Jesus wept.
Nice guy that, haven't seen him in a few weeks. Hope he's okay.
But seriously though. I'm probably going to end up failing three of my damned classes.
Mostly because, well, I gave up.
I overestimated how much I was going to be able to pull together financially for this term and wasn't able to pay tuition out of pocket and keep up on rent and bills. So I chose to pay rent and bills in hopes of keeping my credit score from tanking. Having made that decision and not seeing financial aid coming through for this term I stopped studying for my classes.
I figured, "What's the point of running myself ragged and stressing when the grades will be null if the terms tuition hits collections?" So I just stopped. Stopped studying for anything that wasn't a "group" project and strait up stopped going to my Math Class.
Then, out of the blue, on finals week the financial aid comes through. Now I'm playing catch up, trying to get as much of the homework I put off done and hoping that at least some of it counts towards my grades.
I think my grades were well enough that I should be able to pass if I get my shit pulled together and do decently on my finals. But we'll see. I wasn't really paying attention to the grades this whole time. More worried about making sure that I was actually learning and understanding the information than how well I was graded for it. Taking more delight in getting things wrong and then understanding why they were wrong than getting them right.
So, after work tonight (and a couple of finals today) it's going through assignments and online course work that I can still submit and doing as much of it as I can before Sunday. Sleep can wait.
I've been running all term on a schedule that has kept me awake for two 40 hour stretches during the week between school and work, then studying all weekend after recouping.
What's a nice little 72 hour stretch with a few naps going to do?
Not completely sure at this age and running myself to the extent of my physical limits since August.
But I could do it as a teenager with little to no ill effects. And I have an extra day off this weekend to recoup and then a regular...ish schedule for winter break.
Alright, enough pontificating and psyching myself up. I have two weeks worth of homework to hammer out and almost a full chapter from the math book to teach myself before this final in...7 hours...with a final in between.
You got this kid.
Besides, this terms math is mostly a review to prep for the more difficult stuff later.
I learned this level math in middle school.
And refreshed it again about...10 years ago...jesus I'm getting old. Guess I shouldn't be calling myself kid anymore.
Fuck that; "No one works as hard as this kid."
Kid at heart at least.
If I fail a couple of classes it's not the end of the world, just a lesson about not giving up.
If I pass them all then I'm a goddamned lucky bastard.
If I pass them with goodish grades...I'm a goddamn super hero.
Let's shoot for Superhero.
Thursday, December 5, 2019
Thursday, November 28, 2019
Black Days
Happy Holiday.
Yay.
Truth be told the only thing that I really wanted to do today was to drink myself into a stuper and then pass out. But you know. Adulting and all of that.
So, instead it was some video games, a little bit of sleep and now back to work to clean up the mess of the day that others who spent the time with friends and family.
Only one week of class left and then the winter break.
Which is going to be a loooong break for me.
Financial aid never came through and being unable to consolidate the costs of summer means that I'm basically working to pay the interest on the summer expenses and rent. A nice meal from time to time and movies at the discount theater.
But hey, you do what you can.
But school, unfortuantly, will be on hold until I can pay the school for the current term.
Hopefully I can do that before the costs go to a collections agency.
Doubt it.
But with the previous term unpaid for I'll never get the grades for the classes I took anyways.
Yay.
Truth be told the only thing that I really wanted to do today was to drink myself into a stuper and then pass out. But you know. Adulting and all of that.
So, instead it was some video games, a little bit of sleep and now back to work to clean up the mess of the day that others who spent the time with friends and family.
Only one week of class left and then the winter break.
Which is going to be a loooong break for me.
Financial aid never came through and being unable to consolidate the costs of summer means that I'm basically working to pay the interest on the summer expenses and rent. A nice meal from time to time and movies at the discount theater.
But hey, you do what you can.
But school, unfortuantly, will be on hold until I can pay the school for the current term.
Hopefully I can do that before the costs go to a collections agency.
Doubt it.
But with the previous term unpaid for I'll never get the grades for the classes I took anyways.
Education : Pay to Win.
Tuesday, November 5, 2019
Breathing and Stretching
Trying to find focus in these crazy times.
Trying to keep my grades up and largely failing.
Trying to connect with other humans and largely failing.
Kids my own age...ha.
"So, how do you stay awake and largely focused on the tasks at hand?"
Stretching, regulating my heart rate, staying moving physically and mentally.
The only "drug" I'm using is caffeine. And that has to be carefully regulated to avoid caffeine crashes.
Stretching to wake up the body.
Trying not to get to warm or comfortable.
Trying not to let my self doubts weigh me down and hold me back.
Recognizing when the nods are happening and letting the fifteen or so minutes take over to freshen the focus.
Finding litmus tests for myself to catch myself slipping and pull it back together.
"So spoiled."
"Shut your mouth"
"You don't understand."
Oh no, I get it.
I get it much more than people think.
That's...mostly the problem.
I open my mouth and speak truth and it's always going to piss someone off.
So, I'll just let it run, and if I step on toes I step on toes.
You say "watch this" and the pieces move around the board and end up in nearly the exact position you said they would.
And that scares people.
One day I will learn to trust my instincts the first time rather than making myself run in circles chasing the same leads and having the same conversations over and over again.
But until that happens.
Until I learn to trust myself I'll be checking and double checking my work.
Verifying facts as I can.
Looking to more experienced individuals to provide honest and accurate information.
But I'm rambling. Trying to avoid sleeping to see how much worse it is for the brain space and getting facts in order than it is to catch the naps here and there.
Kind of damned if I do, damned if I don't.
Catch a nap and people think I'm taking advantage of...whatever.
Self care and they think I'm being uppity.
Utilize resources and they think I'm looking for a handout.
Either the folks that mean me harm will find me and do me harm.
Or I'll succeed and end up pulling off the craziest hat trick in history.
We'll see though.
I think I did okay on my Spanish test, but we'll see.
I forgot a few words.
Math is next, test wise.
We'll see if the number crunching comes as easily as it did a couple of nights ago.
Still need to see a play to "inspire me" for my acting class.
Yay.
It's not so much the money that's keeping me from doing it.
It's the time.
Trying to pull my belongings together, my life, take care of my body through this crazy experiment, and scrape together the money to pay bills and tuition has eaten up most of my time. Then there's the shows available. Good lord, I know people at almost every theater in the valley and not many of them like me all that well.
But what else is new.
I'll have to get over it and go see a show eventually.
"But you're eating out all of the time."
Fuck off.
I've gone to bed hungry too many damn times to skimp on feeding the machine.
"I've never gone anywhere."
"I've never traveled."
Do it man.
Go, see, do.
If you want to you will.
You have to be your own damned wizard.
And if no one wants to go with you, go by yourself.
There ain't no one out there that's going to come and do it for you.
That's the fairy tale.
And if you "can't afford it" find a way.
You can always find a way to work for it, trade for it, or make things stretch if it really means a lot to you.
Okay...fragmented writing.
Jumping from topic to topic.
Fifteen minutes, a dose of caffeine, class, then fifteen more minutes and hopefully work keeps me busy enough to keep my brain active. Then to bed as quick as I can get to it to recoup and do it all over again.
I will survive this term.
I will pass my classes.
I will pay for all of it.
Late maybe, but it will be paid for.
And I will run this stupid ass presidential campaign.
And if I get elected I'll do the damned job.
2020 is going to be a wacky ass year, that's for sure.
Even more wacky than my sleepless brain is writing out the gobeldygook.
Even more wacky than this last year and most of the rest of my life.
Because in 2020 the kid that first saw a president and started setting up the chess board will be old enough to play the game at the big table.
The question is, did the opening gambit succeed?
Or am I just loosing my damned mind?
More than likely a little of both.
Ah well, it's a hell of a ride.
Trying to keep my grades up and largely failing.
Trying to connect with other humans and largely failing.
Kids my own age...ha.
"So, how do you stay awake and largely focused on the tasks at hand?"
Stretching, regulating my heart rate, staying moving physically and mentally.
The only "drug" I'm using is caffeine. And that has to be carefully regulated to avoid caffeine crashes.
Stretching to wake up the body.
Trying not to get to warm or comfortable.
Trying not to let my self doubts weigh me down and hold me back.
Recognizing when the nods are happening and letting the fifteen or so minutes take over to freshen the focus.
Finding litmus tests for myself to catch myself slipping and pull it back together.
"So spoiled."
"Shut your mouth"
"You don't understand."
Oh no, I get it.
I get it much more than people think.
That's...mostly the problem.
I open my mouth and speak truth and it's always going to piss someone off.
So, I'll just let it run, and if I step on toes I step on toes.
You say "watch this" and the pieces move around the board and end up in nearly the exact position you said they would.
And that scares people.
One day I will learn to trust my instincts the first time rather than making myself run in circles chasing the same leads and having the same conversations over and over again.
But until that happens.
Until I learn to trust myself I'll be checking and double checking my work.
Verifying facts as I can.
Looking to more experienced individuals to provide honest and accurate information.
But I'm rambling. Trying to avoid sleeping to see how much worse it is for the brain space and getting facts in order than it is to catch the naps here and there.
Kind of damned if I do, damned if I don't.
Catch a nap and people think I'm taking advantage of...whatever.
Self care and they think I'm being uppity.
Utilize resources and they think I'm looking for a handout.
Either the folks that mean me harm will find me and do me harm.
Or I'll succeed and end up pulling off the craziest hat trick in history.
We'll see though.
I think I did okay on my Spanish test, but we'll see.
I forgot a few words.
Math is next, test wise.
We'll see if the number crunching comes as easily as it did a couple of nights ago.
Still need to see a play to "inspire me" for my acting class.
Yay.
It's not so much the money that's keeping me from doing it.
It's the time.
Trying to pull my belongings together, my life, take care of my body through this crazy experiment, and scrape together the money to pay bills and tuition has eaten up most of my time. Then there's the shows available. Good lord, I know people at almost every theater in the valley and not many of them like me all that well.
But what else is new.
I'll have to get over it and go see a show eventually.
"But you're eating out all of the time."
Fuck off.
I've gone to bed hungry too many damn times to skimp on feeding the machine.
"I've never gone anywhere."
"I've never traveled."
Do it man.
Go, see, do.
If you want to you will.
You have to be your own damned wizard.
And if no one wants to go with you, go by yourself.
There ain't no one out there that's going to come and do it for you.
That's the fairy tale.
And if you "can't afford it" find a way.
You can always find a way to work for it, trade for it, or make things stretch if it really means a lot to you.
Okay...fragmented writing.
Jumping from topic to topic.
Fifteen minutes, a dose of caffeine, class, then fifteen more minutes and hopefully work keeps me busy enough to keep my brain active. Then to bed as quick as I can get to it to recoup and do it all over again.
I will survive this term.
I will pass my classes.
I will pay for all of it.
Late maybe, but it will be paid for.
And I will run this stupid ass presidential campaign.
And if I get elected I'll do the damned job.
2020 is going to be a wacky ass year, that's for sure.
Even more wacky than my sleepless brain is writing out the gobeldygook.
Even more wacky than this last year and most of the rest of my life.
Because in 2020 the kid that first saw a president and started setting up the chess board will be old enough to play the game at the big table.
The question is, did the opening gambit succeed?
Or am I just loosing my damned mind?
More than likely a little of both.
Ah well, it's a hell of a ride.
Saturday, November 2, 2019
Spanishing
Man,
My struggle with the college level studying isn't so much going over the information and trying to learn the information. It's figuring out what information to focus on and study that.
I keep finding all of these side resources and things to help with work on Spanish.
In Spanish, the class, we're learning muy gramatica. But, I'm wanting to be able to hablas.
So I'm finding things that teach me hablas over gramatica, but the focus of the class es gramatica at the moment.
The other issue is that much of the vocabulary that I've picked up in my extracurricular studies is just now being gotten to in the class work and the vocabulary from class is just now being covered in my extracurricular.
Gah!!
So. Yeah, I'm struggling. Also, with this last section I haven't had as much time to sit and study as I would like. What I need is a study partner with a similar schedule to my own. But working nights, doing myself no favors in making friends at work, and being as socially awkward as I am I just randomly spout contextually appropriate phrases around people that seem like they know Spanish and see if they respond with the appropriate answer.
It's worked a little, and those that actually know Spanish that I've been saying "Buenos Dias" or "Como estas" too have been polite about suffering the bad accent and responding in kind.
But, the extracarriculars and class work are starting to overlap, so if I keep on keeping on hopefully it all start to mesh and I'll be able to hold at least a kindergarten level conversation in the near future.
Also, I'll be needing to study spelling more. The online part of the class I'm taking is brutal when it comes to that and I'm constantly mucking up when to use accent letters and spellings based on the pronunciation of my weird accent that blends together spanglish, texmex, mexican, itallian, and latin pronunciations. It sounds pretty, kinda, but it does not help with sounding out words for spelling.
Other than that, classes are going decently. I still haven't learned to slow down when it comes to doing the simple arithmetic in my math class. Trying to blast through the "show your" work portions of the assignments and writing out equations about as fast as I read them. Then transposing a number here, or forgetting to factor a coefficient there, or forgetting to flip the negative to a positive when finding GCF's etc.
So, yeah, I'm picking up the way to show the work and not just jump to the answer, but my brain being so impatient to get to the answer keeps making simple transcription errors that flub up the whole damned equation.
Ah well, I'll get it all together and hopefully have a good GPA at the end of the term.
Then there's acting class.
Which as I'm slowly getting rid of the jitters of being in front of my class mates now have to meet up with another individual to practice a scene with. Which, in this last week the one bit of rehearsal time I had they forgot about so...we ended up going into class at what felt like a cold read. But hey, group projects, Am I right?
Not to mention my social awkwardness and being unable to ask simple questions of like "when are you available" and then bulling ahead with how I see the way the script should be performed.
To many years as a DM coaching players through character motivations and awarding/penalizing them for going with or against the character choices they made at creation and their overall goals for that characters career/character arc. Which, again, is why I'm taking acting classes. Both to learn how to work better with other people and how to let go of the reigns and let someone else be the director of the action.
As well as learn to, well, act better.
Outside of that the research class I'm in is interesting and I'll be needing to sit down and actually work on the paper that will be my final before long. The hard part won't writing the paper as it will whittling out the personal exposition and focusing on the actual academic professionals of the subjects on the findings. Well, that, and remembering to appropriately site sources.
The digging for info and putting things together part... Well that's my jam, jelly, and peanut butter all slathered over a tall stack of fluffy pancakes. I'll just have to remember not to spend too much time on that and remember to focus on the actual course work.
Anywho, back to homework, studying my vocab and verbs, pecking away at my math problems and remembering to CHECK MY DAG NABBED WORK and not to rush through the simple arrhythmic to show how fast I can run an equation. When there's no one watching me do the work, just checking the papers at the end.
That and giving myself the mental down time to run around in Destiny and dig into the lore....oh yeah and wreck some fools in the crucible.
"Haha Guardian! More effort like that and we just might win this!"
My struggle with the college level studying isn't so much going over the information and trying to learn the information. It's figuring out what information to focus on and study that.
I keep finding all of these side resources and things to help with work on Spanish.
In Spanish, the class, we're learning muy gramatica. But, I'm wanting to be able to hablas.
