fans, and I wasn’t going to be winning any blog awards. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I will start posting again. I may even post some of the ones that I never published.

That said; in the next couple of days I will post an old one about my schofield, with an epilogue so as to keep everyone up to date. Then I’ll finish up one I wrote about substitute teaching that I need to add a bit more to. After that I hope to start one about the band I’m in. Then…well…we’ll just see. I do feel a bit rusty. All this time not writing has had a serious toll on my style and candor on “paper”. I am somewhat eager to get going again too. Maybe to even revamp my page a bit, but let’s not get too crazy just yet. I would like to chronicle some stuff about my experiences leading up to the birth of my first kid. So, here I am throwing myself back in. Maybe this time for real.

Darth Mark

LJ and I threw a Halloween party last weekend. Too bad it was the weekend after Halloween, so the turn out wasn’t great, but that wasn’t the reason we threw it after all. Some of you may already know this, but for like the last year LJ has been working on a costume for me. “A year!?” you might exclaim. Yes, well perfection takes a while.

You see last year LJ made a Mary Poppins outfit that was bang-on perfect. She sewed together a skirt and a jacket. She knitted a scarf and even went to thrift stores to find just the right hat to then craft into looking exactly like the one Julie Andrews wore in the movie. It looked so good that she even got herself a parrot head umbrella to complete the ensemble. After her success with that she asked if I wanted a costume.

Seeing her prowess behind a sewing machine I knew that I could ask for damn near anything and it would be brilliant, so I asked for the best costume ever…Darth Maul. This turned out to be no easy feat. Not only did this costume require watching Star Wars: The Phantom Menace (the worst of all the Star Wars movies) over and over, it also required gathering little bits of costume data from across the net. You see while Mary Poppins was tricky to make there is about a zero percent chance that a fat, acne scared, virgin Poppins fanatic would pick apart her costume until she snapped. While Star Wars on the other hand is serious nerd territory and if I dawned this costume at any “Con” ever, or just walked past someone who knows what a Con is I would be subject to the strictest reticule. This really put the pressure on to make it exact.

Not to mention the different disciplines this costume required. There was fabric that had to look and flow a certain way. No patterns to go off of and a fair amount of leather work. Not to mention that I would have to wear full head prosthetics and make-up. LJ had to make a body mold of me to work on all the various robes while I was on my sessions. She actually got the whole thing finished the day of the party and I had a friend come over to do my make-up. We started at about 5pm and got done right at 8 (party time). The results? Spectacular. I was photographed all night and people kept asking about my costume. LJ and Nate (the friend) took great pride in this and rightfully so. For my part, I was able to sit still for three hours while having make-up applied, have the right body type, look menacing and kill people with the force.

Oh, I may have neglected to mention but my eyes weren’t photo shopped I am wearing prescription yellow and red contacts. They are great. I can drive or fight Jedi with them in. Since LJ was making the costume so precisely I felt a desire to help complete it with a perfect prop light saber. I had a guy make it for me out of condensed aluminum. Yes, it cost a lot, but damn it, if you are going to go through all the trouble of getting the make-up on, wearing special contacts and having the perfect costume why would you ruin it with some crappy knock-off, plastic toy? This beauty will be mounted on my wall next to all my other swords. Hell, the clasp on my belt is even movie correct.

So anyway, here are some of the pictures taken early on that night because we were worried about my paint coming off; it didn’t by the way.

Merry Halloween!

I am disgusted; there I said it. The feeling has been mounting year after year, until now it has come to a head. As with most things I was able to bottle up my growing rage inside so that I could release it at an appropriate moment like at a girl scout selling cookies or at the teenager handing my food over at the drive through. Yet, now I feel it’s my duty to address the problem strait on.

Christmas has crossed the line! In years past Christmas was held firmly in the later weeks of November and into December. Now though, when LJ and I went to check out the Halloween display at Target we were greeted with massive displays of tacky Santa Clauses in glittering lights situated just behind the paltry Halloween display. Like the loud drunk at a holiday party begging for your attention just behind your friend that you haven’t seen in a while. It is unbelievable to me that Christmas decorations were put on the shelves in the late weeks of September and will remain there slowly engulfing other holiday displays, like a growing cancer, until December is over. That’s over three months! More than a quarter of the year!

