Cold and Alone

I have a Couple Rhetorical Questions.

The first being, Is it wrong that I find women’s curling mildly erotic? Strange I know, maybe it’s just pornography escalation coming full circle back to the mundane.

This has by far been the worst month leading up to my birthday ever. It hasn’t been all bad I admit, but the highlights have just been muted, like my promotion. I’ve only had it dangled in front of me for like 6 months, so getting it wasn’t full of elation, it was just a well yeah, I’ve deserved that for way longer than this.

Just people dying, relationships fracturing, frustration escalating, and fear rising.

The only thing I can think of to make things better is to make detailed plans to make things better, which in some cases I have.

As a birthday/promotion/make me feel better present to myself I think I’m going to buy some new hockey pants, Warrior brand of course. With gift money from my parents, remaining fun tax money left over after buying my new shin guards, and money from selling my old shin guards, they’ll only cost $29 of real money. I think I deserve that. I’m such a whore for Warrior gear. I think that’s about all the Warrior stuff I could buy other than shoulder pads, but they would be so overkill for a no check league it would be ridiculous. (Some dudes don’t even wear them, and I cut off the hard plastic pads on mine anyway.)

Looks like I’m going to make it. One more post tomorrow on my birthday and I’ll have done it. It wasn’t as hard as I thought, maybe I’ll be able to keep it up, maybe not once a day, but I’ve been able to see the anecdotes in daily life now again.

Second question: Am I less of a man for really, really liking show tunes?



Substitute Peoria for skid-row and downtown, too many syllables I know.

The Dreams in Which I'm Dying are the Best I've Ever Had

I'm having a hard time keeping this up.

I finished my paper review so I can get my raise. I did it in 2 hours. Makes sense though, it takes most engineers weeks to do their reviews. Writing papers on time got me my raise. It's what I can hang my hat on.

I also get to have a one on one with my bosses boss on my birthday. Hopefully I get a big pat on the back since that's the last day I'll just be an Engineer, and I'll be reborn as a Senior Engineer.

I fell asleep putting the kids to bed tonight thinking about dying. It was kind of funny, it was kind of depressing, but no fear.

Everything will be Alright

I’ve tried to convince myself of that. When I was younger I had overwhelming optimism which made it easy to think that during difficult times.

I’m more realistic now. Your life is bound to have a bad ending, until then you just need to tread water so you don’t drown.

I hope I don’t pass that on to my children. I’d like to teach them not to fear life, not to die 1,000 deaths worrying about their own.

My Grandma had a picture or sewn thing in a room of her house that said Why worry when you can pray. Maybe that’s my problem. I can’t put my fate in the hands of an unseen benevolence, but in doing so I put all the pressure on myself.

It’s why I don’t like flying. I’m not in control, relying on someone else’s talent and wisdom to keep me safe.

I’ve got to hand to the management at work. I didn’t think forced morale was possible, but they are making our performance rating for this year count to our merit increases next year. Super smart and clever way to prevent people from slacking this year with no possibility of getting a raise this year. Whoever came up with that one should get a big fat raise… next year of course.

Waves of Emotion

So that tingling feeling of something going to happen, happened, as it were.

My boss instant messages me and tells me he set up a one on one with me the next day early in the morning and wants to make sure I can make it.

My brain immediately recoils in horror thinking that I’ve been caught using the interweb too much, or that fact that I’m at work for exactly 8 hours a day now, not a minute more.

I try to feel out the situation so I don’t spend the evening throwing up in anticipation.

I message back, sure no problem. Do I need to have some yearly goals put together to discuss or something like that?

He messages back, Well, I wanted to tell you in person… Oh shit … that your promotion went through.

Cooling calm and joy fill my heart. All my finishing reports on time has paid off. I tell him that’s awesome and thank him for working it on his end.

So I get 5%, and now I’m a Senior Gonzo Engineer. Maybe the Gonzo won’t be listed, but we all know the truth. I guess the grays in my beard are deserved now. It will look nice on a resume too, puts me in a different category and bargaining position.