So I'm finding things that teach me hablas over gramatica, but the focus of the class es gramatica at the moment.
The other issue is that much of the vocabulary that I've picked up in my extracurricular studies is just now being gotten to in the class work and the vocabulary from class is just now being covered in my extracurricular.
Gah!!
So. Yeah, I'm struggling. Also, with this last section I haven't had as much time to sit and study as I would like. What I need is a study partner with a similar schedule to my own. But working nights, doing myself no favors in making friends at work, and being as socially awkward as I am I just randomly spout contextually appropriate phrases around people that seem like they know Spanish and see if they respond with the appropriate answer.
It's worked a little, and those that actually know Spanish that I've been saying "Buenos Dias" or "Como estas" too have been polite about suffering the bad accent and responding in kind.
But, the extracarriculars and class work are starting to overlap, so if I keep on keeping on hopefully it all start to mesh and I'll be able to hold at least a kindergarten level conversation in the near future.
Also, I'll be needing to study spelling more. The online part of the class I'm taking is brutal when it comes to that and I'm constantly mucking up when to use accent letters and spellings based on the pronunciation of my weird accent that blends together spanglish, texmex, mexican, itallian, and latin pronunciations. It sounds pretty, kinda, but it does not help with sounding out words for spelling.
Other than that, classes are going decently. I still haven't learned to slow down when it comes to doing the simple arithmetic in my math class. Trying to blast through the "show your" work portions of the assignments and writing out equations about as fast as I read them. Then transposing a number here, or forgetting to factor a coefficient there, or forgetting to flip the negative to a positive when finding GCF's etc.
So, yeah, I'm picking up the way to show the work and not just jump to the answer, but my brain being so impatient to get to the answer keeps making simple transcription errors that flub up the whole damned equation.
Ah well, I'll get it all together and hopefully have a good GPA at the end of the term.
Then there's acting class.
Which as I'm slowly getting rid of the jitters of being in front of my class mates now have to meet up with another individual to practice a scene with. Which, in this last week the one bit of rehearsal time I had they forgot about so...we ended up going into class at what felt like a cold read. But hey, group projects, Am I right?
Not to mention my social awkwardness and being unable to ask simple questions of like "when are you available" and then bulling ahead with how I see the way the script should be performed.
To many years as a DM coaching players through character motivations and awarding/penalizing them for going with or against the character choices they made at creation and their overall goals for that characters career/character arc. Which, again, is why I'm taking acting classes. Both to learn how to work better with other people and how to let go of the reigns and let someone else be the director of the action.
As well as learn to, well, act better.
Outside of that the research class I'm in is interesting and I'll be needing to sit down and actually work on the paper that will be my final before long. The hard part won't writing the paper as it will whittling out the personal exposition and focusing on the actual academic professionals of the subjects on the findings. Well, that, and remembering to appropriately site sources.
The digging for info and putting things together part... Well that's my jam, jelly, and peanut butter all slathered over a tall stack of fluffy pancakes. I'll just have to remember not to spend too much time on that and remember to focus on the actual course work.
Anywho, back to homework, studying my vocab and verbs, pecking away at my math problems and remembering to CHECK MY DAG NABBED WORK and not to rush through the simple arrhythmic to show how fast I can run an equation. When there's no one watching me do the work, just checking the papers at the end.
That and giving myself the mental down time to run around in Destiny and dig into the lore....oh yeah and wreck some fools in the crucible.
"Haha Guardian! More effort like that and we just might win this!"
Sunday, October 27, 2019
Destined to Fail Math
I frigging hate doing math homework.
But I love doing math.
How stupid is that?
In high school I was kicked out of my math class because every time I was told to "show my work" I refused.
At first the teacher thought I was cheating.
Then, when I walked her through my method in the sections we were working on she told me "That's not the part of the book we're learning."
"Well I haven't read that part of the book, that's just how the numbers work out."
"Do it the way I'm teaching the class."
"No. It's slow, it's stupid, and it's a waste of time."
"Get out of my class."
"Fine."
Next week.
"Hey, you need to take that pentagram off and turn your pagan shirt inside out. It's offensive."
"No he doesn't. If you're going to use that logic then you need to have her take her crucifix off and turn that Jesus shirt inside out."
"It's not the same thing."
"It kind of is."
"How does this even effect you."
"Because we live in america and we have freedom of religion. So either they both do or neither of them do."
"Get out of my class."
"Fine."
"Don't come back."
"It's a waste of time anyway."
So now, as an adult I'm trying to "relearn" the math I was kicked out of.
Truth is, I knew it, forgot it because I wasn't using it, and am having a hard time reconciling the short hand that the teacher throws at us during class and then having to reteach myself with the book after class because the short hand doesn't stick.
Friggin broke down into tears working on this factoring nonsense because when I went to do it I just started writing down answers and was skipping the work part, then had to erase it all and start over. Then couldn't remember which version of the factoring I was supposed to be doing for that section of the homework and it's all so damned stupid.
I can't help it.
I look at numbers, they go into my head like a blender and then the blender spits out a damned answer. Sometimes in the numbers come out in the wrong order, more now than they used to because life happened. But then I look at the numbers my brain spit out on paper and they go through the blender again.
Then my brain goes "nope." or "yep" And I keep working and reworking them until the blender says "yep" when it looks at them.
Though, usually the answer is right the first time and the second guessing to make sure I "followed the proper method" is what fucks it up.
"Use the trial and error method and show your work."
Fuck...really?
It is honestly why I'm taking remedial math, again.
I took it a few years ago and didn't write a single thing down, did it all in my brain space just to prove I could.
This time, I'm trying to learn to show "my work" or their version of the work, or however you look at it.
It's hard to show how a blender works on a sheet of paper.
Most of my notes are half numbers or place holders so that if I get stuck I have a solid place to start from rather than all the way at the beginning.
But then, this factoring nonsense.
I understand I need to learn the foundations of how it's traditionally done to understand math I'll need to do later.
But hot ham, seriously?
Between it being warm in the class room almost to the point of sweating this week, running on little sleep, I end up nodding off while waiting for the class to catch up to where I'm at in the practice work so that I can ask a question and verify that I'm doing it correctly.
While I"m crunching numbers I"m wide awake.
The moment I stop My brain starts wanting silly things like "rest" and "sleep"
Honestly though, I should have started working on the math the moment I woke up, or last night before passing out. But frankly, I was dealing with a lot of emotions, pain in the knees from moving the remainder of my belongings to the place I'm staying and feeling emotionally overwhelmed by how little space I have to work with and how much stuff I won't be able to fit into it.
That, even after I do sell of the collections and things that I'm willing to part with out of necessity of streamlining my belongings to the absolute essentials. Hell, even my costuming stuff I've been wearing all through Halloween so that I can wear it all one more time before it ends up, more than likely, in the trash.
I can't sell it and it's all tailored. So what the hell am I supposed to do with it?
So, box by box I'll have to go through it and sell, trash, or give things away.
While finding shelving to fit into the space that I have so that I can keep at least a handful of the books I spent my life curating.
I had bought shelves for all of these collections...but...well...yeah.
I'll do it, I need to do it.
It's either that or I just say fuck it and wander off into the woods and leave it to whoever wants it.
Which...honestly...as tired and emotionally wrung out as I am after the past week...doesn't seem so bad.
I picked destiny back up, which has helped a little. Started streaming again, if for no other reason than to distract myself from curling up in a ball in the corner and crying myself to sleep as I've been getting a handle on this wackadoo schedule I've put myself on and my brain begins having time to reflect on life the universe and everything.
Running around on far flung planets "saving the universe" is a nice distraction from the train wreck that I call a life. But, much like real life, I go on these adventures solo. Seeing fellow travelers and working with people for the mission, or for the match, then wandering off down my own path again.
Random observers watching my antics as I throw my thoughts and babbelings into the ether.
But hey, such is the life of a kid genius turned broken adult that spent their intervening years playing at being a super hero and stepping on the dicks of people that usually do the stepping.
Trying,and usually failing, not to hurt the people that I'm trying to help in the process
Either way, most people look at me as a crazy ass hole that they're only stuck talking to because they're being paid to for one reason or another.
And me, either with headphones in or running my mouth to avoid the ringing in my ears. Both making me look like even more dickish, self entitled, and "he thinks he's better than us."
Then... over hearing the bullshit people say when they think I can't hear them.
Feelings? Who has those?
Yay.
Anyways, food, nap, then another stab at math, and maybe a little exploration of a haunted moon, then work.
But I love doing math.
How stupid is that?
In high school I was kicked out of my math class because every time I was told to "show my work" I refused.
At first the teacher thought I was cheating.
Then, when I walked her through my method in the sections we were working on she told me "That's not the part of the book we're learning."
"Well I haven't read that part of the book, that's just how the numbers work out."
"Do it the way I'm teaching the class."
"No. It's slow, it's stupid, and it's a waste of time."
"Get out of my class."
"Fine."
Next week.
"Hey, you need to take that pentagram off and turn your pagan shirt inside out. It's offensive."
"No he doesn't. If you're going to use that logic then you need to have her take her crucifix off and turn that Jesus shirt inside out."
"It's not the same thing."
"It kind of is."
"How does this even effect you."
"Because we live in america and we have freedom of religion. So either they both do or neither of them do."
"Get out of my class."
"Fine."
"Don't come back."
"It's a waste of time anyway."
So now, as an adult I'm trying to "relearn" the math I was kicked out of.
Truth is, I knew it, forgot it because I wasn't using it, and am having a hard time reconciling the short hand that the teacher throws at us during class and then having to reteach myself with the book after class because the short hand doesn't stick.
Friggin broke down into tears working on this factoring nonsense because when I went to do it I just started writing down answers and was skipping the work part, then had to erase it all and start over. Then couldn't remember which version of the factoring I was supposed to be doing for that section of the homework and it's all so damned stupid.
I can't help it.
I look at numbers, they go into my head like a blender and then the blender spits out a damned answer. Sometimes in the numbers come out in the wrong order, more now than they used to because life happened. But then I look at the numbers my brain spit out on paper and they go through the blender again.
Then my brain goes "nope." or "yep" And I keep working and reworking them until the blender says "yep" when it looks at them.
Though, usually the answer is right the first time and the second guessing to make sure I "followed the proper method" is what fucks it up.
"Use the trial and error method and show your work."
Fuck...really?
It is honestly why I'm taking remedial math, again.
I took it a few years ago and didn't write a single thing down, did it all in my brain space just to prove I could.
This time, I'm trying to learn to show "my work" or their version of the work, or however you look at it.
It's hard to show how a blender works on a sheet of paper.
Most of my notes are half numbers or place holders so that if I get stuck I have a solid place to start from rather than all the way at the beginning.
But then, this factoring nonsense.
I understand I need to learn the foundations of how it's traditionally done to understand math I'll need to do later.
But hot ham, seriously?
Between it being warm in the class room almost to the point of sweating this week, running on little sleep, I end up nodding off while waiting for the class to catch up to where I'm at in the practice work so that I can ask a question and verify that I'm doing it correctly.
While I"m crunching numbers I"m wide awake.
The moment I stop My brain starts wanting silly things like "rest" and "sleep"
Honestly though, I should have started working on the math the moment I woke up, or last night before passing out. But frankly, I was dealing with a lot of emotions, pain in the knees from moving the remainder of my belongings to the place I'm staying and feeling emotionally overwhelmed by how little space I have to work with and how much stuff I won't be able to fit into it.
That, even after I do sell of the collections and things that I'm willing to part with out of necessity of streamlining my belongings to the absolute essentials. Hell, even my costuming stuff I've been wearing all through Halloween so that I can wear it all one more time before it ends up, more than likely, in the trash.
I can't sell it and it's all tailored. So what the hell am I supposed to do with it?
So, box by box I'll have to go through it and sell, trash, or give things away.
While finding shelving to fit into the space that I have so that I can keep at least a handful of the books I spent my life curating.
I had bought shelves for all of these collections...but...well...yeah.
I'll do it, I need to do it.
It's either that or I just say fuck it and wander off into the woods and leave it to whoever wants it.
Which...honestly...as tired and emotionally wrung out as I am after the past week...doesn't seem so bad.
I picked destiny back up, which has helped a little. Started streaming again, if for no other reason than to distract myself from curling up in a ball in the corner and crying myself to sleep as I've been getting a handle on this wackadoo schedule I've put myself on and my brain begins having time to reflect on life the universe and everything.
Running around on far flung planets "saving the universe" is a nice distraction from the train wreck that I call a life. But, much like real life, I go on these adventures solo. Seeing fellow travelers and working with people for the mission, or for the match, then wandering off down my own path again.
Random observers watching my antics as I throw my thoughts and babbelings into the ether.
But hey, such is the life of a kid genius turned broken adult that spent their intervening years playing at being a super hero and stepping on the dicks of people that usually do the stepping.
Trying,and usually failing, not to hurt the people that I'm trying to help in the process
Either way, most people look at me as a crazy ass hole that they're only stuck talking to because they're being paid to for one reason or another.
And me, either with headphones in or running my mouth to avoid the ringing in my ears. Both making me look like even more dickish, self entitled, and "he thinks he's better than us."
Then... over hearing the bullshit people say when they think I can't hear them.
Feelings? Who has those?
Yay.
Anyways, food, nap, then another stab at math, and maybe a little exploration of a haunted moon, then work.
Tuesday, October 22, 2019
Ouch, the Feels
Today was interesting. I was in my acting class and the activity for the day was "Act out a time you felt like a hero with your group."
Man, I thought about it and there are very few times in my life where I've actually felt that way. I've done some crazy things, helped folks out of tight spots, hell even kept people from getting killed a few times.
But actually feeling like a hero?
Only one instance really came to mind. Everything else felt necessary. Felt like what you were supposed to do in the moment.
The thing that came to mind for me was, well, was a time when I was facing a drugged and drunken dealer who was violent and ready to act that way.
I can't tell you where I was before.
I can't tell you where I went after.
What I can tell you is that someone got a call from their friend.
Their boyfriend refused to get out of the car, had broken the windshield in their violence, and was...well in a state.
That person that got the call turned to me and asked "can you help."
My answer, was of course, yes.
I always try to help if I can.
We pulled up, the girl was standing outside of the car trying to talk the man into getting out. He was, refusing. I came up and got his attention. That's when time crystallized.
Angry he got out, nearly breaking the door off of it's hinges with the force that he kicked it open with.
I waved the two away towards my car getting them out of his line of sight.
I told him he needed to calm down.
He asked me why the fuck it was any of my business.
I just shrugged and said that he was making it my business.
His hand went behind his back and under his shirt.
I stood, hands in my coat pocket.s.
Cool, wet autumn air on my face.
I looked around to the gathering crowd and said he was making it a lot of peoples business.
His eyes darted furtively around.
I asked if he was staying there, if this was where his room was.
He nodded and his hand returned to his back and re tucked his shirt.
I told him, in a quite voice, that he should probably go sleep it off.
Maybe make sure he hadn't broke his hand.
He looked at me, his hand twitched towards his back again.
I didn't move, just smirked the way I do when I find something amusing.
I told him the girl was coming with me and her friend.
They got in her car and drove off as he headed towards his room.
I watched the door close behind him before I moved, then got in my car and went to a meeting point.
My hands only shook a little.
