The Call Out

                I find watching any kind of surveillance video rather comical. Even though the content is accurate and, well, as it happened,  the TV and Movie industry have made it to seem unreal, for some reason. It is to laugh, as an old friend used to say.

          I was watching a local report from a news agency regarding a theft of items from an athletic facility, and they had video footage of the suspected perpetrator of the crime. Not actual footage of the crime itself, but of the people suspected or implicated somehow.

          There was a rather accurate description of the so called perpetrator of this crime on the news reel, as well as a great shot of them on the video as they exited the building. The description was rather accurate regarding the suspect, however, overly politically correct. I feel that this is an injustice. Bear with me here.

          The commentary was the same as always.

          “The perpetrator exited the building calmly as seen on the video. They are believed to be 5 foot 6, brown hair pulled in a ponytail, heavy framed, and wearing track pants.”

          Now, my take on this should be an honest one. Don’t be politically correct when it comes to criminals. These people are stealing form others and harming people. Call them out. Be honest. Screw political correctness.

          With the amount of soft shelled and spineless individuals becoming offended at stupid shit on a daily basis, and you know who you are, us normal folk need to take a stand.

          Call it like you see it, or like it is.

          The crime report should be broadcast as this:

“We are looking for anyone with information on the person in the video. This coward went into a locker room and stole items while people were competing for an athletic championship. What a complete scumbag. This shithead appears to be 5’2’’ (much shorter than they are), wearing rather soiled track pants, which proves that they don’t care what they look like. They’re heavy set, no, wait, they’re fat. That’s right bigger than average, which means they do not exercise and could not outrun a police officer even if they had to. This is a fat out of shape individual. The acne on their face seems to indicate a fast food diet. The overall unkempt appearance also indicates a complete lack of respect for oneself, and the overwhelming body odour should become an easy trail for local a law enforcement K9 unit to hone in on.”

          This way, the suck-holes in society, that become offended over stupid crap on a daily basis, should be pissed off enough so that the dumb ass criminals amongst them become so offended that they expose themselves. In effect, turn themselves in as they complain about being offended. 

“They called me fat”. 

Problem solved.

Motivation

Peculiar how time flies when you’re not paying attention. Or caring for that matter. That seems more to the point. Not caring. Truer to the point would be complete lack of motivation.

Those that are readers of my occasional drivel are not going to believe me if I tell you that I’ve been too busy. You already know that’s not the case. From previous posts, and, well, my life is not that full. Its lack of motivation is this case. Complete and utter.

Not that there has been a lack of subjects or topics to write about, on the contrary. I have noted a plethora of experiences in my notebook to opine about but, just have not felt the desire. Until lately.

Funny how a job can suck the life completely from you. I mean suck the life out of you to the point where you notice a change in yourself. Blame can be pointed at the company, at coworkers, at the job, at the weather, or at anything else you may dislike at any given moment. I had such a job, but no more. Thank God. Did I mention the part about being paroled? Oh wait, keep reading.

I do blame the job for one thing. That is sucking the life out of me. I blame myself even more for the fact that I allowed it to happen. Which means that I became complacent in an unhealthy situation, and it affected me to the point where I did not like the person I became.

That has been changed, and I feel as though I’ve been paroled. No shit. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about so hold off on your bullshit email comments on that fact.

Funny how something as insignificant as a job change can make one of the biggest differences in your life. Just the sheer lack of stress alone makes for a better sleep at night. Creative thoughts begin to flow again. I realize now that a pay cut in order to retain my sanity was the best thing that has happened to me in a long time. There is a hell of a lot more to life than money. Really.

All I can impart right now, is the fact that I am sleeping better, feeling better, doing better, and working better than I have in some time. A long time overdue.

I’m tired of working at a job just to survive, for a company that doesn’t deserve my efforts or loyalty. Too many times I’ve regretted having to go to work in the morning. I don’t anymore. And I encourage all those who dislike their careers to find something they enjoy, and pursue it wholeheartedly.  If it isn’t out there, create it. You will not regret your efforts. But efforts it will take.

The world is too full of sheep, content on punching a clock for the sake of a paycheck. You do have a choice. But it’s yours for the taking.

I’m not sorry for taking too long to post a new article. Actually, I’m disappointed with myself that it took so long. But I’m not sorry, lol.

Thanks for waiting.

Driving

Ah yes, the feel of the wind in your hair, if you have any. Summer weather is finally upon us and we now get to drive with the windows down, elbow stuck out of the door, shades on, music playing, and the beginnings of a quite impressive lopsided exposure to the brightness of the day. There are a few terms for it but it’s commonly referred to as a farmer’s, or trucker’s tan. Yes that inconspicuous darker tanned left arm. No, driving in reverse does not help one bit.

Feeling the sun on my face while driving with the windows wide open is rather freeing. Not quite as exhilarating as riding on the open road, but enjoyable all the same. The dog always sticks his head out of the passenger side window with ears-a-flapping in an effort to express his own pleasure with the whole thing as well. I would too but, alas, between the two of us, I’m the one that seems to end up stuck doing all of the driving. I may need to renegotiate this sometime soon.