I can’t speak for everyone, but I love every holiday individually. Halloween is probably my favorite though. So, this is a call to arms to all my fellow Halloween’ers (that didn’t sound right). Maybe we should call ourselves something else…like…pumpkin fuckers; I’ll keep working on it. Anyway, we need to send a message to Christmas by kidnapping Santa, tying him up and taking over his holiday. Hmmm, sounds like a Tim Burton movie plot. Maybe instead we should just spray paint all the tacky decorations black and hang little jack-o-lanterns from the fake trees. We can beat the store managers with large sacks of candy or dead cats and do the thriller dance in the parking lots of all major retailers, before the cops show up.

I like that way better. Screw Christmas! We need more holidays with a tinge of the macabre. Maybe we should start hanging decorations for other holidays that have a slight morbidity. Like nooses around the necks of leprechauns or an evil looking bunny carrying severed heads in its basket. Christmas is pretty good already, though we’d have to use nailed up on a cross Jesus, instead of baby Jesus. Now that’s grisly.

The Tap’s Run Dry

My mother keeps bugging me to write more in my blog. I must confess that I would like to as well, yet every time I sit down to do it I hit a block. A writer’s block. LJ thinks I’m just out of practice and maybe she’s right. She says that when I was writing every week I was brimming with creative juices. That from putting my brain in a regular creative flow kept the ideas poring from my fingers and onto the page.

I don’t really know what got me out of the routine. Maybe I got bored. Maybe my life got too hectic. Still, I can remember coming up with terrific ideas and actually being eager to sit down and type it up. I would be chilling with friends or riding in the car and I’d think, “Holy jeeze, that would make a great post.” Now though, I don’t even think about it. I might start a blog and then decide it’s not a very good subject or that I am not giving it justice on paper. So, hopefully this might start some new flow of creative inspiration.

There are just so many things going on right now. I am still saving for the gun I want. I did a civil war reenactment; as a private in the CSA. I quit my old job and went to work with my old employer and I’m getting all sorts of job offers from other archaeological firms. I started smoking again (hold your indignant harrumphing). I had TMJ and went to the hospital. And I got all my friends here into paintball. See? Lots of stuff going on.

Not to mention all the stuff going on in our country and the world. The candidates for president (pretty much all of whom I have contempt for). The housing market. Our sinking relations with the rest of the world. I mean there is some fantastic literary fodder to be talking about and still nothing.

Hell, even now as I sit here typing this up I can’t wait to be done with it. What the hell? Ya know, about once a year I sit down and flick through some of my old posts. Yeah, yeah I know; sounds a bit narcissistic doesn’t it? Honestly though, I do it to get inspiration or to see how I typed things up. It’s kinda like rereading an old diary. It gives you a feel for the time. Maybe I need to be less concerned with quality and just focus on getting a complete thought out. So, here is my promise to you, the eager reader. I will try and post something once a week until I get my mojo back. You’ll have to excuse any poor writing or not so clever posts as I’m sure it may take a while to get back into the swing, but I’ll try. So, next week…new post.

Oh, and if you guys got some good ideas on subjects then leave ‘em in a comment. I won’t promise to use them, but maybe it’ll help.

Freakin' Causes

I was listening to NPR recently when I heard a story that made me think about “causes”. It seems that Green Peace in their patchouli smelling and eco-addled brains decided to beat their heads against a wall by building a re-creation of Noah’s Ark on top of Mt. Ararat (the supposed landing zone of the “real” Noah’s Ark). Like, ya know, to like totally raise awareness of like global warming ‘n stuff…man. I just love it when groups decide they need to “raise awareness”. It’s like listening to someone telling you something everyone already knows while jerking their protester comrade off. “Hey man, did you know that like running your car burns gas. Hey, don’t get any in my dreads bro!” Nobody wants to hear it and really nobody wants to have to see it.

Kinda like how PETA has decided to spin its wheels by holding a public protest outside a fur farm in Texas. “Well, what’s so bad about that”, you might be asking; the simple fact that all of them will be naked and covered in red paint. “Again, what’s so bad about that?” Think about it. It’ll be a bunch of malnourished, aging, hairy (because as you know they are pro-fur not anti-fur), angry protesters. Probably with a good amount of dudes in there too, and no one needs to see that.

Remember “Hands Across America”? It was that nationwide stunt that sparked our country into dramatic and everlasting action to fight hunger and homelessness. Yeah, remember hunger and homelessness? Whew, sure glad that we stomped those two things out; now lets all go out for free ice cream. The whole event did about as much good as pissing into the wind.