The weird thing is that during the scene in class my acting partner that was playing the part of the "boyfriend" was so convincing in her look and demeanor that the calm overtook me in that moment.
When I told the class that I had been "undercover" they were all very confused.
"Where are/you a cop?" The teacher asked.
No I answered and gave what I saw as my job description at the time.
A coordinator.
All I can say is "Watch the Salton Sea" and maybe it will make a little more sense.
But rather than a trumpet playing husband I was a do gooder with a chip on my shoulder the size of a moon and a self preservation streak the width of a micron.
Never carried a weapon save for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter or two.
Out of all of the shenanigans I've gotten up to over the years.
Out of all of the things I've done in my life.
Why did that make me feel like a hero?
Some of my classmates, as we were packing up our stuff and heading out, said nice things in the way of "encouragement?" "admiration?" I don't know, my mind was still feeling the cold wind on my face.
My only response to their retreating backs in a voice barley loud enough to be heard was "Do not confuse stupidity for bravery."
My old wounds ached with memory.
Tickling the depths of time and emotion as I felt the hole in my chest as though it had just happened.
Why did that moment make me feel like a hero?
Was it the chivalry of the moment?
Was it the calm, steely demeanor with which I handled the situation.
Was it that I convinced a drunken and drugged out angry kid that he should take a nap instead of doing something stupid?
That, that right there, I think is it.
Not that I was intimidating.
Not that I saved a damsel in distress.
Not that I busted a drug dealer.
None of that "heroic" nonsense.
I felt like a hero because no one got hurt aside from a cracked window.
That I gave someone in a stupid situation an out.
Honestly, most of the other people in class where much more heroic than I have ever been.
Comforting others, saving lives, making others feel cared for.
All I did was stand there and accept the possibilities in a cold logical form.
It just sounds "cool" because there was a gun and a drug dealer.
As "cool" as it all was it didn't stop the bullets that came later.
There is a difference about talking in front of a group who are listening and paying attention.
Between pontificating about it on the internet and being braggadocios about the idiocy of my youth with people that aren't really paying attention or are skeptical.
"He was the drug dealer and criminal" sorts of thoughts plain on their faces.
After we completed our little play in class I stood there as we were given feedback uncomfortably hoping not to be asked any questions.
Trying to avoid looking at anyone and seeing their reactions.
Feeling more in my own skin than I have for awhile.
Feeling naked and afraid.
Not feeling like a hero, but wishing I had chosen something like saving a kitten or something more...normal.
Less...me.
Hopefully, when I do finally crawl into bed in seventeen hours or so that the nightmares from that time don't keep me awake.
That the banging, barking, and voices on the other side of thin walls don't keep my heart pounding. Don't keep the survival instincts kicked into overdrive and ready to run into what ever danger my mind perceives.
Just exhausted, dreamless, unconsciousness, that lets me wake up feeling...if not refreshed... at least rested enough to run myself to exhaustion again.
For now, some food, maybe a nap, then some math to keep me distracted for a little while.
Man, I thought about it and there are very few times in my life where I've actually felt that way. I've done some crazy things, helped folks out of tight spots, hell even kept people from getting killed a few times.
But actually feeling like a hero?
Only one instance really came to mind. Everything else felt necessary. Felt like what you were supposed to do in the moment.
The thing that came to mind for me was, well, was a time when I was facing a drugged and drunken dealer who was violent and ready to act that way.
I can't tell you where I was before.
I can't tell you where I went after.
What I can tell you is that someone got a call from their friend.
Their boyfriend refused to get out of the car, had broken the windshield in their violence, and was...well in a state.
That person that got the call turned to me and asked "can you help."
My answer, was of course, yes.
I always try to help if I can.
We pulled up, the girl was standing outside of the car trying to talk the man into getting out. He was, refusing. I came up and got his attention. That's when time crystallized.
Angry he got out, nearly breaking the door off of it's hinges with the force that he kicked it open with.
I waved the two away towards my car getting them out of his line of sight.
I told him he needed to calm down.
He asked me why the fuck it was any of my business.
I just shrugged and said that he was making it my business.
His hand went behind his back and under his shirt.
I stood, hands in my coat pocket.s.
Cool, wet autumn air on my face.
I looked around to the gathering crowd and said he was making it a lot of peoples business.
His eyes darted furtively around.
I asked if he was staying there, if this was where his room was.
He nodded and his hand returned to his back and re tucked his shirt.
I told him, in a quite voice, that he should probably go sleep it off.
Maybe make sure he hadn't broke his hand.
He looked at me, his hand twitched towards his back again.
I didn't move, just smirked the way I do when I find something amusing.
I told him the girl was coming with me and her friend.
They got in her car and drove off as he headed towards his room.
I watched the door close behind him before I moved, then got in my car and went to a meeting point.
My hands only shook a little.
The weird thing is that during the scene in class my acting partner that was playing the part of the "boyfriend" was so convincing in her look and demeanor that the calm overtook me in that moment.
When I told the class that I had been "undercover" they were all very confused.
"Where are/you a cop?" The teacher asked.
No I answered and gave what I saw as my job description at the time.
A coordinator.
All I can say is "Watch the Salton Sea" and maybe it will make a little more sense.
But rather than a trumpet playing husband I was a do gooder with a chip on my shoulder the size of a moon and a self preservation streak the width of a micron.
Never carried a weapon save for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter or two.
Out of all of the shenanigans I've gotten up to over the years.
Out of all of the things I've done in my life.
Why did that make me feel like a hero?
Some of my classmates, as we were packing up our stuff and heading out, said nice things in the way of "encouragement?" "admiration?" I don't know, my mind was still feeling the cold wind on my face.
My only response to their retreating backs in a voice barley loud enough to be heard was "Do not confuse stupidity for bravery."
My old wounds ached with memory.
Tickling the depths of time and emotion as I felt the hole in my chest as though it had just happened.
Why did that moment make me feel like a hero?
Was it the chivalry of the moment?
Was it the calm, steely demeanor with which I handled the situation.
Was it that I convinced a drunken and drugged out angry kid that he should take a nap instead of doing something stupid?
That, that right there, I think is it.
Not that I was intimidating.
Not that I saved a damsel in distress.
Not that I busted a drug dealer.
None of that "heroic" nonsense.
I felt like a hero because no one got hurt aside from a cracked window.
That I gave someone in a stupid situation an out.
Honestly, most of the other people in class where much more heroic than I have ever been.
Comforting others, saving lives, making others feel cared for.
All I did was stand there and accept the possibilities in a cold logical form.
It just sounds "cool" because there was a gun and a drug dealer.
As "cool" as it all was it didn't stop the bullets that came later.
There is a difference about talking in front of a group who are listening and paying attention.
Between pontificating about it on the internet and being braggadocios about the idiocy of my youth with people that aren't really paying attention or are skeptical.
"He was the drug dealer and criminal" sorts of thoughts plain on their faces.
After we completed our little play in class I stood there as we were given feedback uncomfortably hoping not to be asked any questions.
Trying to avoid looking at anyone and seeing their reactions.
Feeling more in my own skin than I have for awhile.
Feeling naked and afraid.
Not feeling like a hero, but wishing I had chosen something like saving a kitten or something more...normal.
Less...me.
Hopefully, when I do finally crawl into bed in seventeen hours or so that the nightmares from that time don't keep me awake.
That the banging, barking, and voices on the other side of thin walls don't keep my heart pounding. Don't keep the survival instincts kicked into overdrive and ready to run into what ever danger my mind perceives.
Just exhausted, dreamless, unconsciousness, that lets me wake up feeling...if not refreshed... at least rested enough to run myself to exhaustion again.
For now, some food, maybe a nap, then some math to keep me distracted for a little while.
Sunday, October 20, 2019
Double the Flavor
This weekend was a busy one. Tons of homework, made myself do some streaming despite not having the time for it, and helping the roommates pull their house together so that we can all have work space and a clean and comfortable place to work on our projects. Granted, we ended up skipping over the D&D session we had planned, but everyone was half asleep and tired as hell from our various activities so it it wasn't a huge let down. That, and as the DM it gives me a little more time to read over the starter adventure I'll be running and doing some small modifications to in order to fit this groups back story and spring board into 5th eds current adventure.
All of that aside I did treat myself to a couple of morning movies this weekend. Starting with Zombieland : Double Tap.
Was it good? That's an interesting question.
What made the first movie lightning in a bottle was that it struck right on the crest of the zombie wave of the late 00's that it's humor and atmosphere rode that wave like a Hawaiian surfer catching the perfect wave.
This second outing doesn't have that momentum, but it does do a decent job of wake boarding in the shallows. Giving just enough throw back humor to cater to the fans of the original while not embedding it's self so much into the lore that those that hadn't seen it won't have a good time with it.
It's a zombie movie after all. Zombies eat people, the survivors shoot them, jokes are told.
There was fun zombie mayhem, and it actually got me to laugh out loud more than once. Which, if you know me and what I'm like when watching movies, is a bit of a rarity.
Arbitrary Rating : B
Zombie fun for fans of the genre, and accessible enough for newcomers to be able to giggle along at the outlandish mayhem. Only lacking an A for failing to find it's own rhythm.
The second outing was Maleficent.
Oh man.
What a beautifully realized movie.
The imagery, the character design, the costumes were all a visual feast. The camera work, to give the sense of flight and scale from the larger birds eye view to the smaller view of a floating flower peddle were all utilized beautifully and gave a sense of depth and immersion that was only broken by problems that have plagued any movie blending CGI and live action. Broken sight lines and not quite convincing physical interactions. Though, arguably, as the art has evolved these things are more nitpicks by the eyes of someone looking for those things rather than something that would likely be noticed by the average movie goer.
When it comes to the story of the film, I am a fan of the "Bad Guy, that's not really that bad" motif. The lead women of the film definitely carried the film and turned in good performances all around. The only real complaint I had from the story telling stand point was the dramatic tone shifts that happened regularly. It would go from a raucous family romp to a dark commentary on war in the blink of an eye. Feeling jarring. Like they took two different movies with the same characters and mashed them together. Or, rather, they looked at this beautifully gothic and dark piece and the suits said; "umm...we need to lighten this up a bit" and injected whimsical music and silly floofery at some awkward moments.
Arbitrary Rating : B-
Beautiful imagery and engaging story. Whiplash tonal switches keeping it from being either a family friendly romp or a dark gothic tale and settling into it's own.
All of that aside I did treat myself to a couple of morning movies this weekend. Starting with Zombieland : Double Tap.
Was it good? That's an interesting question.
What made the first movie lightning in a bottle was that it struck right on the crest of the zombie wave of the late 00's that it's humor and atmosphere rode that wave like a Hawaiian surfer catching the perfect wave.
This second outing doesn't have that momentum, but it does do a decent job of wake boarding in the shallows. Giving just enough throw back humor to cater to the fans of the original while not embedding it's self so much into the lore that those that hadn't seen it won't have a good time with it.
It's a zombie movie after all. Zombies eat people, the survivors shoot them, jokes are told.
There was fun zombie mayhem, and it actually got me to laugh out loud more than once. Which, if you know me and what I'm like when watching movies, is a bit of a rarity.
Arbitrary Rating : B
Zombie fun for fans of the genre, and accessible enough for newcomers to be able to giggle along at the outlandish mayhem. Only lacking an A for failing to find it's own rhythm.
The second outing was Maleficent.
Oh man.
What a beautifully realized movie.
The imagery, the character design, the costumes were all a visual feast. The camera work, to give the sense of flight and scale from the larger birds eye view to the smaller view of a floating flower peddle were all utilized beautifully and gave a sense of depth and immersion that was only broken by problems that have plagued any movie blending CGI and live action. Broken sight lines and not quite convincing physical interactions. Though, arguably, as the art has evolved these things are more nitpicks by the eyes of someone looking for those things rather than something that would likely be noticed by the average movie goer.
When it comes to the story of the film, I am a fan of the "Bad Guy, that's not really that bad" motif. The lead women of the film definitely carried the film and turned in good performances all around. The only real complaint I had from the story telling stand point was the dramatic tone shifts that happened regularly. It would go from a raucous family romp to a dark commentary on war in the blink of an eye. Feeling jarring. Like they took two different movies with the same characters and mashed them together. Or, rather, they looked at this beautifully gothic and dark piece and the suits said; "umm...we need to lighten this up a bit" and injected whimsical music and silly floofery at some awkward moments.
Arbitrary Rating : B-
Beautiful imagery and engaging story. Whiplash tonal switches keeping it from being either a family friendly romp or a dark gothic tale and settling into it's own.
Sunday, October 13, 2019
Twinsies?
I went to see Gemini Man this last Saturday.
I booked my ticket and made the plan before asking anyone else what they were up to.
It's just kind of the way I've done things over the years. You know, there is a plan, there is a goal. Nothing will get in my way. Which means I missed going to another pride parade and the people I invited to go with me to the movie already had plans. But that's the things my intrepid reader. My plan has always been the same. There's been little deviation over the years.
Be a Writer,
Watch Movies and Shows,
Play Games
Be a Super Hero.
Be an Actor
Be an Astronaut.
Be President.
Do the best job I can what ever the task.
So when it comes to how I structure my time and chase my goals it usually falls into one of these categories. Obviously some I end up "stepping on dicks" when so single minded in regards to my goals. But hey, whatever, they're my goals, not yours.
Anyways, the movie. Gemini Man.
I'm very conflicted about this movie.
For one it was a technical masterpiece. The action was beautifully choreographed, they were obviously using amazing hi speed cameras to capture every detail, The CG was so seamless that even my trained eye was fooled more than once and it was only tiny tells in the way that a face moved or the physics of a persons motions didn't quite fit rational physics, but it was so close I was able to let it go and enjoy the beautiful dance that was the action.
My complaints with the movie was in the writing. It felt very much like it was written by a non English speaker that used google translate to translate it and then had the actors smooth out the dialogue real time. Which meant that the non action sequences of the film felt heavy and slowly paced. Which is not a bad thing, but arguably, I felt that much of exposition could have been communicated through non verbal means. The strength of the film being it's choreographed physicality and whoever the decision makers were should have had Ang Lee lean into that strength.
You may be asking yourself why I included the introduction of my own personal life before leaping into the movie.
Well, for starters, it is my blog meant to be the text dump of my brain when I need an outlet other than technical writing or a place to post samples of things. But also because outside of the stilted dialogue there was real chemistry between the actors of the film. You got the sense that they understood their characters and their motivations. And, "Henry" I connected on a personal level, which is probably what made me stay through some of the more painfully plodding dialogue sections. The whole, sacrificing ones personal life in order to do something for the "greater good", not truly understanding how to sleep at night, the avoiding of mirrors, and the only real happiness coming from doing a task so well it feels second nature.
Final Arbitrary Rating
Solid C.
A technical marvel of blending choreography and CG but stilted exposition and dialogue broke the rhythm of the movie.
Definitely a "It's Sunday afternoon and I need something on while doing the dishes" kind of movie.
I booked my ticket and made the plan before asking anyone else what they were up to.
It's just kind of the way I've done things over the years. You know, there is a plan, there is a goal. Nothing will get in my way. Which means I missed going to another pride parade and the people I invited to go with me to the movie already had plans. But that's the things my intrepid reader. My plan has always been the same. There's been little deviation over the years.