This morning the kids don’t wake up at some point from 5-7. Seriously, the day I need to get in by 7:30 and they don’t make a sound. On top of that we find out my wife’s friend’s mom died this morning. I’m full of panic, self worth, and sadness. I need to get to this meeting so I get out the door buy 7:08. Luckily Peoria did a halfway decent job clearing the streets after 3 inches of snow.

I tear up a bit as I climb the hill to work. It’s a combination of relief of getting this promotion they’ve dangled in front of me for so long, and the loss my wife’s friend has to deal with. I remember her wedding and talking to her mom, this kind, lovely, gracious woman, nevermore. I try to pull my shit together and navigate the country road without killing myself.

I make it to work 5 minutes late, no big deal, everyone is 5 minutes late to every meeting they go to.

I sit down after the meeting, which is really nothing groundbreaking after finding out the high point the day before, and I am able to breath and let my head stop swimming.

On Death and Dying

I have a friend who's Mom is dying. Cancer. Not the funny kind, the kind that kills you.

It sucks. I'm so wrapped in my own mortality that when someone else is dealing with death I have a hard time pushing it out of my mind.

I've had these mini-rapid fire fear of death episodes in the past few weeks. Not the typical long philosophical wanders of my mind that eventually lead to me realizing I will die and then panicking for several minutes. More of all that compressed into like 10 seconds. It's nice in that it passes quickly, it sucks in that it's unexpected.

And then I read this story today about this woman who stabbed her two infant/toddler sons to death and it makes me doubt the existence of any higher power or thing after death.

There's still the possibility time is just a loop for us, but that still doesn't make me feel any better for those little boys, or my friends dying Mom.

There is no Why.

My homage to Nihilism tattoo sounds better and better to me. The concept is 9X4=38 in block lettering and then all my favorite quotes that tend to be dark and Nihilistic in the style of a schizophrenic's journal written inside the numbers. Kind of like Homer's writing of No TV and no beer make homer go crazy all over the walls in that Simpson's episode.

Hallelujah

Eli: I remember as a kid, I was ... I dunno, maybe seven or eight ... my grandfather died and my parents took me to the funeral. Watching his casket getting lowered into the ground, it ... it was the first time that I realized I was gonna die one day. I mean, I knew people died. I'm talking about the idea that my consciousness was gonna end. I wasn't gonna see what happened to the world. It was such an empty, dark feeling, like I was falling down a pitch-black hole. It was ... it scared the crap out of me.

Rush: I take it you don't believe in the afterlife.

Eli: That fear was almost too much to handle. I guess maybe I thought I'd just get used to it.
Rush: But you don't.

Eli: No. No. It scared me just as much every time.

Rush: Most people realize their own mortality at some stage of the game, Eli. It's not a particularly unique experience.

Eli: I know.

Rush: The question is, did it change you? Did it inspire you to make something of this short existence that we have?

Eli: Well, I'm here, aren't I?

When I was like seven I remember crossing the bridge over the Wisconsin River driving to or from church having the realization that I exist in this reality. That my consciousness was real, it felt almost out of body, like I was watching myself riding in the car. Then there was a moment like I fell back into my body, it was like a shock. A splash of cold water in the face almost. I had the same feeling when I walked into the room and seeing my grandma’s dead body in the casket. It was more of a hammer in the face and mind.

The panic and fear didn’t come till later. It ebbs and flows, and I’ve talked about it before. Why I can’t get used to it annoys me. Either there is nothing, and it won’t matter because I won’t be able to care, or I just keep living this life over and over, or I’m punished for eternity for not loving Jesus, or I get to go to happy land forever.

None of them sound great. Even eternal happiness seems strangely boring. The ups and downs of life make the ups that much better. If the coin always comes up heads what the fun in flipping it. Maybe the real end is better, not really… still terrifying and depressing, all those kids who die because of their horrible parents, all those people who suffer every day while I philosophize about life and get stomach aches from eating too much.





Some levity

Genetic Fear

I have an abnormal fear of death. Not really that I could die at any moment, just the simple fact that one day I will die. Maybe not right now, maybe not in 10 years, but some day it will happen. I will end.

I’ve tried to wrap my mind around the nothingness of that fact. Walmart has pretty much convinced me that nothing will happen to me after I die. It will be just like before I was born, nothing.

