I've Got Something To Say:

And that is I have nothing to say. One of those days where I know I have at least 10 topics I've wanted to talk about, but I can't seem to wrap my brain around them enough to formulate a post. But I also don't want to get back in a funk where I don't update because darnit, I'm pretty sure I lost a few readers the last time that happened.

Perhaps I'll go to an old stand by and do a Tales From the Past later on today, if I can't wrap the brain around anything else that's a bit more current. And if I do one of those, maybe I'll see if Katy still reads me.

So, for now, a shout out to my friend John and his wife down in Baton Rouge, who is apparently doing okay as of yesterday, and also a reminder that I wasn't in the least bit kidding about that donate button to the left there, underneath the countdown. I'm not freaking Rockerfeller, people, and this kid is gonna be disadvantaged enough being my kid. Help the poor girl out by helping her parents out.

Not Sure it's a Good Thing or a Bad Thing...

But I've never been asked to "guest blog."

Hrm.

This was a very Mega post.

Lawn Care

I don't get it.

I mean, I get it, I simply don't know what to do. Like, I mow my lawn...sometimes I trim. But my lawn looks baaaaad. And I wouldn't even know where to start? Reseed the grass? Maybe. But it seems like there's at least three kinds of grass in the lawn already. And I don't even know how to do that.

I should probably water part of my lawn because it's in the sun all day, that's the worst of it, looks like really dead zone. I don't seem to remember my dad doing that though, and it never got that bad...

Honestly, the only thing that looks good are the azalea bushes, and that's because those things take care of themselves.

Figured I'd share.

Photo Hunt: Wrinkled

Now, you might look at this photo, and think "wrinkled?" But look at Rasta Ralphie's face. And yes, I swear that's his name. For a guy of obvious age, he sure keeps good care of his body, eh?

Also, this picture was taken not long after this incident. And not by me, by Jessie, so credit goes to her. I was probably still contemplating death.

PhotoHunt

Surgery - Part Two

So um...I was misinformed.

This is MAJOR surgery my mother is having later today. I feel dumb in hindsight because I knew what they were going to be doing, and when you really think about it, it's not a hop, skip and a jump kinda thing. It's not really routine, plus, they're really gonna be doing some cutting...so...

Pray harder and send bigger good vibes.

At least my mom is in good spirits. Hell, she really wants this surgery, and I can't blame her, but yeah, it's definitely bigger of a deal than I thought.

I Fell Off The Wagon

We interrupt your regularly scheduled Saturday Photo Hunt with a confession post.

I'm effin' fat again. To say I fell off the wagon doesn't even quite do it justice. I fell off the wagon which was at the edge of a mountain, and I hit a lot of jutting branches and ledges on the way down.

Tuesday night I weighed myself at 221.

Two

Hundred

Twenty

One.

Let me put it bluntly...that's 6 pounds heavier than I was when I started dieting last year. I had gotten down to the 180 area. Maybe slightly lighter. And then blam...a year later and I'm 6 pounds heavier than when I freaking started. Just like me.

Well, I'm disgusted with myself. I look bad, I feel bad, time to remember that motivation and drop again. I've already gotten to about 217, but of course, that was probably the water weight. But even then, I'm only getting back to where I started a year and a half ago.

I'm shooting to get to the 200 mark, or maybe break it, by the time Erin is born, and hopefully back to the 180 point or so by the new year. Wish me luck, send me strength and motivational skills.

Vacation, all I ever wanted...?

As the title so wittingly points out, I'm on vacation. I'm not quite sure how I feel about it, though, to be honest. A large part of me is glad. By my own design I had been working more, something that hadn't gone unnoticed by my supervisors, but not for positive reasons. A break could very well do me good.

But at the same time, it's also giving me time to think about my job. What's been happening there, how things are playing out, etc. I'm not going to get in to specifics, because, quite frankly, I'm not a grade A idiot. I'm not anonymous here, though in hindsight, I wish I had have followed the mold of Dan Mega. But I'm not big in to the faceless anonymity that the internet provides, and I wanted to be able to say stuff and have people know that I said it. The unfortunate downside to that is that people know I said it. People have been fired for saying things in their blogs or other similar new media. I don't want that to be me, that's for damned sure.

