The Helmet Project site details the various football helmets of all sorts of college and professional football teams, including (as the image to the right would suggest) the USFL! It also has some leagues that I had even forgotten existed, such as the international leagues (World Football League and World League of American Football turn NFL - Europe). It also had leagues that I wasn't aware of (two Arena Football leagues?) and some that I'm certain we'll all forget of and our kids will have never heard of (ahem, XFL).
What's particularly impressive is their college football team catalogue, including just about every conference (including I-AA ones such as Southland and some Division II and III as well). The scope of this web site, with not only their current helmets but their past ones too, is enormously impressive.
On another note, this column follows where all the NFL teams that have come and gone since the starting of the NFL.
And lastly, this site has a history of the ill-fated United States Football League, guest-starring Donald Trump as the villain!
I've never been an online gamer, but this could change my mind. I've actually been wondering when someone would do something like this. I was coming with different genres for a VR comic book series proposal I'm working on, and this was by far my favorite.
I actually passed by Bedrock Comics on my way to lunch this afternoon. I thought about going in, but realized I still have a lot of comics I've already bought that I need to read. Which, of course, I won't until I can actually get them organized, which I can't seem to make time for.
Twenty tips for anyone wanting to become a blues singer.
6) Teenagers cain't sing the Blues. Adults sing the Blues. In Blues, "adulthood" means being old enough to get the electric chair if you shoot a man in Memphis.
[...]
10) Good places for the Blues: a) Highway; b) Jailhouse; c) Empty bed; d) Bottom of a whiskey glass. Bad places for the Blues: a) Dillard's; b) Gallery openings; c) Ivy League institutions; d) Golf courses
11) No one will believe it's the Blues if you wear a suit, 'less you happen to be a old ethnic person, and you slept in it.
12) Do you have the right to sing the Blues? Yes, if a) You older than dirt; b) You blind; c) You shot a man in Memphis; d) You can't be satisfied. No, if a) You have all your teeth; b) You were once blind but now can see; c) The man in Memphis lived; d) You have a 401K or trust fund.
[...]
18) Persons with names like Michelle, Amber, Debbie, and Heather can't sing the Blues no matter how many men they shoot in Memphis.
A really, really interesting study done on appearance and what people find attractive.
If you take a look at the picture to the left, you will quite certainly think that this is a very beautiful face. But what makes you be so sure about that? Finding answers to why we regard one face as being more beautiful than another is actually not as easy as it seems.
Nevertheless, at least in the case of the above photograph, it's not a big surprise that you think this is an attractive face. Each pixel of that face has been calculated by scientists using a specialized software program - that is, it has been altered in a special way in order to make people think this is an attractive face.
They used morphing software and created different looks and made somewhat interesting (albeit not entirely unexpected) discoveries:
This woman was found most attractive by our test subjects. Also staff of the model agency selected it as being suitable for a model career. But this person does not exist in reality - she was computed by blending together the eight most attractive original female faces. Their skin is absolutely perfect and actually looks rather artificial. But it is this kind of perfection that obviously attracts test subjects.
It covers the study and various experiments they did with it. The full report is unfortunately in German, but the English portion of the site gives you plenty to chew on.
If you do not have the energy to write "to" instead of "2", "be" instead of "B", "are" instead of "R", and "you" instead of "U", I will never ever ever read your blog.
A while back I wrote on a pitfall that many would-be suitors fall in to. Mostly guys, but some girls, will befriend the person they want to be more than friends with in their efforts to become more than friends with them. This leads to a plethora of unpleasent responses and counterresponses.
Now it's time for a new ubiquitous story.
A guy and a girl are hanging out at his dorm room. They're both attracted to one another. He can tell that she's at least somewhat attracted to him, but he's done a good job of keeping his poker face around her. He offers her a backrub and she accepts. While giving her the backrub, he kisses her neck. She asks what he's doing and he replies he's not sure, it just felt right. They kiss.
Two hours later, she's hugging him tightly asking "Why does this feel so right?" while he's laying there thinking about whether his paper is due at the begining of that day's class or whether he can turn it in late. That afternoon, she calls him. He asks what's up and she just says that she wants to talk. "Oh, okay," he replies and they talk. She wants to know if they're getting together that night, but he dodges the question.
A couple nights later they're together again. The fact that he hasn't made any overt gesture referring to their relationship has not escaped her attention. She finally breaks down and asks him about it, but he more or less dodges the question and simply says that he doesn't know what they have.
She's suddenly a lot more intent on a relationship, whereas he has become surprisingly adept at avoiding the question altogether. In her mind, if they keep acting like a couple, he'll realize how good a relationship with her can be and he'll want one. So she spends the night again.
As the sorta progresses, she becomes increasingly impatient. The longer this goes on, the less he really wants a relationship with her. The more impatient she gets, the less he even really wants the sex anymore. Eventually, he suggests that maybe they ought to just cool it and be friends or something. She doesn't like that idea, so he gets more sex. He sleeps easier at night knowing that he has a sex-pal and that he warned her.
"After all, if I wanted a relationship, why would I offer to stop having sex?" He says to himself.
"If he isn't interested in me, why does he keep having sex with me?" She asks herself.
Eventually he gets interested in someone else, she gets upset and then angry. He comes home from a date with his new girlfriend and she has left some twelve messages asking if he misses her and if he misses sex with her. He becomes increasingly agitated (cause he warned her, after all) and she becomes increasingly angry (how can he be so cold to her after all they shared?)