I’m comforted in some ways by having a more enlightened view of time, but I still panic at times. The pure adrenaline rush of the panic of wanting to flea, but there’s nowhere to go.

Turns out this fear is genetic. My mom feels the same way. She’s never conveyed it to me prior to a few months ago in any way. I would never have picked it up from her actions or conversations prior to the one where she told me about it.

Most of my tattoos in some way deal with death. My angel and phoenix, Act 5 scene 5, luck, the lament of Icarus, battle in the deep, and of course my chest. That was the lead in conversation of how I found out her fear.

I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised. We are all just the combined efforts of everyone we’ve ever know. The things you’re stuck with are from your parents though.

Losing All Hope is Freedom

I don’t know if my lack of posting has been a result of being busier than I normally am at work, or if my life has drifted into that gray area of nothing interesting or anecdotal happening to post about.

I’m not sure what goals I’m supposed to have in life right now. I have a job, am married, have a house, have kids, have a hobby/pastime. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to look for on the horizon. Retirement, not dying prematurely, I just don’t know. I’m starting to feel better about the amount of time I’m spending on things I enjoy and don’t really enjoy but are necessary.

I’ve panicked a couple times about dying recently. That had gone away, but now it’s back. I was watching the movie Dinosaurs with Carter, lying on the floor, and it just hit me like a bucket of cold water. Long term, broad spectrum topics like extinction, the breadth of the universe, and things like that have a habit of tripping the panic in my brain. It was full blown heart racing panic, the kind when you look the wrong way and start to cross the street and a car veers out of the way while you stand there with a stupid look on your face.

The two are related. The goals of being a better father, a better spouse, a better hockey player, a better employee, are all hard and have vague nuanced payoffs. It’s easy to achieve major life milestones, but to excel at them takes focused time and effort.

I answered my own question.

Starting at Left Defense, Lawryde

Yeah, I’m awesome. I’ve gone from a marginally talented C-league player to starting left defenseman for a 2-0 A/B-league team. OK, so maybe it’s just because no one else on the team wants to play defense and we were kind of short since it was a holiday weekend. The two sweetest words in the English language: De Fault.

Because, I’m awesome.

I am gaining some confidence, albeit misplaced and not always warranted. My game is improving. I think I was +2 or +3 for the game. We won 8-5. I really like my new stick and wood blade. It’s got some meat to it with the wood blade, but still has some nice whip with the composite shaft. I’ve got a nice long reach for the poke check.

We went to the Peoria fireworks on Friday. We’d never gone before since Carter was too little. We met some friends on the East Peoria side of the river. The display was pretty good. Carter liked it. I had some earplugs for him so the noise didn’t freak him out. He generally doesn’t like loud things. One of the plugs fell out during the grand finale and he started to cry. I got the plug back in quick and he instantly stopped. He was clapping and pointed throughout. Oz was not happy. He had been asleep for like an hour prior to them starting and then he cried for most of the rest. At the end one of our friends managed to loose one of their children in the crowd rushing out. Everyone kind of fanned out to look for the lost kid. Apparently someone found him and dropped him off at the lost children center. When the mother came back with the kid and the husband saw them and then hugged and he grabbed the kid’s head and kissed it, it was fucking poetic. I wish I had my camera ready. That was pure emotion and relief and love.

The Shear Intensity of the Thing Made Me Nervous

Summer hockey is finally going to start. I called today to find out my first game is this Sunday at 8:00. I made the decision to be nervous and uncomfortable and play in B-League. I can’t play with the hacks any more. I managed to get on the team of one of my tattooed buddies who skates out in C-League and plays goalie in B-League.

I’m pretty fucking nervous about playing. I’ve been sitting on my ass not doing anything for the past month while they’ve been doing this maintenance on the rink. I was going to try and do something to stay in shape, but I’m a lazy bastard and don’t like working out for no competitive reason. I’m hoping that all the other dudes who play haven’t really been doing anything either. I feel pretty strong, but I know my heart and lungs aren’t where they need to be. I’m a bit lighter than I was at the end of winter league (If that makes any sense, I was at about 177 at the end of winter league and now I’m right around 172) so I’ve got less weight to move around.

