Friday Willie & Beer Post

Whee. Two Red Stripes and a Corona later, and listening to "the Essential Willie Nelson" with my darling.

It doesn't get much better than this.

"We gonna sit around the kitchen
Fix us somethin' good to eat
And make ourselves a little high
And make the whole day complete
Cuz we gonna lay around the shanty, mama
And put a good buzz on"

"I'm drowning in a whiskey river,
Bathing my mem'ried mind in the wetness of its soul.
Feeling the amber current flowin' from my mind.
And warm an empty heart you left so cold."

Suitable for Framing Friday

"Welcome to the workin' week.
Oh I know it don't thrill you, I hope it don't kill you.
Welcome to the workin' week.
You gotta do it till you're through it so you better get to it"--DPAM Costello

Friday Friday Friday!

What a week.

Locked out Wednesday.
Car troubleThursday.
Headache Friday.

Friday makes it all seem bearable...at least until the drive home in Friday traffic.

It's 8:39 AM and I'm ready for bed.

Post-Modern Blog Entry, or "On Blogging"

There's no real or prevailing thought or theme on my mind this morning, but I feel like I need to post. That makes me analytical--the fact that I feel compelled to write here, even as I'm not particularly inspired, angry, sad, or anxious at the moment. Am I saying "hey! look at me! I'm blogging!" or am I enjoying the expressive outlet that this is? Personally, I think I'm trying to show off my ability to look at the act of blogging in a post-modern way--the blog that eats itself and then spits itself back out...whatever that means.

Why do people do this? It's an amazing thing, really. People bearing their souls, expressing themselves into an ether--do they hope someone will listen? Is it cathartic? More cathartic than conversation with a friend, or a good psychologist, or watching "Ordinary People" and wishing you had a good psychologist like that guy?

Bloggers put stuff out there, they tell their friends and family about it--sometimes, (hi Mom) even though it might embarass them a bit.

I think that people sometimes draw more from the hope that someone will read their thoughts-- moreover their feelings--and give a damn. Or at least empathize. Moreso than I think we the blogonomous, realize sometimes.

Personally, the realist in me doesn't care about that so much. I put it out there for me and whoever wants to read it, and I feel I hit a nerve with people occasionally--both friends and relatives and people at large.

I was amazed and quite giddy when I got several non-solicited comments on my "Driving Tips" entry. Here's another point for analysis. I claim not to care, but let me see a comment when I didn't point a person to that page or otherwise solicit the read/comment and I don't know this person that commented. Certainly, that's a source of a smile. I crossed lines and got a reaction. Who doesn't like attention?

I've made some political entries. I took issue with myself for doing that. This isn't a political blog, and though I do care, and I'm a regular voter, and I try to read and stay informed about the issues, there are people who do that a lot better than me.

The problem lately is I tend to do more to keep my fingers firmly pressed against the pulse of the enemy, and that winds up making me enraged from time to time. Those are personal thoughts and feelings though--anger about a particular political situation. I was going to whine more about gas prices, but...

Anyway, if you can get your fingers on Hannity's neck to take his pulse, at least you got near to his throat. Ronald Regan my ass. This is not a political blog, though we all have political thoughts and feelings or anger about a particular situation, no matter what our leanings are, and I think it is healthy to express them.

So this all floats in the ether. Sometimes it becomes news. Sometimes the ether melts around a person, usually a person who is troubled, and this whole practice gets them into trouble--MySpace, a forum in which I just refuse to participate, has had its share of deviant users. More analysis--good/bad? These people would have been deviant anyway, was it better that they were deviant in an easy, traceable, "public" place?

I'm just asking, I don't know.

That pretty much sums it up. I'm just asking. I don't know.

Tell me.

Props. Elvis and Pants.

An oversight. Two things folks should know about.

Echo and Sway. I've never really heard a lovelier combinaton of two words in song. I've gone without giving credit where credit is due for my blog's title to Elvis Costello, from his song "(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes."

It's a song about acceptance:

I was watching while you're dancing away.
Our love got fractured in the echo and sway.
How come everybody wants to be your friend?
You know that it still hurts me just to say it.

Later, our songwriter concludes:

Oh I used to be disgusted
and now I try to be amused.
But since their wings have got rusted,
you know, the angels wanna wear my red shoes.