Be a Writer,
Watch Movies and Shows,
Play Games
Be a Super Hero.
Be an Actor
Be an Astronaut.
Be President.
Do the best job I can what ever the task.
So when it comes to how I structure my time and chase my goals it usually falls into one of these categories. Obviously some I end up "stepping on dicks" when so single minded in regards to my goals. But hey, whatever, they're my goals, not yours.
Anyways, the movie. Gemini Man.
I'm very conflicted about this movie.
For one it was a technical masterpiece. The action was beautifully choreographed, they were obviously using amazing hi speed cameras to capture every detail, The CG was so seamless that even my trained eye was fooled more than once and it was only tiny tells in the way that a face moved or the physics of a persons motions didn't quite fit rational physics, but it was so close I was able to let it go and enjoy the beautiful dance that was the action.
My complaints with the movie was in the writing. It felt very much like it was written by a non English speaker that used google translate to translate it and then had the actors smooth out the dialogue real time. Which meant that the non action sequences of the film felt heavy and slowly paced. Which is not a bad thing, but arguably, I felt that much of exposition could have been communicated through non verbal means. The strength of the film being it's choreographed physicality and whoever the decision makers were should have had Ang Lee lean into that strength.
You may be asking yourself why I included the introduction of my own personal life before leaping into the movie.
Well, for starters, it is my blog meant to be the text dump of my brain when I need an outlet other than technical writing or a place to post samples of things. But also because outside of the stilted dialogue there was real chemistry between the actors of the film. You got the sense that they understood their characters and their motivations. And, "Henry" I connected on a personal level, which is probably what made me stay through some of the more painfully plodding dialogue sections. The whole, sacrificing ones personal life in order to do something for the "greater good", not truly understanding how to sleep at night, the avoiding of mirrors, and the only real happiness coming from doing a task so well it feels second nature.
Final Arbitrary Rating
Solid C.
A technical marvel of blending choreography and CG but stilted exposition and dialogue broke the rhythm of the movie.
Definitely a "It's Sunday afternoon and I need something on while doing the dishes" kind of movie.
Sunday, October 6, 2019
Jokes on You
This morning I went to the local theater to see the Joker.
I have to say it was an unhinged movie.
It was scarily accurate in it's portrayal of mental illness and the battles there in.
Without giving away too much of what happens, because this is a film that needs to be experienced, it reminded me a lot of "Cast Away" but rather than watching a man alone on an island you watch a man alone in the world. Which is much more unnerving.
The art direction, costuming, and musical selections gave this comic book film a grounding in reality that made me go "hmm, yeah, I can see exactly how something like this could happen." Not to mention Joaquin Phoenix's performance. The laugh, the way he inhabits the character and giving homage to all of his predecessors while making it distinctly his own.
Was the movie enjoyable?
Well that's a difficult question to answer. Because between the writing, the acting, and the design aesthetic they did such an amazing job of being unnerving that it really did feel unnerving. I thought it was amazing. A movie that, as I said, needs to be experienced.
Because it is an experience.
Arbitrary Rating?
A+
A character study artfully put together and grounding one of the most over the top characters in a believable story arc. Not to mention being creepy as all get out.
I have to say it was an unhinged movie.
It was scarily accurate in it's portrayal of mental illness and the battles there in.
Without giving away too much of what happens, because this is a film that needs to be experienced, it reminded me a lot of "Cast Away" but rather than watching a man alone on an island you watch a man alone in the world. Which is much more unnerving.
The art direction, costuming, and musical selections gave this comic book film a grounding in reality that made me go "hmm, yeah, I can see exactly how something like this could happen." Not to mention Joaquin Phoenix's performance. The laugh, the way he inhabits the character and giving homage to all of his predecessors while making it distinctly his own.
Was the movie enjoyable?
Well that's a difficult question to answer. Because between the writing, the acting, and the design aesthetic they did such an amazing job of being unnerving that it really did feel unnerving. I thought it was amazing. A movie that, as I said, needs to be experienced.
Because it is an experience.
Arbitrary Rating?
A+
A character study artfully put together and grounding one of the most over the top characters in a believable story arc. Not to mention being creepy as all get out.
Saturday, October 5, 2019
Square One
No matter how hard or fast I run I can't seem to get away.
After running around 3000 miles away from the neighborhood that drove me into a spiral of depression I find myself right back in it.
Running out of money and time. Literal days away from being on the street and some people that I knew from one of the many jobs I've had over the years offered space in their home. They're good, hardworking, people that I trusted to stay true to their word even if young.
Little did I know that they lived just a few blocks away from the place I was trying to avoid.
I came back to the valley to pull my life together after pulling myself back together. Some people think that those things go hand in hand. the life and the self. But not so much.
Pulling myself back together involved reminding myself of my goals, reminding myself of what I'm after and where I'm trying to get to. Pulling the life together means going through the things that are left after the crumbling of a shared life.
The belongings, the feelings, the financials. Which, on my end means not a lot.
Some toys,
Some tools,
Some games.
The financials were all in the spouse and their families name.
Idiot ass me. I had my name on bills, but none of the assets.
You would think that after having so many failed relationships in my life that I would have focused on building up my own finances and assets rather than those of someone else.
But hey, I don't have "friends."
I have coworkers, colleagues, students, and teachers.
I don't really understand how "friends" works.
Obviously.
From day one my spouse had their foot half out the door.
Funny that I was the one to walk out it in the end.
I had promised not to abandon them.
Which, I do not think I did.
What I did do was acquiesce.
Left a place that I felt to be home rather than trying to fix it.
Lived in a place that I was not comfortable with from day one.
Cut myself off from opportunities and people that I cared about to alleviate my spouses fears and comfort.
Stopped doing many of the things that made me me. Like riding a bike.
Forced myself to socialize and make connections with people from my past I wasn't comfortable with.
And the intimate side of things...well. That is going to take a lot of therapy on my part.
As it stands, the one opportunity I theoretically had to be intimate with someone else since the divorce I nearly had a panic attack because of...a lot of things I don't want to get into here.
The other thing that is a strait kick in the balls is that after working at learning how to craft and make things for so long that my skills are next to nil. That everyone else around me having the ability to draw, to create, to make beautiful things.
My artistic abilities in that regard so utilitarian it can't even be called art.
No wonder I can't find anyone that wants to pay me for the work that I do or my writing.
So I'm starting with nothing other than the debt I've accrued trying to pull myself back together and, again, because none of the assets were in my name I can't even get a loan to consolidate the ridiculousness of it to be able to pay it off. As I make my payments to try and maintain at least the credentials of having a good payment history I watch the interest climb. Realizing that the hole I'm buried in has no bottom. That no matter how hard I work, no matter my experience, every place I apply at keeps offering me entry level pay.
It's insulting to the extreme, but I take the pay and work the hours because if I don't then I can't even pay the bills.
Everyone looks at the things that I have, the nice clothes, the nice tools, the toys. And say "oh they must be so rich." no, I just work my ass off, work my fingers to the bone, destroy my body and mind by working around the clock, run myself ragged by getting to places on time for little to no pay because that's how I was raised.
Funny that, I was always taught that if you work hard it will eventually pay off.
Still waiting.
To grounded in my morals to put up with discriminatory work places and coworkers.
To proud to ask for hand outs.
What's left?
Sell off the toys and tools for less than what they're worth.
Work for minimum wage to slowly drown in debt.
Keep scraping the money for school together so that maybe one day my research and writing will be recognized as something other than the mad ravings of an incel on the internet.
My only real fear right now.... the stuff, the money, the finances moot...is if being back in the neighborhood that I was trying to get away from is going to drive me back into the depression I fought so hard to claw out of.
I made it clear to the roommates that I was going to be working towards moving somewhere I felt more comfortable as soon as I could even the financial math isn't adding up to that being any time soon.
Hell, I'll be honest.
I battle with suicidal thoughts daily, and have since I was in high school. But aside from one attempt in my early twenties have never fallen into that trap.
It's hard sometimes.
When I think people aren't watching or can't hear I cry.
I go places to work on my writing and other pursuits to be around other people doing the same so that I can remind myself that I'm not the only one working towards a better future.
I berate myself for the weakness.
Try to remind myself of my worth even if most of the rest of the world doesn't see it.
Suffer through the aches and pains of exertion to avoid the aches and pains of my disabilities.
I do what I have to to survive.
To keep breathing to fight for another day.
Most of the time it means throwing myself into my work, what ever it is.
Often times it means trying to make other peoples lives better in some way.
But at the end of the day I have my words, I have my determination, and I have my grit.
I refuse to give up, even if the weight of debt and insulting pay rates threatens to bury me beyond being able to get out of them.
After running around 3000 miles away from the neighborhood that drove me into a spiral of depression I find myself right back in it.
Running out of money and time. Literal days away from being on the street and some people that I knew from one of the many jobs I've had over the years offered space in their home. They're good, hardworking, people that I trusted to stay true to their word even if young.
Little did I know that they lived just a few blocks away from the place I was trying to avoid.
I came back to the valley to pull my life together after pulling myself back together. Some people think that those things go hand in hand. the life and the self. But not so much.
Pulling myself back together involved reminding myself of my goals, reminding myself of what I'm after and where I'm trying to get to. Pulling the life together means going through the things that are left after the crumbling of a shared life.
The belongings, the feelings, the financials. Which, on my end means not a lot.
Some toys,
Some tools,
Some games.
The financials were all in the spouse and their families name.
Idiot ass me. I had my name on bills, but none of the assets.
You would think that after having so many failed relationships in my life that I would have focused on building up my own finances and assets rather than those of someone else.
But hey, I don't have "friends."
I have coworkers, colleagues, students, and teachers.
I don't really understand how "friends" works.
Obviously.
From day one my spouse had their foot half out the door.
Funny that I was the one to walk out it in the end.
I had promised not to abandon them.
Which, I do not think I did.
What I did do was acquiesce.
Left a place that I felt to be home rather than trying to fix it.
Lived in a place that I was not comfortable with from day one.
Cut myself off from opportunities and people that I cared about to alleviate my spouses fears and comfort.
Stopped doing many of the things that made me me. Like riding a bike.
Forced myself to socialize and make connections with people from my past I wasn't comfortable with.
And the intimate side of things...well. That is going to take a lot of therapy on my part.
As it stands, the one opportunity I theoretically had to be intimate with someone else since the divorce I nearly had a panic attack because of...a lot of things I don't want to get into here.
The other thing that is a strait kick in the balls is that after working at learning how to craft and make things for so long that my skills are next to nil. That everyone else around me having the ability to draw, to create, to make beautiful things.
My artistic abilities in that regard so utilitarian it can't even be called art.
No wonder I can't find anyone that wants to pay me for the work that I do or my writing.
So I'm starting with nothing other than the debt I've accrued trying to pull myself back together and, again, because none of the assets were in my name I can't even get a loan to consolidate the ridiculousness of it to be able to pay it off. As I make my payments to try and maintain at least the credentials of having a good payment history I watch the interest climb. Realizing that the hole I'm buried in has no bottom. That no matter how hard I work, no matter my experience, every place I apply at keeps offering me entry level pay.
It's insulting to the extreme, but I take the pay and work the hours because if I don't then I can't even pay the bills.
Everyone looks at the things that I have, the nice clothes, the nice tools, the toys. And say "oh they must be so rich." no, I just work my ass off, work my fingers to the bone, destroy my body and mind by working around the clock, run myself ragged by getting to places on time for little to no pay because that's how I was raised.
Funny that, I was always taught that if you work hard it will eventually pay off.
Still waiting.
To grounded in my morals to put up with discriminatory work places and coworkers.
To proud to ask for hand outs.
What's left?
Sell off the toys and tools for less than what they're worth.
Work for minimum wage to slowly drown in debt.
Keep scraping the money for school together so that maybe one day my research and writing will be recognized as something other than the mad ravings of an incel on the internet.
My only real fear right now.... the stuff, the money, the finances moot...is if being back in the neighborhood that I was trying to get away from is going to drive me back into the depression I fought so hard to claw out of.
I made it clear to the roommates that I was going to be working towards moving somewhere I felt more comfortable as soon as I could even the financial math isn't adding up to that being any time soon.
Hell, I'll be honest.
I battle with suicidal thoughts daily, and have since I was in high school. But aside from one attempt in my early twenties have never fallen into that trap.
It's hard sometimes.
When I think people aren't watching or can't hear I cry.
I go places to work on my writing and other pursuits to be around other people doing the same so that I can remind myself that I'm not the only one working towards a better future.
I berate myself for the weakness.
Try to remind myself of my worth even if most of the rest of the world doesn't see it.
Suffer through the aches and pains of exertion to avoid the aches and pains of my disabilities.
I do what I have to to survive.
To keep breathing to fight for another day.
Most of the time it means throwing myself into my work, what ever it is.
Often times it means trying to make other peoples lives better in some way.
But at the end of the day I have my words, I have my determination, and I have my grit.
I refuse to give up, even if the weight of debt and insulting pay rates threatens to bury me beyond being able to get out of them.
Friday, September 20, 2019
Ripping out the Heart
With no one willing to invest in a downtown business.
Unable to secure loan sizable enough to give breathing room to get a home business going, or any loan at all at this juncture.
School Financial Aid looking like it will not come through in time, if at all.
And the only jobs hiring that has contacted me back being minimum wage employment.
I look at what I have in storage.
Look at what may still have some resale value.
And the video games collection looks back at me.
I invested in the comics and sold them for a fraction of their worth.
Curated a research library and gave it away.
Spent thousands and countless hours on cards to sell them for pennies on the dollar.
The multi thousand dollar role playing collection of tiles and miniatures was left behind because my partner didn't want to open the shop with me.
The damned shop.
I've outlined the model for it.
Talked to people that I've trusted about it.
Recruited and Kept tabs on those I think could fill the needed roles.
And at the end of the day.
Nothing.
That's the thing man.
"The Shop"
"The Guild Hall" as I want to call it.
There's nothing out there like it.
And, that's the funny part man.
"The Guild Hall"
Man, whatever, a pipe dream.
A retirement plan for a retirement that isn't happening.
I say "let's do the thing, make it the destination."
And as time slowly runs out on being able to keep a roof over my head I realize I have to let it all go.
First the tech.
Posting the gaming collection except my most current iterations for a quarter of what it's worth, much in the way the comics and cards were sold.
I posted the first ad for that this morning, to be updated as I open the boxes and take full stock of what's in there.
Then the Stereo.
A hodgepodge of speakers old and new that I cobbled together and found a quality amp for.
Hundreds of feet of speaker wire, and a few odds and ends to help spread the sound over several rooms.
It doesn't look like much, but when it's set up and EQed it rivals the movie theaters system.
However, living in an apartment or a dorm, or what ever small space I end up in won't support such a robust soundscape.
And not finding anyone to go in with me on opening a shop or work space in a location I'm comfortable with, just more things to collect dust.
After that, the tools and crafting supplies.
The Sewing machines, the leather tools, the hand tools, everything else I've learned to craft and build with.
Again, without a shop.
With out a place to spread out the projects that won't clutter my living space or get dust and debris everywhere.
What the hell is the point of keeping them, other than to store them.
From there, all of the toys, posters, pictures, maps, and paintings, treasure chests and everything else.