I just really need to skate like a motherfucker the first few games to get some respect from my teammates. If you’re shagging (how does MS word know that motherfucker is one word???) anyway, if you’re shagging ass around the ice like you’re out for an open skate dudes get pissed. I need to go out there and skate hard until my guts are burning. You’re always forgiven a few mistakes with the puck if you’re skating hard.

Rocking Out With Your Cock Out

I was just checking out some my favorite blogs, sitting with my wife and Oz, Carter was asleep upstairs. I was about to put together a post about Oz's birth when...

There was a crash of some sort in the back yard. My wife and I looked at each other. I thought she should know what it was. She didn't.

I went downstairs to see if anything had happened down there. Nothing.

Things didn't feel right though. I took a look out the front window and saw a cat skulking down the sidewalk pretty fast. I figured that the cat had been in my garbage cans. I flicked on the back porch light and walked out the door.

I had the screen door set open, and the birth pool was also on the porch drying.

Something caught my eye to the right. It was a large tuft of pubic hair, and some dudes cock. It took a moment to register that this was some unknown dude laying on my porch. I couldn't completely see him since he was kind of behind a bend in the porch. A penis crossing your path unexpectedly at 9:50 at night on a Saturday tends to freak you out. Especially if it isn't yours or one of your close friends or relatives.

I fall backwards into the house, slam the door and lock it, and tell my wife there's some dude on our porch. I grab her phone and dial 911. I don't know the cock's intentions, so I don't want to take any chances.

I get kind of an off connection, and the guy doesn't really even identify himself as 911. I blurt out some dude is passed out on my porch that I don't know and I want him off. I don't know his intentions. He tells me fire and ambulance will be on the way.

I don't own a gun, so I ran downstairs and grabbed my trusty Mission hockey stick and waited at the entrance to our kitchen. Dude would have to either hop the fence or hop over our recycling past the French doors to get out.

I'm not sure how much time passed, but it wasn't much. I heard and saw the fire truck come down our street. I went out the front door and flagged them down with my hockey stick in hand. I led them to the penis on my porch. A cop car also showed up.

I was still jacked up on adrenaline, but felt more confident with a group of firefighters (no, none that I play against in rec hockey) and EMT's. They tell the kid... it was some punk kid. Hot Topic shirt and wallet chain, finger rings and his pants down. They tell him to pull up his pants, ask him what he's doing.

He doesn't know where he is, or what he's doing. I figure he needed to take a leak on the way home and ended up passing out on my porch. He's 16. The cops take a look around, ask him a few questions, and they put him on a stretcher to take him to the hospital. I'm still all jacked up on adrenaline. The EMT's and firefighters give me and my hockey stick a nod and chuckle as they take the kid away.

"I would have chambered one if I would have found him on my porch," One of them says.

I tell them thanks. The cops have to find his mom now. I tell them thanks.

I'm still all jacked up on adrenaline. They hang out on our street doing whatever they do, as my wife and I cope with this violation of our home. I kind of jump around to get some of the energy out. We check all the doors, go see Carter.

It was just a drunk kid. Not a big deal, but still rattling with a 5 day old in the house.

Shouldn't be a big deal being up with little Oz's strange sleeping patterns tonight.


View from out of my front door while they treated the kid and filled out their paperwork.

And I don't think, you see the places inside me that I find you

Lawryde Ponders Causality, the meaning of Cheez-its, and why God is trying to kill him again.

As if God isn’t trying to kill us all at every given moment… but I digress.

My body is full of adrenaline right now, so we’ll start from the end and work back.

It snowed last night (less than a ¼ inch accumulation), and the sandbox at work is tucked away back in the country with only two country roads leading to it. I’ve lived in Illinois a touch too long apparently because every winter here I have an oh shit moment where I nearly get in an accident because I forget my Wisconsin winter driving skills. Luckily I have reflexes of a jungle cat (more on that later). The twisting winding road to work normally is really fun to drive at high speeds. So I’m kind of driving it the way I normally drive it. I come into a corner going way to fast and my ass end lets loose.

Oh shit moment begins.