I’m always rather surprised, that on a beautiful day like this, how many people would rather stay hermetically sealed inside a rolling hotbox with the windows fastened tight as if there were a storm approaching. The air conditioning on full blast no doubt. Sometimes I actually look to see if there is some form of condensation or frost forming in the corner of the windows. It’s there, but you need to look for it.

I mentioned earlier about the windows being down with the music playing. Many of us do this and I want to be the first to tell you that it’s alright if people see you jamming out and hear you singing aloud. Here’s a nickel’s worth of free advice on that. Look them square in the eye, keep on singing, or continue making your intense rocker face. You know the face. We all have one. It usually involves the biting of the lower lip while squinting and scrunching up your nose, all the while bobbing your head to the beat of the tune. Never break eye contact, never. Either way you will make their experience unforgettable. Being remembered as the comical rocker dude or the escaped mental patient makes no nevermind to me.

The one thing that I need to be clear about is the fact that the music that I play in my vehicle at an elevated volume, but not overbearing to my fellow motorists, is for my benefit only and nobody else’s. I have not installed a higher quality sound system just to inflict some form of unintelligible garbage, with so much bass that the trunk of the car vibrates, on the unsuspecting passers-by that I encounter on the street. There is always that one idiot, and a growing number of them. The only trend in this that I can see is, the louder the music, the worse the taste in the music. The louder, the shittier is what I mean to say.

When you encounter one of these creatures, and you will if you haven’t yet, here’s what I do. Let’s call it another little nugget of advice. This is where I direct you back to a previous paragraph regarding the singing and or rocker face. Remember? Now this is where you get to combine the two with a bonus move.

Sing louder while intensifying the face moves, and then hit them with your air guitar “A” game, all while starring right at them. They won’t know what just hit them. Having fun with it sure beats shaking your head in disgust like their parents probably do regularly.

Too Long

          I was told by a friend who reads my blog, that sometimes, they are a bit long. Also, this person, admittedly, doesn’t read so fast and it sometimes takes them longer to finish reading the entire entry. Such a dilemma. For that reason I’m going to do two things with this one just for them. The rest of you can follow along as usual.

          So here’s what I’ll do. I’m going to keep it short, and I’m going to write slower just because I know they can’t read fast. I want to make sure they keep up with the rest of the class. Cool? Now to the topic at hand.

          I was outside of an eatery that had designated handicapped parking spaces in unusual locations to say the least. They were, however, clearly marked and unmistakeable. One was near the roadside entrance to the parking lot and the other at the back/side of the building beside the delivery door. Clearly someone was not thinking when they were paid to design this convenience for our handicapped citizens.

          The people utilizing these clearly designated spaces all had the proper permits prominently displayed in the windshields of their vehicles. That’s not what I’m questioning here. I’m wondering how these permits are doled out. What is the criteria needed to obtain one of these windshield passes? They must hand them out like candy at Gramma’s house.

          I witnessed a number of vehicles park in these spots that all had permits clearly affixed in the windshield. But one struck me as odd and made me question the screening process of said permits.

          This was a contractor van that had its services of home renovations clearly emblazoned on the side. Now this seems like a pretty physical type of job. What is the handicap that allows you to have a parking permit and continue to do home renovations.

          So what is the handicap? Physical? No. They run their own contracting company. Mental? No. They run their own contracting company. I’m curious as to the criteria for these permits being issued. Am I Missing something here?

          Short and slow enough for you?

Time

          Looking back at how much time has passed since my last entry I feel I need to give you an explanation. Alright, maybe not a complete explanation because there really isn’t one. I could try to carry on about ooooh how busy I was, or how hectic things have been lately but, that would be a complete lie. I haven’t, and it hasn’t.

          The funny thing about the whole “I’ve been real busy lately” excuse is that nine times out of ten, whenever anyone, and I do mean anyone, gives you that line, they are totally bullshitting you. It is a complete and utter embellishment on a life that they want you to believe they actually have. The truth of the whole matter is that they let time get away from them and have not yet returned your call, or email, text, message (yes text and message are two different things), letter, note, posting, or suggestion. They forgot, I mean, I just plain forgot.

          I’ll speak only for myself here in this part, if only not to have to field the barrage of comments and emails with opinions to the contrary, even though you all have done this. Yes, all of you. We use the “I’ve been really busy excuse” way too often for fear that the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth will not go over well without further questioning that would surely reveal the extent of the lack of “busyness” occupying our spare time.

I have met very few people in my life that are truly and honestly busy all of the time. And even they will have a certain amount of spare time allotted just for themselves so they can take time away from things like, well…us.

I’m here to tell you that I am not too busy. I have not been too busy. Nor do I intend to be too busy any time soon. Time has just gotten away from me, and within that period of time, I seem to have neglected certain things and people that I shouldn’t have. Namely this, and you. Plus maybe a few other people.

Nope, still not sorry. And for that and only that, am I really sorry. You’d think I would have some sort of guilt cloud hanging over me by now, but, nope. I do however, realize that I am way overdue with this next posting but still…nope…nothing…sorry.