Most will be thrown away.
They were all meant to be displays and chotskies for the shop wall when it came together.
Hundreds of linear feet of displays, figures, and maps.
With current jobs available to someone with my background I'll be lucky to get 600sqft of living space with the income offered, let anything resembling crafting space.
Then, finally, the cosplay and photo supplies.
The Costumes, the prop weapons, all of the things that I thought I was going to need to work and train as a stunt man.
Shit, work your ass off, literally and the only thing I have to show for it is some pretty pictures that I, or friends took and never actually being paid to do the thing for a production. Just a handful of live shows and demonstrations.
Hell, again, can't open the shop, can't have a dojo without space to move in.
Can't get the space without investors or interested parties.
"Get out and Sell yourself."
Tried that ass holes.
That's why I was askin' other people to help.
When I try to sell myself my shyness takes over.
Anyways.
Not the point.
Point is I've spent my whole professional life working for other peoples shops.
Selling other peoples stuff.
Talking up other peoples skills.
And at the end of it.
All of the garbage I've collected in a vain attempt build a dream "isn't valuable enough" to be considered collateral.
The unique set of skills I've cultivated "Isn't what we're looking for."
The projects I've spent my life working towards
"You're just not a candidate"
"We have better options."
"Your medical needs interfere with our attendance policy."
"Your appearance makes people feel uncomfortable"
"You don't have a degree in that."
"You need to apply online."
"That's all we can offer you."
"Your truth conflicts with our beliefs"
"You're just not worth that much."
"Sorry not interested."
In the mean time.
I'll be in my little hole.
Writing.
Training.
Playing the odd game here and there.
And going to work.
Because I've got to pay the phone bill, pay for school, and keep a roof over my head. And even if the work available doesn't offer enough to do that right now.
I at least have to try.
Monday, September 16, 2019
Scattered Neurons
I just finished watching Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency.
Though it is wacky, off the wall, and amusing the Gently in the show was not quite what I imagined the book version of him to be.
That said, it makes me think.
I look at the series, I think of the books.
I think about the "Interconnectedness of all things"
At the end of it all.
I think about the past few months of my life.
I've dreamed this.
I've lived this.
I've experienced it.
It feels like this is the second time.
My brain keeps trying to tell me that I've done all of this previously.
Maybe not exactly the same way, but very close to.
Either that or I dreamed it.
That's the weird thing about the crazy brain of mine that I have.
Not that I am Dirk Gently.
Being bandied about by the Universe and unearthing it's designs.
No.
It comes more from the observation of things.
Seeing things.
I dream so vividly that there have been times in my life that I've looked at the events and said:
"Yep. I told you so."
Except this time is weird.
Usually it's something quantifiable.
Something where I look at someone else in my life and say:
"This thing is going to happen because of this reason."
Their skepticism is understandable.
Much of what I have to offer in the way of information seems outlandish.
Often based on speculation and incomplete information.
But it's like playing chess.
There are only a finite number of moves that an individual can make in a given situation.
You may not know the move the opponent will make next.
But there is a pattern to it.
A finite number of choices to be made.
And that's how my brain sees the world.
Well, arguably, that's how all people's brains see the world.
Some are just more observant than others.
Me, I can't say that I'm more observant.
Just more...
instinctual?
I'm still alive after all.
Holes in my chest.
Broken bones.
Bits that don't work as designed because they broke
or were broke
.
These past few months.
A dream that I had?
Where I saw the places?
Saw the people?
It's weird.
It's kind of insane.
But, because of life, universe, and everything
...I can't help but think.
I've done this all before.
I took the trip before.
I rode that train before.
I came back West before.
Made the marches.
Stayed in the places.
Saw the things
Wrote the things
Applied for the jobs
Enrolled in the classes.
But this time I knew the names of some of the people involved.
Name I didn't know the first time around.
Their stories.
This time I was aware.
Was it coincidence?
Was it the patterning in my brain following a trail I've already walked?
Was it a dream that predicted more than I could have imagined?
Or, the most probable of all of the options.
I'm simply insane.
Regardless of the answer I'll continue to take my notes.
I'll continue to write my papers.
I'll continue to make my videos.
Continue beating down the barriers of academia.
Prove to the world,
Or at least to myself.
That yes.
Yes I can.
Yes I will.
I don't need to be famous.
I don't need to be "right?"
Even with my social awkwardness.
Even with the lack of trust in the people around me.
Even with the lack of trust in myself.
That my research is sound.
That there is quantifiable data to back some, if not all, of it up.
That even if some of the conclusions are mistaken.
Just by asking the questions
the truth can be uncovered.
That there is evidence to show that I am telling the truth.
That my instincts
Often shaped by the trauma and experiences of the past
Are not often wrong.
But after tonight
There are no more games to play.
No more friends to ask for help.
No more time to waste.
Either I pull myself together
get to work
get to school
write my papers.
Or I don't.
Either way.
The people that I left behind.
The people that I trusted.
The people that I counted on.
Did not trust me.
Didn't think I would come back.
Funny that.
I followed the clues.
Followed the investigation.
Followed my instincts.
And they lead me back here.
And at the end of the day.
All I can really say is that.
I did my best.
I did it my way.
Because every time I tried to do it "their" way.
I was harassed.
Discriminated against.
I turned the other cheek.
Bitched about it in the moment.
Complain about it from time to time.
But turned the other cheek.
Walked away.
Found a different rout.
Some would say "Let them get away with it."
Some would say. "Ran away."
Some would say "Didn't stand up for yourself."
But the truth is.
You surround yourself with the people you want to be like.
And at the end of it all I just wanted to be me.
And when I was younger the world tried to cover all up.
And me.
The me deep down inside.
Is a writer.
A commentator.
An investigator.
Some one that has loved and pursued both men and women.
But now.
I pursue no one.
The only thing I have left.
The only thing of value.
Is my art.
My writing.
and Me.
All I have is me.
My cat, dead years ago.
My family, can stay away.
My friends.
ha, ha, ha.
You have to be a friend to have friends.
And frankly.
I don't have those.
I am not one of those.
The only thing I have are colleagues, former colleagues, students, and teachers.
I had a partner once.
Or twice.
Maybe a few times
But they're not here anymore.
Not in my life anymore.
Written me off.
Cut me off.
Let me walk into danger without backup.
They wouldn't walk the streets at night with me.
Wouldn't live in the "Bad" neighborhoods with me.
Wanted to stay "Safe"
Didn't want to follow the path with me.
But the truth is.
There is no "Safe"
There is just this world.
There are just the people in it.
And me?
I walk in it.
I explore it.
I observe it.
The good.
The bad.
The scary.
The beautiful.
To me.
There is no ugly.
Just potential.
Maybe I'll find that partner some day.
The one that will fight by my side.
Not hide behind me.
Not expect me to hide behind them.
Not two converging paths with different goals.
Two walking the same path
With the same goals.
Willing to take the paths less traveled.
But until them I keep on keeping on.
Not trying to take over the world.
Not trying to save it.
Learning from it.
Healing it in small ways as I move through it.
Maybe I never will find that partner.
It's probable.
And with the events of the past few months.
With the way the world views me.
With the way I view the world.
Likely.
We'll see.
I'll see.
Until I don't.
Until then.
I'll stay safe.
Or at least as safe as the world around me.
And after I've written my papers.
After they're published.
After someone other than myself has read them.
I'll go back to the original plan.
Or the plan I've been following.
I'll march into warzones.
Some people think you need to go to the other side of the world to do it.
But the truth is
For most people
For me
For people like me
All you have to do is walk out the front door.
Go around the block.
Maybe there are not bombs being dropped.
But there are guns in the street.
There are killers in the shadows
There are drugs
And until I can't take it anymore I'll stay where I am.
Then.
After I've paid my debts.
Worked off the credit cards.
I'll take what I have left.
Throw or give it away.
Then go to another part of the world.
Find another warzone to sit in.
To observe.
To try and help.
To write about.
To report on.
And even if no one's reading.
or traveling with me.
I'll lend a hand.
I'll lend an ear.
And maybe.
Maybe I'll be able to sleep at night.
Though it is wacky, off the wall, and amusing the Gently in the show was not quite what I imagined the book version of him to be.
That said, it makes me think.
I look at the series, I think of the books.
I think about the "Interconnectedness of all things"
At the end of it all.
I think about the past few months of my life.
I've dreamed this.
I've lived this.
I've experienced it.
It feels like this is the second time.
My brain keeps trying to tell me that I've done all of this previously.
Maybe not exactly the same way, but very close to.
Either that or I dreamed it.
That's the weird thing about the crazy brain of mine that I have.
Not that I am Dirk Gently.
Being bandied about by the Universe and unearthing it's designs.
No.
It comes more from the observation of things.
Seeing things.
I dream so vividly that there have been times in my life that I've looked at the events and said:
"Yep. I told you so."
Except this time is weird.
Usually it's something quantifiable.
Something where I look at someone else in my life and say:
"This thing is going to happen because of this reason."
Their skepticism is understandable.
Much of what I have to offer in the way of information seems outlandish.
Often based on speculation and incomplete information.
But it's like playing chess.
There are only a finite number of moves that an individual can make in a given situation.
You may not know the move the opponent will make next.
But there is a pattern to it.
A finite number of choices to be made.
And that's how my brain sees the world.
Well, arguably, that's how all people's brains see the world.
Some are just more observant than others.
Me, I can't say that I'm more observant.
Just more...
instinctual?
I'm still alive after all.
Holes in my chest.
Broken bones.
Bits that don't work as designed because they broke
or were broke
.
These past few months.
A dream that I had?
Where I saw the places?
Saw the people?
It's weird.
It's kind of insane.
But, because of life, universe, and everything
...I can't help but think.
I've done this all before.
I took the trip before.
I rode that train before.
I came back West before.
Made the marches.
Stayed in the places.
Saw the things
Wrote the things
Applied for the jobs
Enrolled in the classes.
But this time I knew the names of some of the people involved.
Name I didn't know the first time around.
Their stories.
This time I was aware.
Was it coincidence?
Was it the patterning in my brain following a trail I've already walked?
Was it a dream that predicted more than I could have imagined?
Or, the most probable of all of the options.
I'm simply insane.
Regardless of the answer I'll continue to take my notes.
I'll continue to write my papers.
I'll continue to make my videos.
Continue beating down the barriers of academia.
Prove to the world,
Or at least to myself.
That yes.
Yes I can.
Yes I will.
I don't need to be famous.
I don't need to be "right?"
Even with my social awkwardness.
Even with the lack of trust in the people around me.
Even with the lack of trust in myself.
That my research is sound.
That there is quantifiable data to back some, if not all, of it up.
That even if some of the conclusions are mistaken.
Just by asking the questions
the truth can be uncovered.
That there is evidence to show that I am telling the truth.
That my instincts
Often shaped by the trauma and experiences of the past
Are not often wrong.
But after tonight
There are no more games to play.
No more friends to ask for help.
No more time to waste.
Either I pull myself together
get to work
get to school
write my papers.
Or I don't.
Either way.
The people that I left behind.
The people that I trusted.
The people that I counted on.
Did not trust me.
Didn't think I would come back.
Funny that.
I followed the clues.
Followed the investigation.
Followed my instincts.
And they lead me back here.
And at the end of the day.
All I can really say is that.
I did my best.
I did it my way.
Because every time I tried to do it "their" way.
I was harassed.
Discriminated against.
I turned the other cheek.
Bitched about it in the moment.
Complain about it from time to time.
But turned the other cheek.
Walked away.
Found a different rout.
Some would say "Let them get away with it."
Some would say. "Ran away."
Some would say "Didn't stand up for yourself."
But the truth is.
You surround yourself with the people you want to be like.
And at the end of it all I just wanted to be me.
And when I was younger the world tried to cover all up.
And me.
The me deep down inside.
Is a writer.
A commentator.
An investigator.
Some one that has loved and pursued both men and women.
But now.
I pursue no one.
The only thing I have left.
The only thing of value.
Is my art.
My writing.
and Me.
All I have is me.
My cat, dead years ago.
My family, can stay away.
My friends.
ha, ha, ha.
You have to be a friend to have friends.
And frankly.
I don't have those.
I am not one of those.
The only thing I have are colleagues, former colleagues, students, and teachers.
I had a partner once.
Or twice.
Maybe a few times
But they're not here anymore.
Not in my life anymore.
Written me off.
Cut me off.
Let me walk into danger without backup.
They wouldn't walk the streets at night with me.
Wouldn't live in the "Bad" neighborhoods with me.
Wanted to stay "Safe"
Didn't want to follow the path with me.
But the truth is.
There is no "Safe"
There is just this world.
There are just the people in it.
And me?
I walk in it.
I explore it.
I observe it.
The good.
The bad.
The scary.
The beautiful.
To me.
There is no ugly.
Just potential.
Maybe I'll find that partner some day.
The one that will fight by my side.
Not hide behind me.
Not expect me to hide behind them.
Not two converging paths with different goals.
Two walking the same path
With the same goals.
Willing to take the paths less traveled.
But until them I keep on keeping on.
Not trying to take over the world.
Not trying to save it.
Learning from it.
Healing it in small ways as I move through it.
Maybe I never will find that partner.
It's probable.
And with the events of the past few months.
With the way the world views me.
With the way I view the world.
Likely.
We'll see.
I'll see.
Until I don't.
Until then.
I'll stay safe.
Or at least as safe as the world around me.
And after I've written my papers.
After they're published.
After someone other than myself has read them.
I'll go back to the original plan.
Or the plan I've been following.
I'll march into warzones.
Some people think you need to go to the other side of the world to do it.
But the truth is
For most people
For me
For people like me
All you have to do is walk out the front door.
Go around the block.
Maybe there are not bombs being dropped.
But there are guns in the street.
There are killers in the shadows
There are drugs
And until I can't take it anymore I'll stay where I am.
Then.
After I've paid my debts.
Worked off the credit cards.
I'll take what I have left.
Throw or give it away.
Then go to another part of the world.
Find another warzone to sit in.
To observe.
To try and help.
To write about.
To report on.
And even if no one's reading.
or traveling with me.
I'll lend a hand.
I'll lend an ear.
And maybe.
Maybe I'll be able to sleep at night.
Sunday, September 15, 2019
Parents as Students
As I've been going through the steps of applying to the local community college so that I can start pursuing the goals in academia that I've had for many, many, years now I've been finding many hurdles placed in my way. I.E. securing funding that I need to cover housing, transport, food, and of course paying tuition for classes and books. As well as the ongoing research for the papers and program outlines that I'm working on for my graduate thesis.
Yes, I already have outlines and topics for those, and the subject of this post plays into one of them.
Luckily, in many communities, veterans services address this for those with a military background.
For me, both work and school will be starting at the same time.
A car, would admittedly, make transport much easier. However, as part of my physical and mental therapy I only drive when needed for work or not having another viable option for transportation needs. Not only that, but owning and maintaining a vehicle is an expense that equates to having another house hold dependent.
Yes, I already have outlines and topics for those, and the subject of this post plays into one of them.
As any adult learner attempting to break their way into secondary education the biggest issue that you run into is finding the time and energy to do the school work. Not to mention, for those with Trauma in their pasts, finding a ways to navigate a landscape often geared much more towards younger individuals, or those, without such experiences.