I guess even though he can't get or get even with this gal, he's still got his red shoes; and at least aging angels, who like him, just aren't as spry as they used to be--are envious of his shoes.

That's what it means to me anyway.

Pants. Why am I rlpants? Well, during a really fun conversation one night, Dawn and I decided that you can tack pants on the end of any word, and that instantly makes it cuter.

So I hope that I'm cuter with pants on my end.

Thanks Declan, I appreciate the word loan.

Anxiety.

Anxiety.

It's horrible...what is it exactly? Is it an emotion? Certainly if anxiety is an emotion there's no other emotion that feels quite like it. Anxiety is a combination of what? Fear? Worry? Waiting? Need?

Does my brain create anxiety or is it floating in the air, and I catch it like a germ? I feel it's not like a bacterium or a virus floating in the air, but that it's more like one of those advanced chemical or biological agents--separate components that are innocuous alone, but when combined, they create a painful buzzing in my stomach, a sick feeling in my gut. It makes me tired and fills me with dread. Dread. Add that to the list of factors that combine to create this foul disease.

How does one overcome this most horrible of feelings? Drugs? Therapy? How does one overcome the catch 22 of anxiety--of feeling like you want to move or act or get around it, but for some reason, you just can't. You default into laziness or distraction, or you do something that's comfortable like cleaning or seeking solace in the deep dark damp of television.

Anyway. I'm going to stop being a big whiner now, and unlike so many other bloggers, I'm going to figure this out.

Stay tuned.

Sean Hannity is a reckless simpleton.

Sean Hannity is a reckless simpleton.




(Thanks, Karen S.!)

Update. Excitement.

So this has been my toughest, but most productive work week since I've moved to the big, scary city. Things are coming together well-- I'm feeling slightly more rested, I'm getting used to the commute--I've found a good shortcut that keeps me off the treacherous downtown connector--which was a big part of that relief--and I'm getting more and more comfortable with my SOLI-colleages.

I completed a series of "Dry Runs" for the class I'll most often be teaching--both the live face-to-face version and the online version. The online stuff was easier than I'd thought, though I still have to develop a teaching style to fit that better. I have a week to think, re-organize, and get ready before I go live on August 1. That's also the same day that I'll be seeing Tom Waits--my first Atlanta concert since the move.

During the dry run process, I found my colleagues here to be completely supportive and nurturing. Max, Marlee, Heather, and all my attendees were just wonderful to work with, and kind even in their constructive criticism.

We're moved in and pretty well settled into our space, a few nic nacs here and there not withstanding. We're finding things to keep us busy, to entertain us--from ducks, to a nice movie theater, to well... Driving to Six Flags or Atlanta for fun.

We've had guests over (my parents) and we now have a dining table.

We're getting a little exercise, walking, and I've found Hunter Park very conducive to the outdoor activities I enjoy--there's some nice tennis courts, a walking track, and I always seem to be able to find an empty baseball field to take some swings in, and work out my aggression. I look forward to getting on the bicycle sometime soon, but maybe we'll do more of that in the Fall, when we can drive down to the Silver Comet Trail and enjoy air that's a bit more brisk than the sultry, damp stuff we're seeing right now.

I'm extremely excited about life for the first time in awhile. Yay!

You are Outnumbered...

We elect our government officials and representatives to carry out the will of the people. President Bush is out of touch with the majority on this one, in favor of his base on the far religious right:

From Gallup:

Next, I'm going to read you a list of issues. Regardless of whether or not you think it should be legal, for each one, please tell me whether you personally believe that in general it is morally acceptable or morally wrong. How about -- [RANDOM ORDER]?

L. Medical research using stem cells obtained from human embryos

	Morally acceptable	Morally wrong	Depends on situation (vol.)	Not a moral issue (vol.)	No opinion
	%	%	%	%	%
2006 May 8-11	61	30	3	*	6

So, the next time, Bush, you decide to veto funding for research that can, in the long term, help millions of people--instead of dragging out some test tube babies--pretty, perfect, healthy, rich republican children (you don't seem to take issue with those who spend hundreds of thousands of dollars to create more embryos than they need in pursuit of a "natural born child" when our orphanages, and orphanages worldwide, are full) for your stump speech, why don't you surround yourself with children with diabetes...paraplegic children. Children from families struggling to get by, to pay the medical bills, to make their child feel happy and healthy and loved no matter what their disability? Why don't you take a minute and look into their eyes?