I counter steer the skid, but my momentum keeps me going. The anti-locks are clicking and I’m counter steering the other way now. I’m facing the other direction and my car finally comes to rest about two feet from going into the ditch. The engine dies because I don’t push in the clutch in my moment of shit. I was lucky on two fronts. Number one I didn’t end up in the ditch because then I would have had to call a tow truck to get my ass out. I do think, however, that is covered in Hyundai’s roadside assistance program.

Where I am most lucky though is that a large semi carrying a piece of heavy equipment wasn’t coming the other way at that exact moment (a frequent occurrence on the road to the sandbox), or I would most likely be in the hospital right now or dead. Bottom line, I need to slow the fuck down and remember where I’m from.

Last night my wife and Carter and I went to see a specialist midwife. The only one within 60 miles is 60 miles away, so we took a ride through the Illinois countryside to see her after I got back from work. We stopped in Henry cause I had to pee. The boy had also run out of food and was hungry. I grabbed some Combos for myself and looked for something for him. I looked at the Cheez-its and had a Robert Frost moment of both Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening and The Road Not Taken. I paused a few moments and grabbed them.

We continued on in the dark. We were chatting, mostly Carter (he doesn’t stop) and I saw a deer in the right ditch. I slowed, but it was continuing to the right. My wife said something about how I was going to hit that deer. I didn’t see the second one that was coming from the left until the last second due to my concentration on the first who I thought was heading left. I mashed the brakes and I saw him stop and turn. We were going to hit him. There were no cars in the other lane so I swerved hard. The Elantra pranced to the side nicely. We barely missed him. My body filled with adrenaline much like it was a few minutes ago.

On the way home I began to think about my pause at the Cheez-its. If I hadn’t paused for them, would I have hit the first deer (unable to swerve or hit the second), or would I have been delayed a few seconds elsewhere and the same thing would have happened? I’ve talked before about how seemingly insignificant choices have massive impact on our lives. This was one of them.

Was it inevitable that I was going to miss those deer? Was I never going to get stuck in the ditch or hit by a semi coming the other way?

This is the center of my dilemma with life, death, God, and the nature of time.

Cue the music.

The Power of the Mind

You may recall that a while back my dad and I replaced all (most) of the old galvanized water pipes in my house with brand new PEX tubing. The PEX and all of it’s connection points have been rock solid.

The problem is that somewhere you still have to tie back in to the old work in the house. This can either be copper or more shitty old galvanized pipe. I have one hot and one cold water line that go up to my second floor. We decided not to run PEX up through the walls and just connect to the galvanized.

Yesterday the connection on the hot side started to leak between the galvanized pipe and the brass PEX fitting. I immediately started to get nervous. I hated the idea of having to break further into the galvanized and potential create more leaks or fuck something up in the walls higher up. I had no choice though. The one fantastic thing about PEX is that it has a manifold system rather than a branch and tee system like most copper installations. This means that you have single lines of PEX running from hot and cold manifolds that each have shutoff valves on them. So I just shut off this small branch and still had water to the rest of the house.

I ran to Lowes and grabbed a few supplies I thought I’d need. It was about 8:30pm.

My first plan was to take apart the union that was left and replace the old pipe nipple on the union with a new one. The whole assembly was up near the ceiling between to joists so it was a bitch to get wrenches on. I was able to get the union off and replaced the nipple and PEX fitting. I redid the PEX to the manifold and crimped and tightened everything. Moment of truth, turned on the water. Nothing leaked at first, but then the union started to drip as well as both of the pipe connections.

I started to get worried again. So much so that I started feeling nauseated. I didn’t want to have to call a plumber and pay big coin to fix something I should be able to. (I am my father’s son after all). My stomach started to burn. I turned off the branch and all of a sudden I heard a loud but muffled explosion. I yelled, “What the hell was that”. I thought a PEX pipe had burst somewhere. I didn’t hear water rushing anywhere.

My dumbass cats had knocked over a florescent bulb package that I had leaned against our fridge downstairs while I worked on the plumbing. I had enough at that point, there was glass all over the floor, my plumbing was fucked. I just needed to relax. My wife said she would clean up the glass

I went up stairs and dry heaved a few times and then managed to get a few teaspoons of nervous stomach acid out.