I just feel that all these groups don’t get it. We all fucking know about “Global Warming”. You doing some stupid, ill-conceived stunt isn’t going to hammer it home anymore. We all know that you morons hate fur. But what you want is for people to join your bandwagon and not just decide that being naked and covered in paint is the surest way to have all your friends thinking you’re “special”. Finally, some notion that you are going to end something (hunger) that has been around since the earth started to spin, just by holding fucking hands is about as nuts as thinking you can slow down time by spinning. I tried that when I was like eight and let me tell you from experience, it will only work for couple of seconds at best.

Still, I felt like there was probably a buck to be made here. I mean how much do you think those Prius’s and Patagonia shirts cost? It’s expensive to be a sanctimonious hippy. So, I handed the job over to my Half-Assed Innovations crew, remember them, to see what they could come up with; and I have to admit they really surprised me.

Let me introduce “The Exercise in Futility: Exercycle”. For the angry protester who wants to fight the causes (to as much effect) from the comfort of their own home. The Futility-Exercycle comes complete with “wheels to spin” to no practical result. Other than maybe the repetitive and possibly brain damaging movement of the plate that will give you the very real sensation of repeatedly “beating your head against a wall”. And lastly, the pedal motion turns a tiny generator that will operate a small, but powerful, electric fan; so that one might bask in the spraying droplets of your very own urine whilst “pissing into the wind”! All components of the Futility-Exercylce are made from recycled nothing. That’s right none of it is recycled at all. The best part of all though is that all of the proceeds go to fighting need. My need! Of stuff like video games and guns and like sports cars.

Clint Eastwood, Eat Your Heart Out

I have been saving my pennies for a while now; ever since last year in fact. Right now I have around $600 at my disposal. That is enough to buy a Play Station 3 (the nice one) or maybe a good tattoo and even a spiffy new snowboard. However, I have fallen head over heals with the idea of getting a gun.

Not just any gun mind you. What I want is a Schofield, model 3, top-break, .45 colt pistol. This was one of the first guns to ever be manufactured to fire cartridges. Before that revolvers had to be arduously loaded one cylinder at a time with powder, wadding and shot. This gun (the model 3) was modified by General Schofield to break forward while simultaneously ejecting all spent shells to allow for a faster reload and greater access to all cylinders at the same time. Wild Bill Hickock had one; Jesse James carried two and it’s said the Wyatt Earp used one in the shootout at the O.K. Coral. Hell, my hero Indian Jones packed one in “The last Crusade”. It is an amazing gun. Enough of me blathering on though.

So, cognizant of the fact that I have never purchased a gun and that I had no ideas of what the laws were in regards to where I could carry and fire it, I decided to do a little research. Now, anyone reading this from the east coast or California needs to prepare for a shock. There are almost no laws in Nevada for guns in general. Not just hand guns, but any guns. You could buy a Tommy gun an M16 or an Uzi if you so desired. “Well maybe but you can’t carry those nasty guns anywhere” you might be thinking. Not so! I can buy the .45 caliber hand-cannon I was just talking about, load it, then strap it to my hip and go to the mall to get a smoothie! Let me tell you there is nothing as satisfying as sippin’ down a “Berry Blast with energy boost” and packing iron at the same time. Where can I fire it? Anywhere, as long as I’m a mile from any buildings and so forth.

The only stipulations on the laws that I could find was that you couldn’t carry your gun into any building that is governmental, has metal detectors, a school, or has a sign that says no guns allowed (of which I have seen none). That said; you can strap on your favorite piece, march right into Barnes and Nobel and head strait to the harlequin western novels. Oh, almost forgot. You don’t need to wait to buy a gun. If I’m out getting bed sheets at Target and decide “Shit, you know I think I should get a 50 caliber Desert Eagle at the corner gun store on the way back home”, I can. No waiting periods! God bless Nevada. I may have even enticed LJ into getting a gun for herself. She may want a colt pistol and a lever action rifle. I love that girl.

We went to In-N-Out to get a milk shake the other day and this kid sitting at the table next to us was talking to his brother. I wasn’t really paying attention until I heard him proclaim loudly “I’m the sheriff!” At this point LJ and I locked eyes for a moment. It was plain that we were both thinking the same thing so I vocalized it. I uttered softly “I’m the Sheriff.” Well maybe not yet but soon…soon.