Why don't you take a few minutes to talk to Nancy ? To Ron, Jr.?

Tell them why you won't let the federal government work to help people with alzheimers.

Tell me why you won't help families who have to watch their parent's minds age away into a fog?

Your argument--"It crosses a moral boundary that our decent society needs to respect."

Cancer. Alzheimers. Parkinsons. Paralysis. They would fade away faster if you would just wise up.

Duck Redux

Dawn and I visited the ducks again last night.

It was a pleasant enough evening, given the heat of the day behind us, and we enjoyed a walk around the baseball and softball fields, and then around the pond.

There were no violations. At least none that we saw...

We did notice the big red-headed, gross looking male duck from before scuttling off down a hill all alone, far removed from the rest of his kind.

Jerk.

Driving Redux

A couple of items to list, based on daily Atlanta area traffic reports, my Dawnie's experience this morning, and personal experience--to the list of items to secure:

--A load of smallish boxes full of paper
--Feathers

Another pet peeve or two, too:

1. That space that I choose to leave between my car and the car in front of me IS NOT designed for you to slide into and slam on your brakes.

2. If you're stuck in a slow lane of traffic and see me gaining speed because I've, for once, picked the "good" lane:

1. Don't cut in front of me
2. If you can't resist that impulse, don't cut in front of me and slow me down.

Sean Hannity is a scared little boy.

Sean Hannity is a scared little boy.

Tom Waits

1 August 2006.

Atlanta, Georgia.

The Tabernacle.

I've Got tickets. Yay.





"I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy."

"The large print giveth, and the small print taketh away"

"Well I know karate, Voodoo too
I'm gonna make myself available to you
I don't need no make up
I got real scars
I got hair on my chest
I look good without a shirt on"

"I dont want my hair to fall out
I dont wanna be filled with doubt
I dont wanna be a good boy scout
I dont wanna have to learn to count
I dont wanna have the biggest amount
I dont wanna grow up"

Ten Traffic Tips

Here are just a few simple, ethical, and safe rules to help you with the morning commute in Atlanta. I personally have the I-20 east bound commute into the city. It's a hoot and a holler every morning, for sure.

and now, these simple tips...

1. Gawking. Our necks should be red, not rubber. Even if people in the 3,000 cars in front of you are gawking at the emergency vehicles and the blood stained and oil steaming hunks of metal left in the emergency lane, don't YOU look. Nope. Stop! Don't look. Don't you dare.

2. Ladders. Please, if you have to carry a ladder on your vehicle secure it. This also holds true for pets, copper tubing, rocks, meteorites, cardboard boxes, monkey wrenches, boards with nails in them, logs, lounge chairs, port-a-potties, chickens, lab rats, drill bits, bungee cords, toilets, hot water heaters, surfboards, bob seger records, diapers, and last, but not least, small children.

3. Speed. Do you really think weaving in and out of traffic at 110 miles an hour is going to consistently get you there faster? Do you REALLY want to get to work that badly?

4. Weaving. Do you really think that moving side to side quickly and dangerously as opposed to waiting patiently to go forward is going to get you there any faster?

5. Get OFF my ass. I'm not going to move until I'm damn good and ready...I will gladly move when I accomplish whatever driving goal I had in mind when I moved into a fast lane. Until then, back off. I'd love it if you bought me a new trunk, but that's gonna make us both late.


6. Ok...be nice on occasion. Let a guy over, especially if you don't really even have to break (brake?) driving stride to do it. DON'T however, be a sucker and let a whole lane of traffic over, grandpa.

If a lane is ending and there's been a sign for the past 20 miles to merge out of it, you've dutifully done so even though it means going slower-- don't be the sucker to let the jerk who's fast tracked it to the end of the lane--while you got over and waited patiently-- in.

7. If you drive in the emergency lane to get around traffic, I hope you get arrested. Don't let any jerk who jets around traffic in the emergency lane in, either. If you do, you should be arrested along with them.

8. Radio stations/Traffic reports--why, tell me WHY do you have to put the sounds of emergency vehicles, car crashes, or honking horns into your lead in music? Those sounds are indicative of danger and a signal for a driver to take action. Playing them on the radio can be dangerous.