Luckily, in many communities, veterans services address this for those with a military background.
For me, both work and school will be starting at the same time.
I'll be working close to full time to begin with, possibly more as work hours and my own motivation make it possible, while also attending school full time. Making that schedule work is going to be rough. Especially when I consider that I will be attempting this in an area where public transit only runs during "regular business hours" with limited service on Saturdays and No service on Sundays.
The distances between school, work, and where I'm currently staying all average about an hour under optimal weather and traffic conditions . With approximately two hours walking on the longer side.
The distances between school, work, and where I'm currently staying all average about an hour under optimal weather and traffic conditions . With approximately two hours walking on the longer side.
Even when public transit is available these commute times are often not lessened.
A car, would admittedly, make transport much easier. However, as part of my physical and mental therapy I only drive when needed for work or not having another viable option for transportation needs. Not only that, but owning and maintaining a vehicle is an expense that equates to having another house hold dependent.
Yes, I'll be getting a bike to reduce those travel times exponentially. I had already purchased one, but it was stolen while I was doing placement exams. And, as my remaining resources are needed to keep me sheltered, fed, and bills paid until work starts, I will have to wait until my financial situation stabilizes before acquiring another one.
Eventually I would like to focus on the pure academia, but as I go through General Education I am going to attempt to maintain full time employment at the same time. Both to cover my expenses and as part to the ongoing research that I'm conducting in regards to Community Development and Support.
Even though I do qualify for financial aid to cover school costs, without an academic institution or program to sign off on the costs, the expenses of the tools and travel for my research are still going be coming largely out of my own pocket. Ethically I, and I think the laws, see it as an misuse of scholarship and grant money unless it is recognized as part of an existing program.
My situation aside, let's look at the issues of a Parent as a Student. Because they have the same difficulties that I do with the added difficulty and cost of finding child care. Also, as a parent, they need to have the ability to be available and present for their child.
My situation aside, let's look at the issues of a Parent as a Student. Because they have the same difficulties that I do with the added difficulty and cost of finding child care. Also, as a parent, they need to have the ability to be available and present for their child.
So here is my outline for a Child Care program that could be adopted by any Secondary Educational program.
1. For an enrolled student offer free child care through the school.
2. For Graduates, offering subsidized or discounted Child Care
3. The child care program being staffed, and primarily, operated by Students.
1. For an enrolled student offer free child care through the school.
2. For Graduates, offering subsidized or discounted Child Care
3. The child care program being staffed, and primarily, operated by Students.
4. Staffing would come from programs training for.
- Education
- Child Care or Child Development
- Nursing
- Emergency Response
- Social and Criminal Justice.
- Library Sciences
- Any student with a major or focus in regards to providing services for youth with an advisory sign off.
5. Students working in the program would receive credit towards their degree.
6. The program could be offered as part of a T.A. or Work Study program to help off set their tuition costs and give students practical work experience for their resume after graduation.
6. The program could be offered as part of a T.A. or Work Study program to help off set their tuition costs and give students practical work experience for their resume after graduation.
7. For Student Parents with children at the k-12 levels, transportation could be provided for the child to get to and from school and the child care program.
8. Medical and Emergency Response students would be able to offer, with proper instruction and oversight, basic check ups, vaccines, and other services relevant to that profession.
9. Offering the program as a 24 hour opportunity would
8. Medical and Emergency Response students would be able to offer, with proper instruction and oversight, basic check ups, vaccines, and other services relevant to that profession.
9. Offering the program as a 24 hour opportunity would
-Give Parent Students that work late or overnight shifts viable, affordable, child care.
- Prepare Nursing and other Public Service Students for the scheduling and other difficulties associated with working 2nd and 3rd shifts.
10. Offering this program to Junior and Senior High School students can
-Create another way to have college credits before entering secondary education
- Give work experience to Students not planning on going into secondary education.
- Create more Student Outreach opportunities.
11. Keeping these programs on or near campus would benefit Student Parents by
-Reducing travel time between work, school, and other necessary errands.
-Offering basic such as check ups would reduce overall healthcare costs for the family.
-Offering basic such as check ups would reduce overall healthcare costs for the family.
-Making responding to a child's needs easier for the child, parent, and the child's caregivers.
- Giving the child role models and mentors for their own academic development.
- Giving the child role models and mentors for their own academic development.
- Giving single parents support they may not normally have.
12. The Program would benefit the Institution by
- Qualifying the Institution for further grants and subsidies
- Creating more educational paths for qualifying students.
- Creating Paying jobs for Child Care professionals, Educators, and Students.
- Creating more pathways from High School to Secondary education.
- Creating professional training opportunities for periphery programs.
12. Other Benefits
- Parent Learners would be able to better focus on their studies.
- Finding and Addressing children's handicaps would be better addressed
- More qualified tutors for young learners in need of extra assistance.
This is, obviously, just a rough outline.
However if professionals and programs took this outline and adjusted it to the needs of their communities while addressing both available infrastructure of the schools and public services, then a viable and arguably, sustainable program could be developed. I feel that this would support a work force ever moving to a twenty four hour schedule and make more successful paths for adult learners to create a better work/life/educational balance for themselves and their families.
Saturday, September 14, 2019
Friday Night
Today was Friday the 13th.
And a full moon.
After the past couple of sleepless nights I've been able to net myself about sixish or so hours of sleep in the last 48. But I was up early today and out running errands to makes sure all of my ducks are in a row for starting class, and hopefully work, this next week.
It was near sundown by the time I made it back to the room, then loaded up my practice gear and went out to the park to get in a decent workout even though I was bone tired and very seriously thought about just crawling into bed and trying to force myself to get some sleep. But, instead I did my usual training montage for about an hour and a half.
On my way back there was a lady. She was in distress and not entirely coherent so I escorted her to the nearest fire station a and the folks in there took care of her. After dropping off all of the practice equipment it was nearing dark. It being such a rare event. Full bright moon on a day so layered with superstition I loaded the light bag up with some first aid gear and a sword and headed out into the night.
I walked through the park, stopping at the castle to wait for Luna to show. Once here light was bright in the sky I headed down the trail and started towards the city center. But, instead of making it to where the bars resided I found the local pool hall. I thought it would have been more busy on a Friday night, but there were a number of open tables.
I stayed and played for a couple of hours. Trying out different trick shots and playing against myself. A couple of the locals came over and asked to play. The first guy said something about it being a "waste of time" under his breath. And the second was trying to gauge my abilities while giving off "Alpha Male Machismo" all the way down to his flaming skull pool cue. Me, playing with no powder for my hands, dead on my feet, and really not caring if I won or not messed with both of them. Leaving my balls blocking pockets or giving my opponent nothing to shoot at.
At just after midnight I headed out. I wanted to stay and play around on the table some more, but I had almost fallen asleep during my second match. So, I turned into a pumpkin and headed out the door.
I passed a club, music pounding inside, and mountainous men standing outside all wearing security t-shirts that stretched over their arms.
I chuckled and continued on.
And a full moon.
After the past couple of sleepless nights I've been able to net myself about sixish or so hours of sleep in the last 48. But I was up early today and out running errands to makes sure all of my ducks are in a row for starting class, and hopefully work, this next week.
It was near sundown by the time I made it back to the room, then loaded up my practice gear and went out to the park to get in a decent workout even though I was bone tired and very seriously thought about just crawling into bed and trying to force myself to get some sleep. But, instead I did my usual training montage for about an hour and a half.
On my way back there was a lady. She was in distress and not entirely coherent so I escorted her to the nearest fire station a and the folks in there took care of her. After dropping off all of the practice equipment it was nearing dark. It being such a rare event. Full bright moon on a day so layered with superstition I loaded the light bag up with some first aid gear and a sword and headed out into the night.
I walked through the park, stopping at the castle to wait for Luna to show. Once here light was bright in the sky I headed down the trail and started towards the city center. But, instead of making it to where the bars resided I found the local pool hall. I thought it would have been more busy on a Friday night, but there were a number of open tables.
I stayed and played for a couple of hours. Trying out different trick shots and playing against myself. A couple of the locals came over and asked to play. The first guy said something about it being a "waste of time" under his breath. And the second was trying to gauge my abilities while giving off "Alpha Male Machismo" all the way down to his flaming skull pool cue. Me, playing with no powder for my hands, dead on my feet, and really not caring if I won or not messed with both of them. Leaving my balls blocking pockets or giving my opponent nothing to shoot at.
At just after midnight I headed out. I wanted to stay and play around on the table some more, but I had almost fallen asleep during my second match. So, I turned into a pumpkin and headed out the door.
I passed a club, music pounding inside, and mountainous men standing outside all wearing security t-shirts that stretched over their arms.
I chuckled and continued on.
Wednesday, September 11, 2019
18 Years Later
Being woke by a phone call from a bill collector on today of all days.
Jesus.
I had honestly hoped to avoid going out into the world today and focusing on school paperwork and maybe playing a few of the silly hidden object games I down loaded before falling asleep last night.
They got married about fifteen years ago.
I ended up leaving that airline a little while later.
Happy 18th Anniversary.
Jesus.
I had honestly hoped to avoid going out into the world today and focusing on school paperwork and maybe playing a few of the silly hidden object games I down loaded before falling asleep last night.
But no, apparently there is still a balance with the power company. One that I had not received any form of notification about until today.
Reminds me of those days.
The house phone only ringing mostly because of my roommate at the time having forgotten to pay this bill or that bill because he rarely actually stayed at the apartment.
Reminds me of those days.
The house phone only ringing mostly because of my roommate at the time having forgotten to pay this bill or that bill because he rarely actually stayed at the apartment.
Always at his girlfriends house.
They got married about fifteen years ago.
And he came to my wedding a few years back.
After that we haven't really kept in touch.
Hell, I'm not really good about keeping in touch with anyone.
Regularly clearing my contacts list and unfriending people on social media when I change jobs haven't heard from a person for several months or years.
Hell, I'm not really good about keeping in touch with anyone.
Regularly clearing my contacts list and unfriending people on social media when I change jobs haven't heard from a person for several months or years.
An old habit from when I first got a Cell Phone that I still haven't shaken.
Even after all this time.
Hell I stopped keeping a "little black book" for the same reason.
I didn't want the people I was hunting to dig up anyone that I cared about.
But that's a different story.
I didn't want the people I was hunting to dig up anyone that I cared about.
But that's a different story.
A different set of traumas.
I can still remember groggily sitting up on the couch to the sound of the phone ringing.
I can't remember if it was the futon or the blue and white frilly skirted affair that my girlfriend at the time had brought over. I think the futon because I seem to remember my knees being up in front of me when I sat back down.
I can't remember if it was the futon or the blue and white frilly skirted affair that my girlfriend at the time had brought over. I think the futon because I seem to remember my knees being up in front of me when I sat back down.
I can't remember if I had worked the night before or not. I worked evenings that often turned into early mornings. Regardless of working. I had stayed up until sun rise playing video games as I usually did. Grinding my way through whatever JRPG had my attention.
Either Final Fantasy IX, Fantasy Star Online, or a replay of Chrono Cross considering the time frame. Then I would offset the JRPG grinds with white knuckled time challenges in what ever the current Need For Speed game was.
~
House Keeping just knocked on the door of my room. I haven't heard from them in a couple of days and didn't expect that. I fought back tears as I passed my trash out the door and grabbed the dirty towels and traded them for fresh ones.
The tears are still flowing.
The tears are still flowing.
~
But I remember going to my bedroom grabbing the phone.
"Hello". I mumbled into the receiver while checking the caller I.D.
"Hello". I mumbled into the receiver while checking the caller I.D.
"Hey, it's me. Have you seen the news?" My roommate asked in a tight voice. Not a tone I was used to hearing from him at the time.
"No, why?" I asked dragging the phone line back out into the living room and picking up the remote.
"Just turn it on."
The T.V. blinked to life in the bright morning light.
"No, why?" I asked dragging the phone line back out into the living room and picking up the remote.
"Just turn it on."
The T.V. blinked to life in the bright morning light.
We were bachelors so the only form of curtains we had were the mini blinds that seem to come standard in apartments the world over. Their slats stained yellow from years of young chain smoking airline employees cycling in and out.
I didn't hear what the news readers were saying. My eyes still bleary with sleep didn't read whatever title the news was giving the moment. But I saw, as they replayed the second plane striking.
"Holy shit." I said in a quite voice.
"Yeah." We sat in silence for a moment while the talking heads gave commentary and showed footage from different angles.
"See you at work?"
"Make sure you call your family and tell them you're okay before you leave."
"Yeah, I will."
"Don't wear your uniform."
"Yeah, okay. I'll be there in about a half an hour."
I peeled myself out of the clothes I had fallen asleep in and put on a fresh set of clothes not even bothering to shower.
I didn't hear what the news readers were saying. My eyes still bleary with sleep didn't read whatever title the news was giving the moment. But I saw, as they replayed the second plane striking.
"Holy shit." I said in a quite voice.
"Yeah." We sat in silence for a moment while the talking heads gave commentary and showed footage from different angles.
"See you at work?"
"Make sure you call your family and tell them you're okay before you leave."
"Yeah, I will."
"Don't wear your uniform."
"Yeah, okay. I'll be there in about a half an hour."
I peeled myself out of the clothes I had fallen asleep in and put on a fresh set of clothes not even bothering to shower.
A call to my parents while I changed.
My mom picked .
"Did you see the news?"
"Yeah, is everything okay where you are?"
"I don't know, but I'm headed to work."
"I love you."
"Love you too."
~
Writing about it helps. The tears are dry now, just the feeling of morning hunger and the same quiet acceptance I driving into work that morning.
~
"Did you see the news?"
"Yeah, is everything okay where you are?"
"I don't know, but I'm headed to work."
"I love you."
"Love you too."
~
Writing about it helps. The tears are dry now, just the feeling of morning hunger and the same quiet acceptance I driving into work that morning.
~
After that, the drive to work and the employee bus to the terminal don't register beyond knowing that they had to have happened because I made it to work.
Walking through the terminal in my civilian clothes with my badge around my neck seemed so weird. The T.V.s were off, there were no announcements being made. Just massive amounts of travelers sitting everywhere there was space on the floors, every seat in the waiting areas full. The halls, full but still space to maneuver. The gate agents and ticket counter workers interspersed throughout the mass of luggage and people passing out soda and snacks as they repeated the mantra. "You'll know more as soon as we do."
I caught site of one of the topside supervisors heading the same direction I was along with a one of my supervisors. I moved up next to them. "Where do you need me?" I asked as they, like everyone else wore their masks of professionalism in the face of a scared sea of humanity.
"Check in at Ops and see what they need." He said.
The three of us headed down, the Topside supervisor peeling off to find a place to smoke and probably quietly cry as we entered the office.
It was all hands on deck.
Walking through the terminal in my civilian clothes with my badge around my neck seemed so weird. The T.V.s were off, there were no announcements being made. Just massive amounts of travelers sitting everywhere there was space on the floors, every seat in the waiting areas full. The halls, full but still space to maneuver. The gate agents and ticket counter workers interspersed throughout the mass of luggage and people passing out soda and snacks as they repeated the mantra. "You'll know more as soon as we do."