She comes out of it angry and upset, but he comes out of it just fine. After all, why shouldn't he? He got everything he wanted.
While the previous installment of Paging Dr. R. posed a variation of the Harry Met Sally Question, whether or not a man and a woman can be just friends, this installment will focus on whether or not a man and woman can have sex without strings attached.
My position of the Harry Met Sally question is that guys and girls can be friends, but only if both parties are being honest about their intentions. My position on the Sex Without Strings question is actually about the same. Unfortunately, in both cases, one party or the other is generally dishonest, leading to unfortunate results as often as not (usually more).
The problem in the above scenario isn't necessarily that they're having sex outside of a relationship. Some people do it, enjoy it, and it doesn't cause problems. Those, I'd say, are the minority. In general, one party or the other believes that the sex really means something and they're just going along because they more they do it, the more they feel that the other person will believe the same. I'd say somewhere between 75-90% of the time, it's the girl that thinks that.
Cameron Diaz's character from Vanilla Sky embodies that belief. She doesn't say the quote as a suggestion or an abstract belief, she screams it as she drives Tom Cruise at eighty miles an our down a busy road on their way off a bridge. (I'm not giving much away, that's all in the first fifteen minutes or so.) While most people are more stable than Diaz's character, variations of it occur as many variations of the scenario I wrote above do. In some cases, they're in a relationship and she wants it to be more serious. In others, the relationship is in trouble and she thinks that'll save it.
According to her and all of her friends, he will be the villain in the struggle. To an extent, it is deserved. Whatever his intentions were, he kept his cards close. He only overtly admitted that a relationship wasn't going to happen when he became uncomfortable with her aggressiveness. He's also the one who got out unscathed and unhurt, so it's natural to say that if she's hurt and he's not, surely he did something.
More of the fault, in my view, lies with her. While he wasn't completely honest, she was outright dishonest. She explicitly or implicitly demonstrated that she was fine having sex outside the context of a relationship. The gateway to sex with her was meant to be a relationship. Like the guy from my earlier scenario, she wanted something and acted as though she wanted something else. He should have known better, but she really shouldn't have expected him to. Especially when he has every incentive not to make that realization because as soon as he does, he either stops getting sex or enters a relationship he (apparently) doesn't want in to.
Now, as to my personal views on the subject, I am more or less in agreement with Heidi and Daniel in their comments below. The notion of so much as kissing someone that I don't have feelings for simply doesn't appeal to me. I suppose that I'm not a typical male in that regard. I feel the sentimental attachment of a shared moment, or shared moments. If I know ahead of time that it's not going anywhere, the feeling is hollow.
That's certainly not the case with everyone. Different people want different things from a relationship and some people simply want the physical aspects of it and are willing to put up with the rest (note: only when they have to) to get that. A lot of girls simply want the emotional support aspect of a relationship, which is why they often string some guys a lot as their "close friends" despite being aware on one level or another that's not what they're friends want.
In a way, relationships are a negotiation. The typical guy wants sex, the typical girl wants emotional support. In the scenario I wrote in April, the girl got what she wanted, so why should she give up anything more than she has to? Especially when she get can get emotional support not only from the guy-who-wishes-he-was-more but also from a boyfriend. Extra points if the boyfriend "doesn't open up easily" (is a standoffish jerk). Extra bonus points if he drives a motorcycle. On the other side, if a guy is getting sex from a girl, as the saying goes, "why buy milk when the cow is free?" Especially in the age of "sexual liberation" where sex outside a relationship is more permissable and so they can be sleeping with someone while pursuing someone else, much as the girl can be confiding in her problems with the motorcycling jerk to her friend-who-wants-more.
There are exceptions to The Negotiation Rule. Sometimes relationships occur seemlessly out of the blue where everything comes together at once. Of course, waiting for that is the subject of another post entirely. Coming soon to a blog near you, for sure.
Letters To People Whose Software Manages This Blog, But Don't Read It
Dear Blogger Gang,
I was actually very close to writing a spirited defense of you guys, in light of all the crap you've been recieving for blogspotted archives and the like. Then you released the new posting interface and since then I have not been very inclined to. First I couldn't find my drafts folder, then I did. Except that if I "edit" one and publish it, it disappears. So I've produced one post, but have lost two. Since they involved old links, I'll never be able to reproduce them. I also can't help but notice this new interface is only available to Blogger Pro people. Blogger Free folks have the same old boring (read: working) interface. It reminds me a bit of when I first subscribed to Blogger Pro and you guys decided to delete posts over a certain length, meaning, of course, my longest ones.
My primary defense of you guys was going to be that "free is free and it ought to be appreciated rather than berated, even if it's buggy."
I still believe that, but I can't help but notice that both of my problems exist only to Blogger Pro users. Is this a cynical attempt to get me to switch to the more expensive Blogger Plus program, or do you just hate people that give you guys money?
Sincerely, Author Of This Blog That You Manage But Do Not Read
God is Still In Heaven And All His Right With The World (or The Many Deaths of Jesus)
(Note: This is a From The Drafts feature, meaning it's something I wrote a long time ago or but for some reason did not post at the time. Some of the information -- like, ahem, having a job -- is outdated. I'm also still "gearing up" on the second Slaughter book, so that part is still acurate, unfortunately)
I'm gearing up for the second novel in my Slaughter Chronicles series. I was doing research when I came across this religious site with some very... interesting ideas. One of my many odd duties at work is publishing (usually to CD or printout) my boss's giant religious tract, The Christian Array. While I'm not a member of the Church of Christ or whatever it is that the author of this site follows, I always find these things to be quite philosophically intriguing.