But I will say that I view my job a lot differently today than I did yesterday. And yesterday I viewed my job a lot differently than I did 6 months ago. And 6 months ago I viewed my job differently than I did 2 years ago...and so forth. Such is life.

My problem stems is that I never changed. I've been operating in almost the same way I've operated since I started working this job.

Or have I? Lately I've been getting more and more negative feedback about a certain aspect of my job performance (which again, I'm not getting in to). I don't think I've changed there either, but being confronted about it has forced me to look at it objectively. And maybe I have. I mean, thinking it over, it seems like a perfect storm. Things started becoming an issue right around the time when I learned I was going to be a father.

I'm not sure what that means. I really don't. But I can't completely dismiss that as coincidental, even if it might be. Am I tensing up more because of an increased sense of responsibility in general? Could be.

I've said it before. I love what I do. I never would have expected to be in this field, but I love what I do. But maybe I care too much...and that's part of the problem. Maybe I should care about myself more, though in a lot of ways my caring about the job as a whole is a reflection of that. What I mean, though, is that I should stand back and be more objective rather than subjective. Accept the fact that I can't really change what goes on. Adapt. Roll with the punches instead of my natural personality instincts that make me want to stand toe to toe with adversity.

I have a long road in front of me. One full of eager anticipation and of apprehensive uncertainty.

But my vacation has helped put a few things in perspective. I am who I am. My job is what it is. The situations are what they are. There's middle ground in there. I simply must take the time to find it...and myself in the process.

As If You Needed More Proof...

...That I'm basically a man-child, an exchange from Jessie to me regarding her having to prompt me to do certain things:

"See, this is why I'm glad we're having a little girl. I already have a little boy."

I've Really Dropped the Ball

...writing wise.

I stopped writing again. Which doesn't really surprise me. I know me. I've only been able to produce consistently when I have a deadline. A deadline that isn't self enforced, one that has farther reaching consequences than "it's not done." Like, bad grades, or not getting paid. That sort of thing. I had about four chapters plus the prologue of The Reunion Tour when the subject matter stopped appealing to me. And I put it aside. Maybe to be revisited, maybe not.

I mention this today because I had a really great idea as I drifted to sleep last night...and damn it all to hell if I can remember it this morning. I spent most of my morning commute trying to piece it back together. I'm only around the edges of it and it's frustrating as hell. Especially since it's a mystery, or at the very least a thriller (the difference between them are pretty subtle yet pretty wide at the same time, don't you think? In most thrillers you know who did it...) and it's that damn "hook" I can't remember. The protagonist I have. In fact, I'm writing down a character outline/sheet so I can come back to him once I remember the hook, or if I come up with a new plot that fits.

Am I really a writer if I don't write? I'm not even talked about being published in any form, even self publishing. Or am I simply yet another idea man with a distinct motivational problem and a tendency towards procrastination and laziness.

If I get this idea back...I may try to do the "minimum word a day" deadline trick again. Maybe get The Queen to poke and prod me or something.

I'd love to have a work published. But I'd also be as pleased to complete a novel, even if it never sees mass printing. What's the saying? Everybody has one great novel in them? Something like that. I believe that.

Oh hey, good old mate David thinks my nostalgia fest about Kids Shows last Friday was deserving of mention in his Posts of the Day. So, I've got that.

The Quarter Life Crisis.

That would be the episode title if this story was an episode of How I Met Your Mother. Except they're in their mid to late 20s while I was 20...but I digress. Since I made the HIMYM reference I might as well frame this story as if it were an episode of said show.

Kids, have you ever wondered if people think to themselves, "how did I get to this place in life?" I'm sure a lot do, but I don't. I can trace my current life's direction, most especially my job, to the Quarter Life Crisis.

Some background is required. Fall of 97. I'm 19 soon to be 20. I've basically been named Assistant Manager of the retail store I was working for part time (it became official not long after). I stop going to college classes (though I obviously keep working on the shows at the theatre, because I've told quite a few stories about that particular show), but I make the mistake of not actually withdrawing from them. Cut to late winter/early spring 98. Said retail store fires me for really bogus reasons (that I heard were actually protested by a couple of store managers, which made me feel good, but let's look at this: I announced my intention to become a full manager and take over a vacant store after I basically ran the store I was an AM at until I inticed an old manager to come to it...and a week and half later, I'm being fired. Sheeeenanigans!! It's not the story, but let's just say that there was a new regional manager who had a vastly different agenda than the old, and was weeding out people she saw as being too latched in to the old...one of my old managers, right before the new RM drummed him out, tried to warn me, but I was 20 year old kid. Invincible. This was a very long parenthetical). Around the same time I receive the letter from the college, telling me that I've been academically dismissed, which is a nice way of saying "you flunked out, dumbass."