How time passes is a matter of perspective because when I was young, time seemed to always take forever. Like waiting for the end of the school year and summer vacation. It takes forever to get here. Or waiting for your approaching birthday. We all tend to count down the days right until it happens.

Compare that to growing older. The older I get the more I seem to be asking myself “where the fuck did the time go this time?”. Kinda like now. You know, the whole late with the next post thing.

Not just because I haven’t written anything in a while is not the complete reason for this reflection of time. I celebrated a birthday recently and was reflecting upon my previous birthday experiences. Through the joy, the sorrow, the excitement, the surprise, the love, the laughs, and the tears, one thing always stuck with me.

There is always that one fucking idiot who asks you the single most dumbass question on your birthday. “So…do you feel any older? Yuk yuk yuk”. And they’re always the only one laughing at it, unless you are eight years old and hearing it for the first time. I would almost always fake a sarcastic chuckle, then pretended to notice something happening…away from them. Until this year.

This year I took the time to consider this, no longer such a stupid question, because this year, for no particular reason whatsoever, it made me think. Holy crap yes I do feel older. A lot older. My God I ache in places I didn’t know I had. I groan when I sit down. Don’t get me started on the whole getting back up business. My eyesight has gotten a little worse. I’m not sleeping as well as I used to. I can crack certain joints at will. Some other joints do it on their own unexpectedly. My feet hurt. My neck and shoulders are stiff. But as I considered all of this and more, I can still smile.

Considering what has transpired in my life within the last two and a half years, you’re damn right I can smile. And for the first time I can honestly answer that silly question.

Feel older? Yes. Yes I do. Because I am able to be older, and enjoy feeling all of it.

Look Who’s Talking?

          Looking back from here it seems like a long time ago. In fact it’s only been a little over a year and a half. Not long at all, yet so far away. A lot has happened in that short period of time I must say, and never a bad moment. Well, that might be a little exaggeration from the truth but it has been a great ride as far as I can tell up to now anyway.

          I remember the day we met as if it were yesterday. To me it feels like it was, and still is, as if we had been friends all our lives. And if you believe that I have a bridge for sale that you might be interested in.

          The fact is, that we weren’t sure what to think of each other right from the initial meeting. I mean, we sized each other up at the beginning to get a feel for one other, but it was the confirmation of the final decision that made it all seem to be the right move at the time. Cliché’? Let me explain.

           I knew right from the get go that we didn’t quite see eye to eye. There was even a growl or two involved at the initial meeting which lingered to the trial walk on the leash. That did not go too well. A bit more growling and uncertainty which is to be expected with an unexpected situation looming overhead. It’s all very confusing with the whole not knowing “what’s next” kind of business.

          For lack of a better term, “the wife” was the deciding factor. For her it was something to behold. The exchange of seemingly understood facial expressions became almost indescribable if not unfathomable yet wonderful for a first encounter type of experience. It was uncanny to say the least. An instant connection if you believe in that sort of thing. I didn’t until I was in the thick of it, and was in awe. I just sat there looking with the wonder of what was next.

Remember all of that growling that was mentioned earlier during the initial meeting? Yeah, well, that was not a problem once we all got into the truck to go home. There was an elation, as a matter of fact. A realization really. This was the new direction, this was the new addition, and all of that other crap is going to be left behind. This is a good day, a happy day worthy of the excitement that was felt by all involved. 

At least all that were in the truck felt it anyway so stay tuned.

A Venting

I feel the need to vent on this particular topic so please bear with me. I don’t think that I have ever vented before so this may be a first. I’ve opined on many occasion, observed on more, yet participated on all, and been the recipient of many a situation, circumstance, happening, event, happenstance, over the course of this entertaining ride we’ve been on. But I digress.

When someone takes credit for things, like the work you did, the theories that you disproved, the options you made available, or even the ideas to solve the problems that the company asked you to solve. It kind of burns inside to the point that the diplomacy valve in my brain refuses to engage and function properly. This is not new to me yet seems to be a surprise to some of the people who claim to know me. Go figure.

The thing that was the cause of all of this was the fact that a co-worker not only took credit for my ideas, (a situation that was almost swallowable) until this chucklehead decided to gloat about it in front of me. Great big smile on his face. Are you kidding me? Not only does he stab me in the back, lie to the powers that be, claim my work and ideas, wander among us, and forget who he has either stolen from or screwed over and/or lied to. Oh my fucking God you complete sack of shit.

All I will divulge here in this entry is that in no uncertain terms and that any friendship that may have been pending (and there wasn’t because he is an opportunistic infantile egomaniac) is no longer an option. I can live with that.

I do need to let you know that we did have words. Some good ones. Choice words. And people were in earshot. I was commended in silent by fellow employees.

As it turns out, if you treat people the way that they treat you they seem to get offended. Go figure. My response is “suck it up Alice”. I’m of the opinion that if you truly do not want an honest answer to the query, then by all means, do not, for God’s sake, do not ask me the question.

The truth hurts most people regardless of what they tell you. Consider the source. Those three words are extremely good advice for the party asking or answering “any” query from anyone about anything. Consider the source.