Chapter 1 Before This Universe Was Created - God Had No Christ Chapter 2 Before Our Earth Was Created - God Created & Destroyed Many Planets & Many Christs Chapter 3 God Created This Earth & Found Jesus - And Jesus Became God's Earth Christ
Other Information #1 Looking At Our First Three Lives Through The Power Of Pictures #2 It Is UnGodly To Believe In UFO's & Aliens #3 How Many Christs Did God Create And Destroy Inside This Universe? #4 The Big Bang Theory & The Evolution Theory Had To Be Made Because Of Time Gaps
I thought we had a deal. Last night, I decided I would forego sleep and clean my room. In return for your cooperation, I would be very productive. Here was what I was going to accomplish:
Two (2) organized closets.
One (1) walk-in closet that I can actually walk in to.
Fifty Bazillion (5x10^1000000000000) coins picked off the floor.
Zero (0) bathrooms that I am ashamed of.
So it was all good, right? You were going to hold off and I was going to actually use my time productively. SO WHERE THE BLOODY HECK ARE MY KEYS?!?!?! I had them when I started, now they are gone. I do not recall putting them away anywhere, but where are they? Where? Where? Where? I got places to go! Things to do! I didn't leave any food out of the freezer last night so I can't eat until I find my keys! I have a job lead to follow up on! C'mon. Where are they? Was this part of the contract:
One (1) Set of lost keys.
Or this?
One (1) Pissed off R. Alex.
Or this?!
One (1) Laughing Sandman.
I DON'T DAG GONE THINK SO! I have the contract right where... how bout that! They're where my keys are. So you just find the contract and prove me wrong. I dare you! I double-dog dare you!
Heh. That's what I thought.
Prick.
Best, Author on the Blog You Do Not Read
PS You know I'm just joking, right? I mean, I'm about to take a nap and I need to get up in three hours or so. I'm going to need your assistence on that. So maybe in three hours you can help me get out of bed, show me where the keys are, and I'll write you a really nice poem or something. You know how much I hate writing poems, but I'd write one just for you!
The population of an entire Shadowbane town was forcibly moved to the bottom of the sea, where they drowned. City guards turned feral and attacked town residents. Mobs of never-before-seen superpowerful creatures, seemingly spontaneously spawned from the ether, began to prowl the streets unchecked, killing characters in the most painful way possible.
[...]
Experienced players looked on in horror as new players were slowly and gleefully dismembered by ax-wielding ogres. Others just laughed and looted the characters' bodies after the ogres were done.
"If you go to what is left of the town of Khar, you will see my grave," one Shadowbane survivor wrote in an e-mail. "I never knew dying could be so hilarious -- I had a great time."
Mike Gontelli, a late arrival to the game that evening, said that when he arrived in Shadowbane "there were hundreds of tombstones. New players were being beaten and tortured. Newbie blood was flowing like a river. I knew it wasn't real, but it was oddly terrifying."
[...]
"Hallelujah, I was dead and now I'm not," said player Brian Buttoloer. "This is way better than real life. Let the games begin … again."
This is a rant sent to me by my friend Robert, who is presently a teacher living in Arizona. Since everyone needs to rant and every rant needs a soapbox, I present it to you unedited:
What is it with people? Why are they so weird? And I don't mean weird in the whole "Hey, why are you dressed like a gorilla?" weird. No, offense, Mike. But weird in the sense that they just can't be..well....nice?
Now, all day long I deal with kids. pubescent kids at that. Their world is so fickle! One minute is all nice and rosey with a hearty "Hey, Mr. Shelton" And the next is centered around the kid giving one "The hairy eyeball."
You know, with puberty, kids grow hair in strange places.
Yes, like the eye. leave my descriptive phrase alone.
The sad and perplexing thing is that you'd thing that once these kids grow up into, say, adults that this behavior grows up as well.
Well, not so much, no.
See, take most of the adults I work with. At school. Yes, I am talking of the very MOLDERS of the childeren. The ones the kids are supposed to "Look up to" and "Emmulate" and "Not throw things At"
These people are just as bad as the kids! Now, one could make the VERY viable argument that since the teachers hang around the children all day and mostly WITH children, we. in turn, emmulate (look up to and throw things at) them as well.
However, there are PLENTY of other traits that these kids exhibit that adults (for the most part DO not mimmic). There are things that we, as adults know better not to try to do.
For instance, we bathe.
Now what burns me is how adults can be so smarmingly cliquish like the children. The place I work is like this. It took me a whole half a year to be recognized by most of the "returning teachers from last year" as someone worth speaking to.
By the way, if you say the whole "Returning teachers..." part, it helps if you do it with an echo, just to get the full effect of its lofty position it is held in. I found that if you do this enough, the other teachers think you're crazy and, therefore, interesting.
And I don't just see the clique thing at where I work. I see it everywhere. I understand that people have a certain group that they like to hang out with. But I'm also talking about the snobbery. They whole "I don't talk to them until they prove themselves to me" Frat boy stereotype.
What the heck is that about?