So, I learned a couple valuable lessons there...there's no such thing as job security, and if you stop going to classes, WITHDRAW FROM THEM.

Well, I guess I got used to working full time or something, because my first solution was to go to a temp agency. I started getting work almost immediately (being able to type really fast helps a lot in the temp world, no matter what gender you are, but believe it or not, I actually type faster now). Then, around late May, early June, I get an opportunity at a temp-to-hire position. Customer Service Call Center for the now defunct MCI Wireless. The first three weeks were in a isolated room being trained (though the last couple of days we started taking calls while being shadowed by an experienced employee, while being monitored by the rest of the class one by one...talk about pressure). I got in to that groove for about a month once the classes were over.

I was making decent money, but wow, not my kinda job. You were expected to always be on the phone and there were managers monitoring how long you kept your line off the queue list. But you also had to fill out a lot of paperwork depending on the nature of the call...so you'd have to learn to multi-task and do that paperwork while handling BS type calls, like angry guy doesn't like his bill, etc. That was easy, I'm not horrible at multi-tasking...but not in that enviornment. Too much stress. This was back in the days when cell phones didn't have the convenient packages with minutes per month/free nights and weekends and people used airtime WAY more so they were always pissed off at the size of their bills. And half the time I couldn't understand them because of various accents. Suffice to say, it started to take a toll on me. I really started living for lunch break and watching the clock a lot. Even though all the experienced people thought I was worth keeping, which they told me a lot. They had a lot of turnaround, after all, hence the temp-to-hire stuff.

Then, in August...The Quarter Life Crisis.

I woke up, and dragged my ass in to work. All the feelings that had been building about everything basically came to the surface at once after the first caller of the day. What am I doing? Why am I doing this? I can do better than this! Etc. I went out for a break (that was one cool thing that place had going for it...they recognized that it was unfair to let people have cigarette breaks but not give similar breaks for non-smokers), and walked around the building.

And in a way, the QLC (get it?) made me snap.

I walked back in, I grabbed the few personal effects I had at my cube, and I walked to the floor manager and said "sorry, I can't do this anymore, I'm out." And proceeded to leave while they were still spluttering.

I do kinda feel bad about just walking out, but that's why I refer to this as the QLC...I really had a form of a breakdown that day. And damn this story is long.

I didn't even drive home. A lot of the middle of that day is hazy. I remember talking to a lot of people about what happened, but the only person that I specifically remember talking to was, of all people, my then best friends then girlfriend. I think I picked her up and we went to the music store or something. Or maybe it was just on the phone...shit...like I said, really hazy. But somewhere in there, I realized I had to go back to school...that's what was really bugging me that whole time. And various people (including said ex of the ex-best friend) reinforced that. So, still under the influence of the QLC, I drive right up to the college. Wasn't that far, it was a JC after all. My first stop was the theatre...old habits die hard.

And we now get to the exact point where I can see where I am in life today from what happened 10 years ago.

I walk in to the theatre, and my friends John and Justin are there (I know I've talked about John before, he now teaches set design at LSU, not sure if I've mentioned Justin...I would live with both of these guys, and another guy, for awhile right after I got my bachelors in 03). They've worked there as house technicians for awhile, and they're doing summer work. Cleaning, maintenance, that sort of thing. But it's near the end of summer, and both of them are leaving for regular colleges in the fall. I tell them I'm finding out about getting back in to school, and they tell me that if I'm successful, to come back when I'm done. I'm like, okay. Figure they just want to talk more.

So I go to admissions or whatever they called it, and found out I could definitely come back, but I would have to write a petition letter, and once back I was on probation. First sememster back I could only take one class, and it had to be a class I failed. Next semester, assuming I passed that first class, I'd be restricted to under 12 credits for two semesters. Completing that, I'd be off probation. So, if anybody wanted to know why it took me 5 years to get my associates degree after graduating high school...that's a big part. Academic probation is a biznitch.