I left a message with my boss at 3:00 AM telling him I wouldn’t be in the next day. I was sick, I was throwing up, and my stomach was in turmoil. I was sick, although it was completely self-induced. No virus, no parasites, no bacteria.

I headed to Lowes the next day and scratched my head as to how to really fix this thing. The problem with pipe thread is that you need to get it really fucking tight. The threads are tapered like an Aztec pyramid, and as you tighten the joint it makes a seal along with the pipe dope you put in, but that’s mostly just to lubricate as you tighten. I couldn’t get the torque I need with the location of the joint. I needed to get more clever than the pipe.

I found a couple options. A swivel PEX fitting with a rubber seal, and your basic braided stainless hose, also with rubber seals. With a rubber seal you no longer rely on the pipe threads for the sealing, the rubber does the job.

First I had to take the union completely off. It wasn’t easy. While I was loosening it I called it a dirty whore and a bitch. You have to show plumbing joints who’s boss while you work on them. It finally let go. I got everything hooked up and opened the branch to main.

It seemed OK. I let it sit for a bit, and a tiny bit of water had formed around the connection. I went back throughout the day and it looked like about a drop every two hours was coming out of it. That should take care of itself with corrosion and sediment deposit. I’ll have to keep an eye on it.

My stomach feels better today.

None

I often think I’d be happier doing something that gave more daily gratification than what I do now.

Now, I design things that may or may not ever be made. I deal with corporate bureaucracy, and playing little corporate games to make people like me so they will give me more money.

In a way we’re all little corporate prostitutes, watching what we say and when we say it. Just like in Fight Club, no on is who they really are when they are working at their job in a large corporation. Everyone is afraid so everyone walks on eggshells because you know there are a few dicks out there that would nail you to the wall if they found out what you were really like.

I think I’d rather be, like a plumber or something. There would be the daily satisfaction of helping people fix their broken shower or toilet or whatever. Some may say it would be gross, but I’ve worked doing some way more disgusting things in my life so that wouldn’t bother me. I’d get to be my own boss, wear short sleeves, say “fuck you” when I wanted, etc., etc. Sure there would be BS to deal with, but I think it would be more tolerable than the bullshit I put up with now.

Now I have this over inflated salary, and all kinds of bills to pay. It would be nearly impossible to apprentice a trade and be able to support a family. Then I’d start out making way less than I do now.

I also find the forthrightness of the workingman refreshing. I always liked my shit jobs in high school and college because the crews I worked with were cool. Almost none of my friends are working professionals. They’re average guys with average jobs.

Just good people

I’ll take Potpourri Tuesday for $1000 Alex… wait… that doesn’t rhyme.

Don’t use your real name for shit online. It’s ok to use just your first name or whatever, but certainly don’t have your full name associated with whatever sick, twisted, bizarre employment debilitating shit that you’re into. That is why I go by Lawryde online. If potential employer X types A***** L***** into Google they come up with some dudes garden photography and plant portraits, not my heavily tattooed back and my ramblings on how much I hate working in the corporate world.

I’m obsessed with the Muse CD Absolution. It’s so good. I listen to it on the way to work, at work, and on the way home from work.

I’ve been in a really bad, depressed mood the past week or so. I think it’s because I delayed getting my tattoo until this Friday. My wife thinks that means I have an addictive personality. I really, really feel like I need to bleed. That’s not a sign of addiction… is it? Maybe that sounded worse than it actually is. I need to feel the sunburned feeling after getting tattooed and being washed over with endorphins.

In addition to feeling depressed, I feel very physically strong right now. In the past, High School and College, I couldn’t gain any muscle mass. Not that I really tried very hard. Playing video games doesn’t exactly build your pecks. Now that I’m playing hockey on a regular basis and doing push-ups and sit-ups, I’m actually gaining bulk in my arms and chest. This new found feeling of strength really makes me want to fist fight someone. On the top of my list of people I would like to fist fight are the paper-man(he’s not a boy) who delivers the shitty free local Peoria paper (God I hate that fucking paper), the douche bag who was in front of me on the interstate in the left lane chatting away on his cell phone this morning, and Sean Hannity. I should maintain this list and add to it so I don’t forget; much like the people I could be unfaithful to my wife with if I had the opportunity without repercussions. (She has a similar list).