Since when should have to prove ourselves to other people just so they'll relax around us and talk to us as if (AS IF!) we were normal people? Should we each have a song and dance prepared so that we can be judged for our composure and presence? And....will there be a swimsuit competition as well?
And I see this in many places. Except some bars because many poeple are EVERYONE'S friend when they're tanked. And there are enough MEAN drunks in the world to negate the idea of getting everyone snookered.
I Just Killed One of My Kids, So I'm Feeling a Little Blue
To a writer, characters are in a way like kids. To writers like me, where characters take on a life of their own, that is particularly true. I assign them a certain set of traits, certain experiences and whatnot, but once I turn them loose, they control the action more than vice versa. In the cases of my novels, I don't generally know how precisely it's going to end until I am at least halfway through. That much is up to the characters.
So there are times I am angry at so-and-so for doing such-and-such, but I write them doing it anyway. Every now and again, my characters do die and it's sometimes, though not always, a quite tragic event. But in many ways, all their failures are a tragedy to me. They make me want to smack them over the heads, maul them, or just make me pity them.
So when Rawlings is crying over killing one of her characters, I can relate.
After writing the death scene, Rowling recalled, "I walked into the kitchen crying and Neil said to me, 'What on earth is wrong?' And I said, 'I've just killed the person.'"
You raise the characters as best ya can, but at some point you must set them free to face the world, or each other, or something conflicting that makes a story interesting.
I haven't collected comics in a while, but since comics really helped my substandard reading skills develop, it still runs in my blood.
So anyway, this site covers upcoming superhero flicks. Interesting (in the case of Marvel projects) and depressing (in the case of DC projects) at the same time! Give it a look.
Lastly, Owen Courreges has a number of posts reflecting on the superior philosophy of The Punisher. Except that his posts have been blogspotted something fierce and I can't link to a blasted one of them. Owen, talk to Kevin ASAP, will ya? In any case, go to his site and look for comic book scans and you'll see some.
UPDATE: Over at Warliberal, Space Ghost returns with Captain Euro and Batman as guests!
1.) If you can't even spell "the" correctly, don't expect me to open your email.
2.) If my name appears as "tonyrosen", don't expect me to open your email.
3.) If you follow your pattern of adding a billion nonsensical alpha/numeric characters after the subject, don't expect me to open your email.
4.) If your subject says anything about septic tanks, teens, girls, teen girls, sex, or any form of animal cruelty, don't expect me to open your email.
I am not interested in teen sex, teens, homosexual encounters, or making a million dollars from home. I'm definitely not into having sex with animals.
You can most likely mark the "three wheeled scooter" off the list as well. Along with anything having to do with viagra, solarix, or any form of date rape drug. I don't need auto insurance, home owner's insurance, life insurance, or health insurance.
Reminds me of some of Robert Eastlake's away messages from At Heaven's Door. Sample:
"Hello, you have called Robert Eastlake, and I don't want aluminum siding! I rent my home, so you can count me out for a new energy saving deal, too. I am perfectly happy with my long distance company, and I don't have any spare money to help save our eroding environment. My carpet is clean, my lawn is cut, my house is painted. I don't read magazines, have too many credit cards, and you can keep the one million dollars I may have already won. If your proposition is not yet mentioned, please leave a message. "
A couple others:
"I'm sorry, the number you dialed must be a wrong number. You called the residence of Robert Eastlake, and no one ever calls him. So please leave me a message on this answering machine when it goes beep. Be sure to tell me who you meant to call, and I will see what I can do about getting you the correct number."
and
"Hello, you have called the residence of Robert Eastlake. Unless, of course, you are the FBI, CIA, or in any way linked with the Department of Justice, in such a case my name is Marvin Rodriguez and Robert Eastlake left the country to a place far away with no extradition agreements with the United States. Leave a message."
You guys shoulda seem my AIM away messages back in my heyday...
I apologize in advance for annoying you, although some of you may find the results of this interesting. After a discussion with Alex on the referrals we are getting and how we need to "do more pop-culture techno-geek posts", I am going to test this. The following words are a marketing research project to see exactly what we should be posting on. Soon, we will know what brings in the masses to us.