I head back to the theatre, and tell John and Justin the (relative) good news. They then tell me that if I needed a job, well...they were leaving and the theatre facility manager (a really good guy named Pete) was actually on his way over to check on something for them. I stuck around, and after saying hi (I knew him from the "old days" of course), John and Justin were like "hey, Bart's looking for a job, he's coming back to school." Pete practically hired me on the spot. In fact, I do believe I ended up working for him two days later in the sweltering heat, going through a big metal container (like the one in the picture) outside looking for old storage items to throw away...that was a fun day.

Anyway, that's how I first started getting paid for technicians work. And if I didn't have that under my belt, I wouldn't have gotten the student employee job when I went to my four year school, and then wouldn't have had the full time job basically handed to me once I graduated.

All thanks to that Quarter Life Crisis.

Or maybe I'm simply psychic and I knew MCI Wireless would tank...naw.

On Back Pain

So, those that check out the Twitter feed to the left (used to be right) might know that I've been having an issue with back pain when I wake up in the morning. I had a completely unrelated doctor's appointment this morning, and since it's been two months of this, I brought it up, mentioning that I hadn't mentioned it at our last meeting a month ago because I was trying different things to see if it wasn't something stupid I was doing.

Well, he gave me a once over and we went back to talking about the main reason why I was there. After a few minutes I inquired about my back, and what if anything, did he feel. I think I half insulted him when I threw out a "even though it's not your specialty" but that was kind of a hint to him that I thought maybe I should be referred to a chiro. He reminded me in his gentle way that he studied anatomy at one of the best medical schools in Italy, so I apologized for possibly insulting him. He dismissed it, basically saying I didn't insult him but rather that it would be fairly easy for him to determine if something was really amiss. He then told me that my problems were basically because "you're overweight, stressed out a lot, and don't know how to properly exercise."

Well, thanks Doc. Your mama dresses you funny.

I mean, I already knew I was overweight. I've been overweight in some capacity since I was 21. I had actually gotten my heaviest about 3 months ago...but I had actually lost almost 10 pounds when the pain started. And I've also been stressed out for most of my adult life...

So why the hell did my back decide two months ago that enough was enough and that I'd wake up every morning tight as hell and barely able to move?

So he put me on to trying out yoga. Which I'll do, to humor him, however, a part of me is annoyed that he made the call himself...I mean, if this really is a symptom of a larger problem, while the yoga won't hurt me (I could stand to get core strengthened anyway), it could be an unnecessary delay...kind of like when I went to get diagnosed with sleep apnea. He was almost too thorough, sending me through a rash of different tests before I was recommended for a sleep study. I'm kinda afraid it'll be the same thing all over again.

But who knows, maybe after a few yoga sessions and it'll go away. We'll see. It'd be a real shame to lose my faith in the one doctor I've found faith in since my pediatrician.

Yet Another Edition of "Things I Shouldn't Have Done At Work."

Warning...this post contains a couple pictures that aren't for the squemish. I'll leave them to the very end so you can avoid them if you must.

So, we were a tad understaffed when striking the arena on Friday night from our commencement set up, which put me in the always unenviable position of doing a job by myself that really should be done by two people.

I was up in our scissors lift, cutting down a run of power and audio cables following the ceiling support beams. Normally, another person would be behind me, coiling the cables in to the left so we can ultimately drop them behind the back truss/backdrop where the run ultimately terminates. This also takes the slack off the cable so it doesn't simply drop flat when the tie-line is cut.

But I didn't have that person.

To my credit, I got 3/4 of the way through before it bit me in the ass.

By it, I mean my knife.

By bit I mean cut.

By the ass I mean my thumb.

As I held the slack myself with my left hand, I went to cut the tie-line down. The lift swayed ever so slightly, and on instinct my left hand holding the cable moved with it...right under the path of the knife.

To my double credit, I dropped neither the cable nor did I drop the knife 60 feet to the deck. Not that there was anybody there, but there could have been. And as I had learned the hard way, my knife is plenty sharp. I proceeded to turn the lift in to a biohazard zone as I called down for someone to immediately run for the first aid kid. I looked frantically around the lift looking for the roll of paper towels that usually resides there. Of course, with my luck this night, it wasn't there. There was a towel of dubious origin, and in my "stop the flow quick" mentality, I grabbed it. Well, after about three seconds and the realization that the towel shouldn't be quite that stiff, I dropped it, and took off my shirt. Luckily, I had a t-shirt underneath, or this story would have taken a turn for the extreme worse.