I caught site of one of the topside supervisors heading the same direction I was along with a one of my supervisors. I moved up next to them. "Where do you need me?" I asked as they, like everyone else wore their masks of professionalism in the face of a scared sea of humanity.
"Check in at Ops and see what they need." He said.
The three of us headed down, the Topside supervisor peeling off to find a place to smoke and probably quietly cry as we entered the office.
It was all hands on deck.
A sight rarely seen save for shift changes during winter storms. And even then there was usually one or two people that couldn't make it in because of snow or ice.
But it was quiet.
The radio, at this time of day, usually playing classic rock or country music. The sounds of calculators and computer keyboards that usually made a rhythm under the phones ringing and usual banter between Ops agents, Refulers, Ramp Agents, and the odd grumpy mechanic gone. The only sound was a t.v. that had been brought in and set up at the data entry station in the center of the room. It's black square at odds with the cream of the t.v. monitors.
Like the t.v. at the apartment, that I do not honestly remember turning off as I pulled myself together and headed out the door, it was just a drone of speculation, replayed footage of the impacts. And, as the day continued, various scenes of the rescue operations.
I poked my head into the nerve center of Ops. Where all the radios were piped through. ATC, ground to Air, the topside and ramp-side channels, the phones, the screens that updated flight status, the computer with the flight data.
Our best was sitting in that seat. He always looked frazzled, but when he was in the seat things, even at their most hectic, were some how kept magically in order. The other supervisors and a couple of the more senior Ops agents cycling through in the backup seat answering calls and checking flight info for baggage and passenger updates.
I waited for a lull in the chaos and asked the man in the seat where he needed me. He turned and looked at me very quietly, very calmly. Everyone in the rooms attention on him since he was the one that all of the info was flowing through.
Like the t.v. at the apartment, that I do not honestly remember turning off as I pulled myself together and headed out the door, it was just a drone of speculation, replayed footage of the impacts. And, as the day continued, various scenes of the rescue operations.
I poked my head into the nerve center of Ops. Where all the radios were piped through. ATC, ground to Air, the topside and ramp-side channels, the phones, the screens that updated flight status, the computer with the flight data.
Our best was sitting in that seat. He always looked frazzled, but when he was in the seat things, even at their most hectic, were some how kept magically in order. The other supervisors and a couple of the more senior Ops agents cycling through in the backup seat answering calls and checking flight info for baggage and passenger updates.
I waited for a lull in the chaos and asked the man in the seat where he needed me. He turned and looked at me very quietly, very calmly. Everyone in the rooms attention on him since he was the one that all of the info was flowing through.
"We're missing a plane."
"Which one?" I asked in quiet response.
His eyes broke from mine and he turned to the supervisor that had entered with me.
He gave the room the details.
After that he took a break, the Supervisor I had just come in with taking over in the seat.
After talking with the various other agents and finding out that most of the planes were already on the ground or had never taken off I headed upstairs to help as best as I could. Answering questions the best that I could, seeing if the people upstairs needed a break or a hand. All of us doing our best to keep each other together and the passengers calm.
"Which one?" I asked in quiet response.
His eyes broke from mine and he turned to the supervisor that had entered with me.
He gave the room the details.
After that he took a break, the Supervisor I had just come in with taking over in the seat.
After talking with the various other agents and finding out that most of the planes were already on the ground or had never taken off I headed upstairs to help as best as I could. Answering questions the best that I could, seeing if the people upstairs needed a break or a hand. All of us doing our best to keep each other together and the passengers calm.
Luckily the missing plane was one of the many made to land at an airport in rout as military jets scoured the skys for rogue aircraft. We only found out because one of the pilots had called into personel to see if they were being compensated for the unscheduled layover.
The next few days were a blur of chain smoking cigarettes, forgetting to eat, and falling into exhausted sleep at the end of long emotional days. The only thing to do while the planes were grounded was wander around, do the flight checks, make sure that people had what they neededthen arrange ground transportation for the closer destinations and accommodations for those that had been trying to head east.
After the planes went back up into the air the next few months were fueled by speculation and paranoia. For the Ops agents and Supervisors who had those three lovely letters under their job description : G.S.C., Ground Security Coordinator, it was constant doubles and months of pushing the Union Contract almost to the point of breaking for consecutive days worked and down time between shifts.
As the G.S.C. it was our jobs, to do our regular duties and also to man the security check points to make sure all of the constantly shifting rules and regulations were being adhered to. Being the brunt of the public backlash as scared and angry passengers questioned the need for it.
The next few days were a blur of chain smoking cigarettes, forgetting to eat, and falling into exhausted sleep at the end of long emotional days. The only thing to do while the planes were grounded was wander around, do the flight checks, make sure that people had what they neededthen arrange ground transportation for the closer destinations and accommodations for those that had been trying to head east.
After the planes went back up into the air the next few months were fueled by speculation and paranoia. For the Ops agents and Supervisors who had those three lovely letters under their job description : G.S.C., Ground Security Coordinator, it was constant doubles and months of pushing the Union Contract almost to the point of breaking for consecutive days worked and down time between shifts.
As the G.S.C. it was our jobs, to do our regular duties and also to man the security check points to make sure all of the constantly shifting rules and regulations were being adhered to. Being the brunt of the public backlash as scared and angry passengers questioned the need for it.
White passengers trying to point at brown passengers and whisper conspiratorially.
Often trying to divert lynch mobs from trying to break out right in the boarding areas. Not to mention the business travelers trying to pretend they were exempt from such scrutiny. My quip, often swallowed was, have you been to Ireland recently? And me, being a kid trying to keep the peace, often gave the self righteous pricks and scarred adults a target they thought they could yell at. A little punching bag they felt safe unloading on. I was usually polite and cried as I filled my lungs with smoke almost daily.
Often trying to divert lynch mobs from trying to break out right in the boarding areas. Not to mention the business travelers trying to pretend they were exempt from such scrutiny. My quip, often swallowed was, have you been to Ireland recently? And me, being a kid trying to keep the peace, often gave the self righteous pricks and scarred adults a target they thought they could yell at. A little punching bag they felt safe unloading on. I was usually polite and cried as I filled my lungs with smoke almost daily.
I ended up leaving that airline a little while later.
Partly because of the stress and strain of being both the person with the least seniority which meant constantly getting a brunt of the mandatory shifts and having little to no control over the "voluntary shifts" I signed up for in order to maintain some semblance of time off. Then couple that with the "good ol'boys" culture that was prevalent in the station at the time.
Being queer, viewed as a privileged child who hadn't earned their spot in the ops department, and being someone that actually took the time to study the organizations, conflicts, and decision makers behind the terrorist attacks I was slowly derided and bullied out for my views, my age, and my questions. As the Iraq war started and my friends mobilized I fell into a spiral of exhaustion and depression that I couldn't seem to pull myself out of.
One through line that was prevalent through out all of it was that "drugs funded the war on terror." And I took the bait hook line and sinker. I tried to trace the thread at home.
After I left the airline and the person I thought was my partner decided to move on I returned to my home town. My parents letting me stay with them while I pulled myself together. I sought out help from local mental health professionals. Though their answer was to prescribe me antidepressants that left my mind hazy and unable to focus. And, not feeling like I could turn to anyone for any legal help I ended up working for my dad.
Someone that didn't understand or know what was going on and who our personalities and viewpoints clashed like water trying to put out a grease fire.
So I turned to other family members that I thought were more, liberal? I guess. And found what the propaganda of the time told me was "funding the war on terror." So I went in and insinuated myself into the culture and reveled in the fact that not only was I able to keep helping, but I was finding the same issues that plagued my work place before I had left it.
I can only imagine what the local L.E.Os thought when I hauled my ass in, half starved and doped to the gills with whatever crap it was they had laced the pot with....but again.
After I left the airline and the person I thought was my partner decided to move on I returned to my home town. My parents letting me stay with them while I pulled myself together. I sought out help from local mental health professionals. Though their answer was to prescribe me antidepressants that left my mind hazy and unable to focus. And, not feeling like I could turn to anyone for any legal help I ended up working for my dad.
Someone that didn't understand or know what was going on and who our personalities and viewpoints clashed like water trying to put out a grease fire.
So I turned to other family members that I thought were more, liberal? I guess. And found what the propaganda of the time told me was "funding the war on terror." So I went in and insinuated myself into the culture and reveled in the fact that not only was I able to keep helping, but I was finding the same issues that plagued my work place before I had left it.
I can only imagine what the local L.E.Os thought when I hauled my ass in, half starved and doped to the gills with whatever crap it was they had laced the pot with....but again.
A story for another time.
Anyways.
Anyways.
~
The tears dried shortly after I started writing again.
I might go out and get some lunch before coming back and working on the school paperwork.
Maybe even give my pride a rest and apply for government assistance, but I think that blow will need to wait until tomorrow.
I have food here but a little sunshine and stretching my legs will help, hopefully, shake the rest of the funk I woke up in.
I have food here but a little sunshine and stretching my legs will help, hopefully, shake the rest of the funk I woke up in.
Plus, not having a microwave or a fridge and working with a very limited budget, that as I was woke and informed this morning is even more limited than I thought, my food options are relegated to tinned meats and fruits and what ever grab and go's the local markets have.
Happy 18th Anniversary.
Sunday, September 8, 2019
My Hero Ron
I just finished watching The BlacKkKlansman.
An excellent movie and at the end you saw everything I cautioned about during the 2016 election cycle.
So here's the down and dirty truth of it.
The reason I do what I do, am the way that I am, don't trust the way that I should, and am often silent when I should be yelling.
The Last Wizard.
Dragon Jack.
Where did these names come from?
When I was a child I was raised by and around people that held the ideals of the Klan.
Family.
Friends of the Family.
Luckily, not my Parents.
Though their humor crude and often laughing along with the "jokes" I could say that by their actions and who they chose to spend their own time with that they proved to be removed from much of that thinking.
Not all, they were after all, products of thier place and time.
But they placed the worth of an individual on their work ethic and contributions rather than the color of their skin or sexual orientation.
In other writings I've eluded to the people in my life that I thought were involved in these groups.
Held friends and co-workers at arms length trying to discover their true intentions because of this past.
But why "The Last Wizard"
Why "Dragon Jack?"
When I was a young adult first entering into the work force as an "independant" young person I was afforded an oppertunity at an airline that preached LUV as their motto.
What I discovered was much of the ingrained racisism and sexism in their very dress code. In the way that the Union was structured at the time.
And, lest I not forget, the way that many of my co-workers were treated.
All of this made me angry and bitter.
"Don't play dominos with those people."
"Don't date here"
"Your hair is to long."
"Take your ear ring out"
"Here's a fork, Eat Like an American"
Were all things said to me by Union Members.
So I Ieft that Airline and Chose to seek out other, less prestigous, employment. I began digging into myself as a human being. Into what beliefs and creeds made the core of who I was.
Reflecting as I did so on who I and those around me really were.
My car was a safe ride to and from work.
And for that reason I had a pick.
A metal toothed.
Raised Fist.
Black.
Pick.
Not purchased, but left in the passenger door by a coworker.
After that I kept it in the CD case that I kept in the car.
Not that CD cases are a thing to keep anymore, but at the time they were a thing to steal and mine was stolen.
But that, in retrospect was serandipitious.
Because it allowed me to follow the clues after returning home.
Alowed me to find out who was in "Top City"
I kept my shit together, mostly, until the kids were over one afternoon.
After that I couldn't do it anymore. Couldn't keep my shit together to keep digging.
Fastforward a few years and I find myself moving to the west coast.
A place, that by reputation of those that I had obseved, "befriended" and ultimatly held to account, was a place full of "Niggers, Spics, Kikes, Dikes, and Faggots."
Sounded like a lovely place to live to me.
At least I wouldn't have to "be friends" or "be sociable" with those I didn't want to be around. The people that, when out of public eye or earshot, would degrade my friends and peers.
That's the thing about television and reputation though.
Sure, maybe the larger cities and Southern California have a basis for Such a Reputation. Maybe Portland and Seattle have more diverse communities than that of the surrounding areas.
But, as I discovered after moving out here that north of Sacramento was very similar in demographic, ideology, and laws on the books to that of the "Middle America" that I grew up in.
That the West, as the Media and Ignorant of my home would lead me to believe, was not so "Liberal Elite" as one would think.
Yes, over the interveining decade that I have been here the demographics have started to change a little. And yes, there are pockets of "Liberal Resistance".
Or as resistant as nonviolent individuals can be in a place where guns are carried to the grocery store and everywhere in between.
I am not saying that guns should be outlawed, hell, if you actually watched my video on Gun Control you would know that my ideas lend themselves in the very opposite direction.
But at the end of it I still find myself fighting the same fights, having the same debates, with people that have the same ideologies I was trying to get away from.
It's funny, in one work situation while I've been out here there was a young man who was boasting about being part of, or associated with, the "Klan". Not being threatening about it, but letting another co-worker of color know that was "his people" and my eye twitched.
This is America and everyone is entitled to thier opinioin and beliefs, but after hearing it coming from someone bairly out of high school I knew that there was still a long way to go before things are going to truly get bettter.
After hearing about the actions of some of the kids at a local highschool I knew that there was still a long fight ahead.
So again you ask.
Why "The Last Wizard"
Well, the easy part is that I am a role player. A person that regularly inhabits the lives and stories of people in situations removed from my own. Often, but not exclusivly, in the lands of Wizards, Dwarves, and Elves.
The hard part of that answer is because I want to see "The Last Wizard" I Want to see the power that these supremisicst exert so heavily over this nation put into check and the Democracy that we, as a nation, are so wanton to spread over the rest of the world become truly representative of the people that inhabit it.
I would like to see them recogonized as the threat that they are.
Like to see them recognized and held accountable the way that other terrorist orgonizations are.
After all, when you legitimatly look at all of the terrorist actions perpitrated on American Soil since 2001 and even before, you will see that the White Supremicist influence is on far more of them than that of "Radical Islamists" or the "Invading Immigrants."
No, from this researchers observations and findings, it is the influence of White Supermacy that has caused far more:
the human and civil rights violations perpitrated on American Soil and in the various wars that we have fought in.
That the production and distribution of meth and opioids is largely a product of White Nationlists trying to fund their war.
The escelations of peceful protests to that of violence.
And lest us not forget: The large majority mass shootings.
So, that is why "the Last Wizard"
Now why "Dragon Jack?"
Dragon : Because I breath fire.
Fire in the form of Truth.
A fire that I want to see spread around the world to ignite the hearths of a more just and peaceful future.
I seek the truth, I learn the truth, I spread the truth.
And if what I belive to be facts are found to be wrong I reevaluate, reexamine, and seek out experts to find out both why what I believed was wrong and what the actual truth is.
Also, I sometimes forget to brush my teeth when I'm distracted by research.
Shout out to Mr. Waterson!
But mostly the truth.
Why : Jack?
Jack of All Trades,
Master of None.
I learn a little of everything, so that when I find myself in a new setting or a new situation I will be able to bring a new perspective to it.
Will be able to expand the bounds of my knowledge and understanding.
So there you go.
Ron, if you're still out there, know that there are some of us still out here trying to find them.
Trying to thwart them.
Know that some of us even used our real names because, we to, were eager rookies to caught up in the moment to think of another name.
Power to all of the People.
And as always.