There is no need to read further than this point, unless you are just plain masochistic. :)
computers hard drive crashes video cards multi-monitor video capture Halo Super Smash Bros. Zelda flat panel Harry Potter Amazon Van Halen They Might Be Giants Phil Pritchett Randy Newman A Bug's Life Pixar Corporate Scandal Deck of Cards Free Iraq html javascript vbscript scripting wi-fi my mom movie reviews honda chevy ford dodge toyota soy bean farmers the matrix x-men space shuttle space tourism radiohead canon hewlett-packard adobe buick harry turtledove arthur c. clarke houston astros houston texans houston rockets houston aeros Yao Ming Shaquille O'Neill Steve Francis Jeff Bagwell Craig Biggio Lance Berkman Billy Wagner Jeff Kent Richard Hidalgo Mel Gibson Jodie Foster Anthony Hopkins Jack Nicholson Adam Sandler Walter Chronkite David Brinkley personal jet pack Adam Taylor Jason Paris R. Alex Whitlock University of Houston Baylor University Clear Lake High School J. Frank Dobie high school what do I really hope to accomplish with this i don't know but it seems like a fun way to pass the time even though I am sure I have better things to do but who cares no one is reading this anyway so I can say whatever I want like the fact that I think elephants should be pink and white and that the phrase unmountable boot device sounds like a bad techy porno film title but it is all in good fun and why are you even reading this far it makes no sense you really are masochistic aren't you masochistic bloggers and masochistic blog readers oh well i should get back to the pop culture references and techy geekdom shtuff otherwise this whole exercise will be a failure alex and jason feel free to add to this list if you want that way we can make this more fun and bloated like a dead rat in the hot sun on the side of the road that no one wants to pick up so it stinks up the whole neighborhood real good so now i am getting back on track calculator wicker basket dragonball z neon genesis evangelion you're under arrest excel saga gasaraki spriggan i was in those last three by the way if you care but i don't expect you to apostrophe comma colon period bang ampersand blogger pro slate salon fox msn microsoft oracle peoplesoft adp intuit alliance hit through the middle out of the park hot air ballooning through the alps hannibal and his elephants couldn't match that but julius ceasar could now there was a man who knew how to wage war his nephew augustus was good at maneuvering i claudius is a great bbc mini-series from the 1970's starring some great actors like brian blessed john hurt patrick stewart who wore his toupee named george john rhys-davies that fat guy from sliders you know and a few other guys i can't remember thriteen hours long but worth the watch man i can ramble i always knew i could ramble but wow man so now i will finish off with a flurry and end this sad pathetic excuse for a post couch sofa love seat devan easy chair rocker keyboard printer cpu tower motherboard bluetooth airplane austin powers bye bye now star wars episode iii compaq giga-byte howard the duck top secret scary movie hulk daredevil spider-man doc ock batman superman smallville tom welling chloe sullivan allison mack pete ross sam jones iii green lantern kevin smith jason mewes view askew jay and silent bob strike back dogma chasing amy mallrats clerks jersey girl fletch chevy chase leonard maltin john hughes sixteen candles molly ringwald anthony michael hall hall and oates blondie taco puttin' on the ritz erasure depeche mode information society howard jones a-ha take on me peter schilling major tom world of lust and crime different story jesus jones remember the alamo pearl harbor pearl jam man this has gotta be one of the longest free association exercises ever okay i am shutting up now
I have worked at my company as a programmer (the sole full-time programmer, in fact) for almost 2 years now. In that time, although only a couple walls separate us, I had never had a real conversation with th CEO of our company. Yes, I had seen him before in the hallways and said hello. Once, we even had a mini-conversation because we both walked into the elevator at the same time both holding bags of food from Wendy's. That was nothing near a real conversation, though.
The other day I was visited by the President of one of the subsidiary companies my company owns. He wanted to talk to me about a project to enhance parts of the website for investors. Fast forward to yesterday, when I'm sitting at my desk working on the project when the CEO walks into my office and hands me a disk. He says he needs the language on some of the web pages updated immediately for investors who would be looking at the site later in the day. He said all the language and instructions were on the disk, I replied that I would get right on it, and he left. In a couple minutes, I had updated the pages on our site and called him to let him know so he could look it over and make sure everything looked good. While looking it over, we had what I would term our first real conversation. It went something like this:
CEO: Okay, this looks good. On the "Subsidiaries Page", I think there needs to be a couple commas in the second paragraph, right after the words and . Does that look right to you? Me: Well, that looks like the right place, but if you have those commas, I think the sentance should be reworded a bit, taking out the word and adding after the second comma instead. That makes it flow better. CEO: You're right... How about here in the third paragraph? I think I got the possesive on the word "it's" incorrect. Me: Yeah, "it's" with the apostrophe before the "s" is the contraction. CEO: Does the apostrophe come after the "s" in this case? Me: I don't think so. I think in all possessive cases, it's just plain "i"-"t"-"s", no apostrophe. I'm trying to pull back all my high school grammar lessons.[laugh] CEO:[laugh] Yeah, I know...
It went on like that for a little longer. Not the typical conversation one would expect to have between the CEO of a corporation and a programmer, but a fun little conversation nonetheless.
All in all, I think I work for a good guy, and it's things like this that re-inforce that notion for me.
I have no idea why Rob Reiner, or anyone else, wanted to make this story into a movie, and close examination of the film itself is no help. "North" is one of the most unpleasant, contrived, artificial, cloying experiences I've had at the movies. To call it manipulative would be inaccurate; it has an ambition to manipulate, but fails.
[...]
What is the point of the scenes with the auditioning parents? (The victimized actors range from Dan Aykroyd as a Texan to Kathy Bates as an Eskimo). They are all seen as broad, desperate comic caricatures. They are not funny. They are not touching. There is no truth in them. They don't even work as parodies. There is an idiocy here that seems almost intentional, as if the filmmakers plotted to leave anything of interest or entertainment value out of these episodes.
This movie has to be seen to be believed. On the other hand, maybe that's too high a price to pay. "Highlander 2: The Quickening" is the most hilariously incomprehensible movie I've seen in many a long day - a movie almost awesome in its badness. Wherever science fiction fans gather, in decades and generations to come, this film will be remembered in hushed tones as one of the immortal low points of the genre.
[...]
Flash forward 25 years, as the older Lambert goes to an opera, wearing a tuxedo, which people still wear despite the heat wave and the 99 percent humidity. Life in big cities has grown dangerous and criminal, although people are still alive and should not complain, considering that you would think that the total blackout on Earth might have curtailed food production, since nothing could grow.