After a few minutes, some painful rubs of an alcohol wipe, and a lot of gauze and tape, I was back in action. I did have to redress the wound, basically mummifying my thumb for the rest of the night, but ultimately got through it. Though Jessie thinks I may have needed stitches. I dunno, I didn't need stitches when I caught my thumb (same damn one, too) between a socket wrench and truss, and basically "popped it" open. I still have the nifty L shaped scar to prove it. And that bled as bad, or maybe even worse. I think it looks worse than it is. Now's the time for you to be the judge...another warning, here comes the pictures I warned you about:

Dan Erlewine is the Freakin MAN!

Dan Erlewine is a luthier. He built "Lucy" for Albert King. He also wrote the book on guitar repair. That's not hyperbole, he wrote the book. The Guitar Players Repair Guide, now in its 3rd edition. So, me emailing him about a problem was almost like, in comparable terms, a starting guitar player emailing Eric Clapton about how to play guitar.

So imagine my surprise when he emailed me back. Within about 45 minutes.

Anyway, I was having problems setting the intonation on this bands guitars. They play in what's called Drop D tuning, which is where you tune the lowest string, the E, to D. I could set the intonation correctly on all the other strings, but that one. And I couldn't figure out why. And that drove me nuts. I asked on a few guitarists forums, but nobody seemed to give me a straight answer (one jackass actually responded with "set the intonation." No kidding. I wonder if he even read what I was asking). So, finding that Mr. Erlewine's email was on his site...I said "screw it" and went straight to the top, as it were. I mean, what would it hurt? And like I said, about 45 minutes later, he responded.

I feel much better about it now. He was candid and helpful. He made me realize that at the time, there wasn't much I could have done, and that what could be done might very well be outside my scope of expertise, which is true. I felt so bad because I felt I had failed my friend that called in the favor, and the band he was working with. He assuaged that, and I'm still feeling confident I can be a competent guitar tech.

He's the man, and thank you once again, Mr. Erlewine for your help.

Update: We Still Have No *bleepin* Clue Where This Guy Is:

Sorry, I couldn't resist. That's one of my favorite parts from the movie Baseketball, when they have an "Unsolved Mysteries" about the main character disappearing. When he shows back up and wins the big game the interject with one of those Unsolved Mysteries Update things they used to do (I loved that show, even if the theme music creeped me out) to have Robert Stack deliver this awesome line. Gets me every time.

Anyway, once again, sorry for the lack of updates. I've been basically on a down cycle lately, and even when I was up, I couldn't figure out things to update about. Yeah, I suck. Go cry somewhere else about it.

Anyway, I'm playing music again. I'm really enjoying it so far, and I'm feeling it's giving me some rejuvenation. I was really feeling crappy the past couple of days, but after a practice last night (and the whole group wasn't even there at that) I felt much better. We don't have a name yet, but I like our sound. It's way different than anything I've really done in the past, and maybe that's why it invigorates me the way it does.

I've also taken the psuedo plunge and signed up for Twitter. See it over there on the right? Yeah, now I can give you semi regular updates on the mundane crap. But I also figure it might push me to do better posts here so people might actually check out the mundane Twitter crap. Well, it makes sense in my head anyway.

I'll also be posting again in a short while, on a very personal subject. So, I guess look forward to that.

Eep.

Sorry for the lack of updates, but I've really had nothing to say. Worthwhile anyway.

So far, so good on The Heir. Heard the heartbeat on Thursday.

Goodbye Spidey?

A while back, I talked about how I was a rock star, facetiously of course. I think I mentioned how my guitar was modified to look like Spider-Man's mask. Well, I think I also mentioned that I'd put a picture up some day. Well, now is a good time as any because I have decided to get a new pickguard. I kinda want to play a guitar that looks like an adult owns it. I still think it's cool, but you know. Have to get the pickguard custom made though, because the guitar is long since discontinued. Gonna go matte black, which I think will look nice with the the dark blue of the guitar. I saw the exact scheme on another guitar and liked it.