Stay safe out there.
Saturday, September 7, 2019
Saturday
Today was a day.
I woke early to take the placement exam at the local community college to see what general education level I am realistically at academically after having graduated high school nearly 20 years ago now.
People have been watching me since I got back in the valley. Not sure the who's what's and why's of all of it. But the result was me locking my bike, going into the main building to find out where I needed to go for the placement testing, and then walking out again less than five minutes later to see a guy riding off on my bike.
I tried to track him, but the by the time my brain caught up to the fact that it was indeed my bike the dude was riding off on I'd already lost sight of him and missed the direction he took. I tried tracking him, but at the end of it I couldn't run the blocks the way I needed to to follow because of this damned cracked rib.
Yeah, it's cracked.
I really don't fuggin know how it happened either. And that's the part that bugs the shit out of me. I don't remember getting hit or falling in a manner that would have caused it.
Regardless, it's been a week now, and the damned thing still hurts when I breath. Which has made my training go a lot slower, my mobility more trying, and my over all bullshit tolerance much less.
That's why I bought the bike. So that I would be able to get to and from work with little stress to the cracked rib and have energy enough to go between work/school/and maybe other work if I can pull something together.
And yes, I want to run out and replace the bike right now, but the budget is so tight it's getting to the point of being the difference between days instead of weeks, and though I did get the job I interviewed for it's still only offering minimum wage and just shy of full time hours which means the budget is going to stay on a razors edge until I can find something that pays a little better or I can get a grant to fund my work and research.
I might look like I have money, but aside from two month old shoes that I've nearly chewed through during my training the clothes and things I wear are from the clearance rack, the thrift shop, or I've had almost as long as I've been out of high school.
I take try to take care of myself and my belongings, make them last and survive. I invest in the things that I purchase. Trying to find the most cost efficient version of an item while taking into regards its sustainability.
It's part of my economics research.
Yes, I am hard on both because I work and play hard but at the end of it I'm still someone that shops cheap and only buys the expensive things when I think they'll legitimately survive the hardships that my body and belongings tend to go through between work, training, and the very rare days I give myself to relax.
Regardless, after the bike being stolen I was supposed to have an interview with a person about a more permanent place to stay later in the afternoon. However, as I was on the bus heading that direction I got a call from the person that was looking into the missing bike and asking about paperwork on it. I had, of course, taken the paperwork to the storage unit and filed it with the rest of the instruction manuals and documentation for my various tools and work equipment already. So, hoping that some sort of justice might be served, I got off at the next stop. But, being Saturday and buses running sparsely I quick walked as fast as my rib would allow me to the storage unit to check the paper work.
Of course the information needed was supposed to have been filled out by hand rather than being in the manual already, so the trip wasted, I quick marched as fast as I could back to the bus station to try and catch the bus, again, to make it to the appointment on time.
I met a man in his late 60's trying to get to the hospital for heart medication but in a similar living and mobility situation as my own. I wanted to offer to get him a room for the night since the shelter wasn't taking in people for beds until Monday. But, with the budget stretched as thin as it is and my trust issues being what they are, I listened politely and offered a few suggestions for making his mobility easier while racking my brain to remember if there were any other shelter options aside from the local mission. Partly for him, and partly because if I misstep on my budget again I'll be in the same situation very shortly.
I stood at the entrance of the bus and watched one of the bus employees telling an upset woman that she couldn't bring her stroller and laundry onto the bus.
Ribs hurting, anger boiling at the events of the morning, half asleep from my body being boomeranged between West Coast time and trying to prepare it for a newly acquired overnights position, while the realization that I was going to be late for the meeting hanging over me like a dark little rain cloud. I threw up my hands and walked the half hour back to the hotel to work on financial paperwork for school and try to get some semblance of forward momentum back into my day.
My inconsiderate ass, to tied up in my own bullshit to text the person I was supposed to be meeting with, received a message shortly after I got back to the room. Luckily they were polite enough to reschedule for Monday but I still felt like an absolute ass hat.
I could have met with them Sunday before the bike was stolen. Not to mention that the buses do not run on Sundays here.
For some reason the local powers that be think that people don't need to get to work and conduct business on Sundays. That would equate a roughly four hour hard march each direction.
All in an effort to both interview and be interviewed by a potential roommate. Which if my rib were not busted, I would do just out of spite to the asshole that made the decision to prevent those without a car from being able to have the dignity of mobility one day of the week. And if it weren't for an interview of sorts I would do it for the fun of it after assembling the proper gear and supplies.
Then, as I was nearing the end of the paper work, the FASFA started asking for tax return information. Which, of course, I have filed neatly away but is either in the storage unit or with an ex-wife who isn't talking to me right now. An hours hard walk away and to late in the day to make it back to the unit and have time to check before they closed the gates for the night I fell into an exhausted sleep while listening to the news.
And that's where I am now, woke by someone playing a harmonica and the overly loud conversations of people outside my hotel room.
Which, yes, I want to complain, but there's something strangely comforting in hearing a practicing musician.
But I'm awake now.
Between the pain in the rib preventing me from working myself hard enough to fall into anything resembling a restful slumber and waking me periodically when I roll into the wrong position. And trying to readjust to this dry heat that steals my energy much faster than the more humid climates. I still feel exhausted and need to focus on re hydration if I'm going to work and go to school without a car.
This past week has reminded me however, why I ran so hard to get away from this area to begin with. Tried to relocate, unsuccessfully, in my own weird way.
But also why I came back.
When I first visited this area something called to me. When I had my quite little library job, biking to and fro, and writing/telling stories about fantastical realms I was at peace.
I came back to see if I could find that peace again, try to reconnect with the people that I respect and hope to craft something of a future for this valley that helped my mind heal and rediscover my purpose in life.
But the thing I'm slowly rediscovering about this place is that the peaceful places I remembered are haunted by memories or I don't feel like I belong any more. Outside of being much more friendly to a person who prefers to travel by foot and rail, the reason I think the east coast made me feel so much more energetic was because of all of the different languages, races, and religions that I would observe in the matter of a few blocks.
That and the majority of the west coast and middle America, is a sprawling and unfriendly place to those without a motor vehicle. Not to mention being much more dangerous to the, the LGBTQ+, immigrant communities, public servants, and their allies.
But, honestly, that is much of why I came back here rather than taking my family up on their offer. Aside from the past traumas that often bubble to the surface when I see or visit them for too long.
Why take the easy road when I could forge new paths and help heal a community that I've grown to love?
Though my cover as a "sis white male" was blown a long time ago, my defiance in defense of those I feel are being unjustly treated out in the open, and the open fraternization with Law Enforcement in an effort to keep people safe never a secret I continue to try. Continue to work towards something that could be better for everyone.
Just please remember: Be you a gang member openly wearing your colors, someone with a badge on your chest, or just a hard working son of a bitch out to try to feed yourself. I offer nothing but respect to the pride in you beliefs even if I may not agree with them.
Though I do give you these warnings, no matter who you are:
Do not Endanger the Children and Keep your Poisons to Yourself.
I don't bark often, outside of trash on the ground and my own aches and pains, but those two things will get me calling for backup lickity fuckin' split.
And if I seem a little jumpy when I see your gun, blade, pup, or whatever choice of self protection you're carrying.
Don't take offense.
I've had people come at me from all sides and have failed to dodge those weapons on more than one occasion.
But if it is an emergency.
If there's a fire, flood, or some other disaster.
If you're hurt.
If you need help and I'm in earshot.
If I have the resources to help you.
I'll do my best.
And if can't or don't have the resources.
At the very least.
I'll point you in the right direction.
Or call someone that can help.
I will never stop being me.
I will never stop working to create peace between the communities no matter how impossible peace seems.
Just don't mind my salt and I won't mind yours.
Stay safe out there.
I woke early to take the placement exam at the local community college to see what general education level I am realistically at academically after having graduated high school nearly 20 years ago now.
People have been watching me since I got back in the valley. Not sure the who's what's and why's of all of it. But the result was me locking my bike, going into the main building to find out where I needed to go for the placement testing, and then walking out again less than five minutes later to see a guy riding off on my bike.
I tried to track him, but the by the time my brain caught up to the fact that it was indeed my bike the dude was riding off on I'd already lost sight of him and missed the direction he took. I tried tracking him, but at the end of it I couldn't run the blocks the way I needed to to follow because of this damned cracked rib.
Yeah, it's cracked.
I really don't fuggin know how it happened either. And that's the part that bugs the shit out of me. I don't remember getting hit or falling in a manner that would have caused it.
Regardless, it's been a week now, and the damned thing still hurts when I breath. Which has made my training go a lot slower, my mobility more trying, and my over all bullshit tolerance much less.
That's why I bought the bike. So that I would be able to get to and from work with little stress to the cracked rib and have energy enough to go between work/school/and maybe other work if I can pull something together.
And yes, I want to run out and replace the bike right now, but the budget is so tight it's getting to the point of being the difference between days instead of weeks, and though I did get the job I interviewed for it's still only offering minimum wage and just shy of full time hours which means the budget is going to stay on a razors edge until I can find something that pays a little better or I can get a grant to fund my work and research.
I might look like I have money, but aside from two month old shoes that I've nearly chewed through during my training the clothes and things I wear are from the clearance rack, the thrift shop, or I've had almost as long as I've been out of high school.
I take try to take care of myself and my belongings, make them last and survive. I invest in the things that I purchase. Trying to find the most cost efficient version of an item while taking into regards its sustainability.
It's part of my economics research.
Yes, I am hard on both because I work and play hard but at the end of it I'm still someone that shops cheap and only buys the expensive things when I think they'll legitimately survive the hardships that my body and belongings tend to go through between work, training, and the very rare days I give myself to relax.
Regardless, after the bike being stolen I was supposed to have an interview with a person about a more permanent place to stay later in the afternoon. However, as I was on the bus heading that direction I got a call from the person that was looking into the missing bike and asking about paperwork on it. I had, of course, taken the paperwork to the storage unit and filed it with the rest of the instruction manuals and documentation for my various tools and work equipment already. So, hoping that some sort of justice might be served, I got off at the next stop. But, being Saturday and buses running sparsely I quick walked as fast as my rib would allow me to the storage unit to check the paper work.
Of course the information needed was supposed to have been filled out by hand rather than being in the manual already, so the trip wasted, I quick marched as fast as I could back to the bus station to try and catch the bus, again, to make it to the appointment on time.
I met a man in his late 60's trying to get to the hospital for heart medication but in a similar living and mobility situation as my own. I wanted to offer to get him a room for the night since the shelter wasn't taking in people for beds until Monday. But, with the budget stretched as thin as it is and my trust issues being what they are, I listened politely and offered a few suggestions for making his mobility easier while racking my brain to remember if there were any other shelter options aside from the local mission. Partly for him, and partly because if I misstep on my budget again I'll be in the same situation very shortly.
I stood at the entrance of the bus and watched one of the bus employees telling an upset woman that she couldn't bring her stroller and laundry onto the bus.
Ribs hurting, anger boiling at the events of the morning, half asleep from my body being boomeranged between West Coast time and trying to prepare it for a newly acquired overnights position, while the realization that I was going to be late for the meeting hanging over me like a dark little rain cloud. I threw up my hands and walked the half hour back to the hotel to work on financial paperwork for school and try to get some semblance of forward momentum back into my day.
My inconsiderate ass, to tied up in my own bullshit to text the person I was supposed to be meeting with, received a message shortly after I got back to the room. Luckily they were polite enough to reschedule for Monday but I still felt like an absolute ass hat.
I could have met with them Sunday before the bike was stolen. Not to mention that the buses do not run on Sundays here.
For some reason the local powers that be think that people don't need to get to work and conduct business on Sundays. That would equate a roughly four hour hard march each direction.
All in an effort to both interview and be interviewed by a potential roommate. Which if my rib were not busted, I would do just out of spite to the asshole that made the decision to prevent those without a car from being able to have the dignity of mobility one day of the week. And if it weren't for an interview of sorts I would do it for the fun of it after assembling the proper gear and supplies.
Then, as I was nearing the end of the paper work, the FASFA started asking for tax return information. Which, of course, I have filed neatly away but is either in the storage unit or with an ex-wife who isn't talking to me right now. An hours hard walk away and to late in the day to make it back to the unit and have time to check before they closed the gates for the night I fell into an exhausted sleep while listening to the news.
And that's where I am now, woke by someone playing a harmonica and the overly loud conversations of people outside my hotel room.
Which, yes, I want to complain, but there's something strangely comforting in hearing a practicing musician.
But I'm awake now.
Between the pain in the rib preventing me from working myself hard enough to fall into anything resembling a restful slumber and waking me periodically when I roll into the wrong position. And trying to readjust to this dry heat that steals my energy much faster than the more humid climates. I still feel exhausted and need to focus on re hydration if I'm going to work and go to school without a car.
This past week has reminded me however, why I ran so hard to get away from this area to begin with. Tried to relocate, unsuccessfully, in my own weird way.
But also why I came back.
When I first visited this area something called to me. When I had my quite little library job, biking to and fro, and writing/telling stories about fantastical realms I was at peace.
I came back to see if I could find that peace again, try to reconnect with the people that I respect and hope to craft something of a future for this valley that helped my mind heal and rediscover my purpose in life.
But the thing I'm slowly rediscovering about this place is that the peaceful places I remembered are haunted by memories or I don't feel like I belong any more. Outside of being much more friendly to a person who prefers to travel by foot and rail, the reason I think the east coast made me feel so much more energetic was because of all of the different languages, races, and religions that I would observe in the matter of a few blocks.
That and the majority of the west coast and middle America, is a sprawling and unfriendly place to those without a motor vehicle. Not to mention being much more dangerous to the, the LGBTQ+, immigrant communities, public servants, and their allies.
But, honestly, that is much of why I came back here rather than taking my family up on their offer. Aside from the past traumas that often bubble to the surface when I see or visit them for too long.
Why take the easy road when I could forge new paths and help heal a community that I've grown to love?
Though my cover as a "sis white male" was blown a long time ago, my defiance in defense of those I feel are being unjustly treated out in the open, and the open fraternization with Law Enforcement in an effort to keep people safe never a secret I continue to try. Continue to work towards something that could be better for everyone.
Just please remember: Be you a gang member openly wearing your colors, someone with a badge on your chest, or just a hard working son of a bitch out to try to feed yourself. I offer nothing but respect to the pride in you beliefs even if I may not agree with them.
Though I do give you these warnings, no matter who you are:
Do not Endanger the Children and Keep your Poisons to Yourself.
I don't bark often, outside of trash on the ground and my own aches and pains, but those two things will get me calling for backup lickity fuckin' split.
And if I seem a little jumpy when I see your gun, blade, pup, or whatever choice of self protection you're carrying.
Don't take offense.
I've had people come at me from all sides and have failed to dodge those weapons on more than one occasion.
But if it is an emergency.
If there's a fire, flood, or some other disaster.
If you're hurt.
If you need help and I'm in earshot.
If I have the resources to help you.
I'll do my best.
And if can't or don't have the resources.
At the very least.
I'll point you in the right direction.
Or call someone that can help.
I will never stop being me.
I will never stop working to create peace between the communities no matter how impossible peace seems.
Just don't mind my salt and I won't mind yours.
Stay safe out there.
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