For that matter, why isn't everything covered with a carpet of fungus? And for that matter, why is the humidity 99 percent - after all, the lack of sunlight should have (a) ended the process of cloud formation, so that, without rain, all of the water would end up in the oceans and the land would be a desert, and (b) without warmth from the sun, a new Ice Age should have begun?
[...]
FILM NOTE: "Quickening" is a process by which two people touch each other and are surrounded by special effects making it look as if one of them is standing in a puddle and the other had just stuck his finger into a light socket.
UPDATE: Speaking of Sugarmama, while she has yet to join the illustrious list of bloggers who have had guest star roles in my dreams, her little critter had the honor the night after I saw that picture. She was a very obedient dog. When told to sit, she sat. When told to attack, she attacked (as only little dogs can). When told to "smoke" she breathed out smoke, as if she'd been smoking a cigarette.
I got the email last night, but my reply is getting bounced back. Check the usual suspects (inaccessible account, full mailbox, etc). Not sure what the issue is.
In the 1950's, a town in New York named Levittown popped up and came to represent, for good or for ill, the onslaught of suburbia. Cultural critics thought it was hideous. Families who were now able to afford a home thought it was wonderful. The culture war over suburbia has been nonstop ever since. Movies such as American Beauty and SubUrbia demonstrate how oppressive these little burgs are, stiffling authenticity of every turn. Yet people keep moving to them. Cities expand, woods are cut down, and neighborhood continue to pop up.
For my part, I was raised in a little town called Taylor Lake Village. TLV shares its post office with nearby Seabrook, its fire department with Pasadena, it's phone service with Kemah, and it's police department with El Lago. In all, my parents figured out that they pay taxes to six municipalities and two counties. While the towns are all a bit different (Seabrook is more blue collar, Clear Lake is wealthy, Bay Oaks is wealthier, etc), there are counterparts on all sides of Houston (Clear Lake equals Kingwood and Cinco Ranch north and west of town respectively, Pasadena equals Humble and old Katy north and west and so on) and they exist on the outskirts of all kinds of cities. Geographically, they're all cipher's for the cities that they live in. The comfort of a small town and the utility of being near something big. They lack firm identity, style, authenticity, blah, blah, blah.
Except I don't feel that way at all. I don't know if I'll settle down in the city, suburbs, or the country. The city is appealing because since I was eighteen, I've been a city boy and have growned accustomed to being near lots of things and big places where big things happen. On the other hand, when I'm driving to San Marcos or Waco, it is amazing to drive through these little towns with so much history and so much, well, authenticity. The suburbs offer a near combination of both. There are also good suburbs and bad ones. There are suburbs that people will grow up and look at as simply "the place I grew up" but there will also be those that people will look back at as "my home town."
So while there are suburbs I'd really enjoy living in, there are others that would drive me insane and that represent the harshest words of the critics' derisions. Taylor Lake Village falls somewhere in between, but closer to the ideal. Nearby, though, is Clear Lake and the loathsome Master Planned Communities. Where I come from (and I don't know how universal this is), they are the most soulless, lifeless, and plastic entities I have ever seen. They are wealthy, immaculate, posh, and I would sooner live in a trailer park than in any one of them.
My first criticism, similar to that of those critics of Levittown, is that all the houses are built exactly the same. One after another with the same layout, same brick pattern, and same color scheme. Sometimes one person on the street will start feeling really adventurous and will put up a basketball hoop. They are utterly uniquitous and bland and I can just imagine former residents who grew up there going into the wrong house because they 1991 Oak Bend Forest Park Court Drive as 1661 and couldn't tell which house was theirs. The house they grew up in is the same as all the houses next to them and around them and in neighborhoods built by the same Master Plan Community builder fifteen hundred miles away.
Levittown was, for most of its residents, the first chance they had at a home. They were moving out of apartments and slums and so the utilitarian nature in which Levittown was built was a godsend to them because it allowed them a chance to afford a house they would not otherwise have. For residents of mass production model homes in Houston suburbia, that is not so much the case. They could just as easily have a relatively nice house in Taylor Lake Village or Seabrook, but the houses in Bay Oaks are just so much bigger and nicer and state-of-the-art(less). Numerous people that I know actually moved out of the regular joe burns into the mass production variety as they moved up the corporate ladder.
This alone wouldn't bother me (to each their own, after all) were it not for the inevitable, irresistable temptations of these commuties to conform and that conformance to be enforce vigorously by Home Owner's Associations. Now, HOA's are not unique to Master Planned Communities. My subdivision in TLV has a somewhat active HOA that keeps fences from getting too high, pressures certain residents to mow their lawns, and keeps cars from being parked on the lawns. They want to keep things from going the way of less-maintained Seabrook and I understand that. What they generally don't do (to my knowledge) is tell people what hue of brown or off-white their houses must be painted, how often the lawns must be mowed (within reason), what kind of regulation sprinklers are allowable, and so on.
They don't do these things for a very good reason: There's no point. Does it really matter if our pillars are painted a lighter shade of brown than our neighbors when they have a red brick driveway with a big stucco wall and we have a standard concrete driveway and wooden fence? But when you have houses that were all designed and built by the same people at the exact same time, two different shades of brown can clash, y'know. A green sprinkler with a yellow one next door? That just stands out. Home Owners Associations are generally run by the busibodies that give a crap, so they notice these things and as such apply onerous regulations so that nothing stands out and there's nothing to offend anyone.