The end is all I can see, and it scares the hell out of me.

That’s how I feel sometimes. Only able to see the end.

I’m going to rip my eyelid off…

If it doesn’t stop twitching!!! It’s just the slightest muscle spasm in my eyelid, but it’s annoying as hell. I looked around online and I guess it just starts to happen and then in a few days or a week it goes away.

My boy’s mind and physical abilities have exploded in the last week. He’s got this toy walker thing and he went from not really knowing how to use it to being able to walk around with it, change direction, and stand up using it as well. He’s also started saying “uh-oh”. He already had been saying “Ma-ma” and once in a while “Da-da”. “Uh-oh” is such a change syllable-wise from “ma-ma” and “da-da” it’s pretty neat. He’s so incredible. Each day, I can’t wait to see what he’ll do next.

My fear of dying has begun to creep back into my head. Any amateur physiologists want to explain to me why I always get panicked over it in the shower? Its rise also seems to coincide with my wife’s dissatisfaction with me. Either it’s triggered by it, or my attitude when it surfaces causes her dissatisfaction. I don’t know.

I know I’ve been a bit lax on posting lately. I’ll try to be better, but is seems like I’m always busy with some shit.

First you have to give up, first you have to *know*... not fear... *know*... that someday you're gonna die.

My monotonous life hasn’t really lead to any interesting posting opportunities as of late.

I get up, I shower, I get dressed, I make my lunch, I go to work, I mask my contempt and try to find meaning in my job, I come home, I put my son down for a nap, I make dinner, I watch TV, I put my son down for the evening, I watch TV, I go to sleep, I wake intermittently throughout the night when my son stirs and wants to eat. Rinse, Lather, Repeat.

The high points of my week are House on Tuesday, Project Runway on Wednesday, Playing Ice Hockey on Friday morning, Stargate SG-1 on Friday, and The Simpsons and Family Guy on Sunday.

I should find a second part time job. Looking back, I liked working multiple jobs (3 at one point) when I was in High School and College. When you don’t have time for anything you begin to appreciate little things more. You value any time you have with people you love, and love being able to do things you enjoy. Also, the $500-$700 more a month would destroy my debt within a year.

I don’t know. There’d be some amount of shame and embarrassment associated with changing oil on the side with a BS in Mechanical engineering. Some amount of degradation in telling my Opposite of Dog coworkers I can’t come over on the weekend because I have to go cut meat.

If you fucking assholes (and I mean that in a kind and gentle way) would just buy Instant Grocery List I wouldn’t have to.

Planes Crash… That’s what they do.

I flew ComAir a few weeks ago from Peoria to Atlanta, in a CRJ nonetheless. I’m always a little nervous when I fly, not nearly as bad as I used to be, but still a bit nervous. Like I’ve said before though, that nervousness is founded in the fact that we all think we’re special little snowflakes. Being in a plane crash is like winning the lottery, but you die. Out of the millions of people who flew since the last plane crash in the US (2001), only 49 have died. There have been more than 49 lottery winners since 2001.

It is kind of messed up those people had to die fiery deaths as a result of the dumb ass pilot picking the wrong runway. Wouldn’t you know from flying enough how much runway your plane needs to get airborne? It’s like parallel parking. I know how big a spot I need to make it work. Ah well.

I got a few more quotes for the termite problem I have. I found a reputable local company that’s going to charge me $650 for doing just the house, then $90 a year after to make sure the bastards are gone. It would be another $400 to do the garage, but this treatment should kill the colony, so I’m going to roll the dice and pay for the garage only if I have to. Also, the dude said that he though the house had already been treated way back in the day when they were using a chemical in the same class as DDT to treat for termites. He showed me a repeating pattern of drilled holes in the basement wood, which he thought indicated that. I was reading up on that old chemical, and they say it lasts almost forever, but I’m not going to risk it and just drop the 650.

I was highly disappointed in the season finally of Deadwood last night. Instead of going out in a cliffhanger or a bunch of action, it just kind of fizzled to an end. I did like Al’s line: “In the aftermath, play the lie as mine, knowin’ I speak of you in heaven.”

Buy Instant Grocery List, and I can stop putting these plugs at the end of every post!