Well, anyway, here it is. Spidey, as he looks today.

Tales From The Past: We're Clean, Officer!

So, my friend Ben (that sorta rhymes...maybe I'll start calling him Bend simply so it does) posted about his trip to a WV club to do some comedy between sessions of a (from the description) a competition that was a mixture of karaoke and American Idol. On the way back, he got pulled over under slightly dubious circumstances, as he described it. It reminded me of a time I was pulled over about 10 years ago. Let me take you back then...

diddladiddladiddladiddladiddladiddla

diddladiddladiddladiddladiddladiddla

I was driving down a secondary road in my town. Coming from an acquaintances house, with this guy. He was decked out in similar clothing. He definitely had that large floppy hat on. See, Erik (that's what I call him because that's what his name is) is a blues guitarist, and is a very big fan of Stevie Ray Vaughn. So much that he liked to emulate him in more than only playing. No biggie. Well, I get pulled over. Also, no biggie. Officer comes up to the window, gets my info, tells me that I wasn't speeding that much, but they changed the limit and they're pulling people over to get people used to the new drop in posted speed. I'm like "cool, no prob, I'll look out for that in the future." He then tells me he's gonna run my info per standard procedure, but I'll only get a warning. Cool. He goes back to his squad car.

Five minutes later, he's still in his squad car.

Two minutes after that, another squad car pulls up. Erik and I start to get a bad, yet humorous, feeling.

Another minute later, another squad car. They're all congregating now, chatting and looking at me and Erik.

Another minute, and a freaking K-9 unit pulls up. Erik and I are practically in hysterics, though we're trying not to show it. For good reason: we know what's going on. We got profiled. Only one thing...they profiled us wrong.

They think we're dealers. I'm giving him a raft of shit about it being because he's decked out like a pimp. He's telling me it's because I look like I just emerged from a Walden sabbatical. But either which way, we aren't holding. I'm not gonna lie and say we were innocent guys or anything, but there was nothing on us, or in that car.

First officer comes back to the window, and we act "cool." He asks us that we've been randomly selected for a car search. I act like I didn't know that was coming, and that I believe him that it was "random." I know my rights, and I know I can deny them the request. But at this point I want them to learn a lesson, so I'm like, "sure thing Mr. Officer, sir." We exit the vehicle and go through the whole rigmarole. Popping the trunk. Getting patted down. Having our crotches sniffed by the dog.

Of course, they found nothing. Well, they found a knife, but the blade was short enough to be considered pocket, and while it looked like a switchblade, it was just a spring loaded flip, which is legal (yeah, I know that). Even still, since the car was registered to my dad, I feigned ignorance just to get a rise out of the cop. If he hadn't seemed so damn pleased about finding something, I probably wouldn't have and just pointed out it was legal. He gave me a bunch of crap about it, but in the second most telling part of the tale, put it back where he found it and continued to search.

The single most telling part of the tale? I never got that written warning. After ten minutes of searching my car up and down, they found nothing, like I knew they would. They then muttered half assed apologies and got the hell outta Dodge. And Erik and I proceed to tell all our friends about how Grizzly Adams and the Stevie Ray Pimp beat The Man.

...and I'm back.

At least, I hope.

I'm sure I have tons of stories floating around to get back on track, but there's a pressing one. Less than 12 hours old in fact.

At 7:10 am this morning I fell down some stairs.

As fits my existence, it wasn't even an awesome fall, with even an iota of grace. My feet came out from under me, thanks to about a millimeter of ice, and I went down on my ass. And then proceeded to go down that way for the duration of the stairs, about seven steps or so. I also managed to hurt my arm in the process, I think I must have gotten it caught under me as I went down or trying to stop the "slide" down or something.

What a way to start my day, huh? Couldn't even fall in a way that got me out of work, either. Though I did file a report just in case there was any lingering effects besides the big ass (no pun intended) bruise and a scraped up ego. Which there won't be.

My only saving grace is that nobody saw it happen. Of course, I'm now proceeding to ruin that by telling the effin' world all about it.

RIP Annie...

We Regret To Inform You...

I will not be doing Rhyme and Treason any more. I simply can't keep up enough of a regular posting schedule to make it truly fun right now. If anybody else wants to take it off my hands, logo included, feel free. Sorry, guys.