A couple years back, I was at a political gathering where the topic of HOAs came up. I voiced my opinion, figuring a liberal fellow like the man I was talking to would agree, but he just shook his head and said, "You don't understand. Irregularities depreciate property values. A stronger Home Owner's Association is good for your investment. You'll see when it's your turn to buy a house."
Hopefully he's wrong and I won't. I don't want to live in an investment or a property value. I want to live in a house. A home.
Which all brings me to the impetus for this post. Kevin linked to an article in the Houston Chronicle about the Sugar Land City Inspector's office.
Sugar Land residents like the laws that give the city its golf course-like appearance. But the sign restrictions can sometimes rub people the wrong way when they are looking for the family's lost cocker spaniel or launching a new sandwich shop.
"The philosophy we have had in place for years is that people move here because of the appearance and the orderliness of the community," said City Manager Allen Bogard.
One way the orderliness is maintained is by removing illegal signs, such as those for garage sales. The signs are fair game for inspectors.
"I used to pick them up and take them back to the owner and explain they were illegal. After I got chewed out and was called names several times, I just threw them in the back of the truck and kept going," [City Inspector] May said.
May, a code enforcement inspector for almost two years, covers the area south of U.S. 59. It includes almost all of the city's new neighborhoods, many of which are part of the First Colony master-planned community.
First Colony subdivision designs include extensive landscaping. Homeowner associations are very active in those neighborhoods, and that makes May's job a little easier.
I'm certain that they do. Given my experiences in the Clear Lake area, it's not remarkably surprising that these codes are supported. Property values, you know. Investments!
I can understand the desire to have a town be attractive. I'll get off my high horse for a moment and say that Seabrook's tendency to have cars in their front lawns on cinder blocks is enough to keep even me from moving in there. But a garage sale sign? How is someone supposed to have a garage sale if they can't advertise it? Is it really such a crime to have an 8.5x11 sign posted on a power line for a garage sale? Little posted signs for web training or whatnot I can understand, but c'mon, a garage sale.
Something tells me that First Colony residents are probably not all that hip on the concept of a garage sale. After all, they're all well paid people. Who needs a quarter for an old book that they could throw away? Besides, those garage sales attract all those cars. Those cars obstruct the green of the regulation-mowed lawns and paint-by-number houses. Oh, and I'm sorry if you lost your dog and would give anything to get it back, but your sign detracts from the beauty that is out neighborhood (yes, the article says that lost dog posters are also banned).
In TLV, there were always some curmudgeons that would get mad at us if we walked across their lawns. There were also biddies who'd get their panties in an uproar when so-and-so put up a basketball hoop or whatnot. But kids want to play basketball. Some people like having their old stuff go to good use by selling it to a neighbor for a quarter. People actually care about their runaway dogs!
I would like more than to just live in a home instead of a property value or investment. I'd like to live in a neighborhood where people don't just admire their surroundings, but, you know, actually live in them.
Orrin Judd links to this Guardian article on the musician Moby.
Well, he says, yes he has changed a lot. For starters, Militant Moby only lasted into his mid-20s when it dawned on him that he had become a bore. "I'd go out to eat dinner with people and I'd be the one telling them how awful the ethical implications or ramifications of the food they were eating were. I realised I wasn't making the world a better place, I was just annoying people while they were trying to eat."
He says his militancy was rooted in insecurity. His dad died in a car crash when he was two (he later discovered it was suicide) and he belonged to one of the few poor families in wealthy Connecticut. As a kid, he felt lonely, ugly, rootless, loveless, friendless, you name it. "I think militancy is a desire to impose structure and order into what seems a very confusing and chaotic world. It gives you a really specific prism with which to view the world, and it instantly gives you a sense of community. If you're a Leeds supporter, instantly you're best friends with all the other Leeds supporters."
I almost just made the first quoted paragraph a quote of the day and left it at that, but I want to comment on it.
Several years ago, I was taking a Defensive Driving course. For the opening of the class, they showed us a video with then-President Clinton stressing the importance of safe driving. A woman in the audience openly sneered. In 1999, during a graduation ceremony at the University of Chicago, several graduates refused to shake the hand of the President of the United States. More recently, a New York Times writer took the what should have been a graduation "go forth and prosper" speech and turned it in to a long speech denouncing the war in Iraq and President Bush.
Whatever your opinions of Presidents Clinton and Bush and whatever your opinions on any range of issues, there is a time and place for them. It's distressing how many people out there forget that. As most of you familiar with me know, I have strong political and philosophical opinions and very strong ideas about the way the world should be. You'll also note that with rare exception, I don't post them here. That's not what the No-Lyfe Journal is for. I also generally keep politics out of my novels because I don't write political novels, I write character ones. Maybe some day I'll write a political intrigue novel, but I'm not going to take a romance story or a character piece and make it a referendum on why the liberals or conservatives are wrong.
But the same applies to all of us. For someone as outspoken as I am, I am notoriously silent
I'm working on some of the backstory of my Slaughter series and need the help of people who live, have lived, have spent significant periods of time, or know a lot of regions outside of Texas. I am creating a chain of interconnected cities in the form of a college conference (possibly two). The cities are not particularly large (cap off at 100-250k or so, some smaller). Here's the deal, though, I don't know where to put them. Well, I know where some of them go:
By putting one of them in Louisiana, I may have already done myself some damage (and may ultimately move it if I need to). So anyhow, I need 10-20 cities that would be representative of each region. Obviously, it's going to need to be really broad (otherwise Texas could have four or five alone). But in the same way that Texans identify themselves as Texans, I need other regions to be represented so that, for instance, someone who lives in North Carolina could go to college in Georgia or Idaho to Colorado or Mississippi to Alabama. Some states are going to be a bit crossways, such as Missouri, which is part south and part mid-west.