9. If you're thinking of driving the 1986 Cutlass Supreme that's been wrecked twice, has a damaged, smoky muffler, bleeds fluids like the Russian royal family, has one working headlight, fewer working break lights, and gets 4 miles to the gallon--please, think again.

If after your deep think about this, you still decide to drive it, don't ever, ever, ever drive it in the fast lane.

10. Apply Make Up? Under the seat CD searching? ipod browsing? Reading up for the proposal you're making this morning and that you're already 10 minutes late and way under prepared for? The morning paper?...no.

Note: Blogger is not a traffic expert or driving instructor. This was written as a humorous(?) diversion. Do not try this in your own car. Mr. Pants is not responsible for damage, personal injury, or work time lost due to following these traffic tips. Tips may cause spleen damage. If you have a commute lasting more than four hours, this is a problem. Contact your boss immediately and quit. Actual results may vary.

Gas pt. II or, how to be a rich in America

Have a rich daddy.

Get elected using family fortune under questionable circumstances.

Create environment of fear after country' s luck finally runs out.

React irrationally to international incidents.

Start war with wrong country.

Rely on irrational media manipulation of your irrational response.

Ignore REALLY dangerous/crazy dictators until their best missle explodes shortly after launch.

Listen to Sean Hannity Regan ("Reagan Star Wars. Regan. Star Wars. Reagan. Star Wars. SDI, whee!)

React irrationally, etc. etc.

Oil price--same. Fuel price--raised based on...speculation?

Maintain diplomatic status quo.

Ignore congress.

Line pockets with "windfall profits."

Gas

It's time to vent about gasoline prices again. I'm sitting on pretty near empty right now, after our first trip to Macon since my departure for Consuela's birthday.

$2.94/Gallon.

Windfall profits.

Former oilmen in power. The Horrible Trouble with Hally-burton.

$2.94/Gallon.

North Korea. Instability. Any good excuse.

$2.94/Gallon.

Windfall profits.

Gouge the American consumer until they are complacent.

Sell the SUV.

Hybrid this.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Doin' it Ducky in Douglasville

Things are finally getting settled for Dawn and me in Douglasville. It really is a lovely town, despite a recent description in a new city guide (I heard about this on the radio) as a "haven for rednecks and hillbillies"..."Like Hee Haw." If that's truly the case, then I'm happy to be at home with rednecks and hillbillies.

There's lots to do in Douglasville--a great movie theater, any speciality store you can imagine (well, except nice organic/natural foods), nice parks and a good range of restaurants. It's not as uptown as Atlanta, but it's a nice suburb with a slow pace
Feeling settled, Dawn and I chose last night as the first time to go exploring in Hunter Park. It's right down the road from us, so we hopped in the car and were there in less than a minute.

There we found a nice pond with a walking track around it, open fields and spaces, baseball fields (I'm looking forward to getting in some Sunday morning swings soon!) and..well...Ducks.

A lot of ducks. One goose. White ducks. Big black and white ducks with red rooster heads. Brown ducks. Wood ducks. A Whitman's Sampler duck explosion.


We hit the trail in the wrong direction, observing the "wildlife" along the way. The pond is full of little bream and crappie, and a few people were dipping fishing lines in more as a means of relaxation than as seeking sustinance from the tiny fish. Ducks. Everywhere.

People on the track/trail were very focused on their exercise, whizzing around, swinging arms, perfect posture, speed walking. We walked on to the little off trail trail and discovered a some grass, trees, and a giant mound of bright red Georgia clay. Wow!

So back onto the track type trail and around for another lap. Midway through we stopped for a walk out onto one of several little fishing/observation piers around the pond. As we walked out, one of the big red ducks was harassing the little white ones.

To what end, we did not yet know. This was a complex game of cat and mouse, the bigger, red headed duck in hot pursuit of the prim little pristine white ducky, who was having none of it. She flew, swam, ducked, and dodged, and for awhile, avoided the red head's persistent attack.

Thing was, he wasn't attacking. He was flirting.

The red head finally made his most aggressive move and...well, mounted the little white duckie right there on the lake. Get a room, duckies!

"Now, why ain'nobody chasin' me like that?" we heard a nice lady exclaim from the pier.

"Hello duckie. I like your brown spots."