Another thing, I use the word contigious because I can't seem to find a more descriptive one. I don't define the states in a "contigious" region as being interchangable, but think of it this way: You are applying for colleges and don't really want to leave your state. However, you are offered a full-paid scholarship and just about everything you want from a neighboring state. If you live in Wisconsin but get an offer from Minnesota, that's not such a big deal. However, the difference between Nevada and California is somewhat more pronounced. I also know people that will never ever leave Texas, so I had to give it its own region. I don't know what other states have that kind of "state patriotism" if any. Also, for the sake of simplicity, I'm looking at the continental US only. Alaska and Hawaii are special cases that I'm dealing with seperately.
So here's what I have in mind:
I figure if I put a college in Northern California that would cover the Pacific states. Colorado will cover the rocky mountain and general western region. Arizona would cover portions of southern california, Arizona, New Mexico, and some of west Texas. Texas would cover most of Texas except the western-most part of the state as well as Oklahoma, which would probably feel a lot more at home in Phoenix than Corpus Christi. Kansas would cover most of the Midwest column of states, some of Iowa, Arkansas, and Missouri. Virginia would cover the Mid-Atlantic region with Maryland. Could West Virginia be considered in this area? Massachusetts? Wisconsin would cover the Scandanavian-American states, such as Minnesota. It would also cover some of Iowa. Maybe? South Carolina would cover the southeastern states. Could this include the non-Panhandle parts of Florida (which go to the South) or would Florida need its own region? Considering the high immigration rates (from abroad and other states), how contigious is it? Ohio would cover the Rust Belt, including Pennsylvania, Michigan, Indiana, and portions of New Jersey. I am undecided as to whether or not Southern Louisiana can cover the South. An acquaintance I know described it as such, and I know of the heavy French influence in New Orleans, but outside of it, the only area that I know very well is Lake Charles, which is Alabama with gambling. Anyone else know? I'm conflicted on the northeast. Is New York contigious enough to get its own? Is there such a thing as New York (state) pride in the same sense that there is Texas pride? I have the same questions here as I do regarding Florida. Whether NY gets its own, it seems that the other areas of New England would need one, at the least for Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine. Say I stick it in Vermont. Would putting Massachusetts here be a stretch? Where would Massachusetts go? Or would Vermont, founded by a lot of exiled New Yorkers, just need to go there? I don't know enough about the region.
I believe that I have most areas covered. I'm still missing a few states that I don't know enough about: Kentucky, West Virginia, Massachusetts, and Illinois (which I suspect will be like Missouri, split up between regions). Anyone have some input for me?
Father's Day ended four and a half hours ago, but I feel compelled to post on it, even if I miss the deadline.
Instead of simply writing about why my father is important to me or how much I love him, I'll simply tell two stories.
Some of you may be shocked to learn that I wasn't the perfect kid when I was growing up. In grade school, my marks from teachers were rather poor. They were bad enough that the counseller tried to exempt me from the CAT standardized test to keep our school's grades up. Most of my teacher's liked me okay, but when you don't pay attention in class or turn in homework, there's only so much they can do for you. Throughout elementary school, they just bumped my grade up to 70 (which in Texas is the lowest passing grade K-12). When I got to Intermediate school I had a teacher who was not so accomodating. My grade in the first six weeks was a 60, ten points below passing.
When parents have a failing kid, there are a number of reactions they have. Some don't care, some say "do better next time", some yell and curse, others mete out punishment. My parents could see that this was more than just a slip-up and unless something changed, it wasn't going to be an isolated incident. But my father isn't the type to yell or get angry. Instead, he sat me down and explained what we were going to do to improve my grades. They personally met with every teacher I had (not just the one I failed with) and gave them a stamped post card. If I ever missed an assignment or failed a test, they said to just write a note and send the post card. Though I wasn't punished for failing that first class (the deed was done), it was understood that I would be grounded for each and every assignment that I did not turn in.
More importantly, Dad sat down with me every night and I had to explain to him what we did in class that day. If there was homework, he wanted to see it. Dad worked full time at NASA, enjoyed sports as much as anyone, and had a hundred other things he could have been doing with his time. Instead, he sat down with me and helped me work through the math problems that plagued me, the science that I hated, and the English writing and reading material that I had so much difficulty producing and reading. He didn't back off and tell me that I just needed to find a way to do better, nor did he simply pass it off as the school's problem for failing me or failing to teach me. It wasn't something the district had to do or just something I had to do, it was something we all did together. I never failed another class and I made straight A's my last two grading periods at Seabrook Intermediate.
By the time I was in high school, I didn't need his help anymore. In December of 2001, I graduated college with thirty honors class hours to my credit and were it not for some unrelated troubles my senior year, I likely would have graduated with honors. I can honestly say that there is no way that would have happened had my father not been willing to roll up his sleeves and take a pro-active role in my education.
The second story also took place in the sixth grade. In addition to my academic troubles, I was just starting to test my boundaries and what I could and could not get away with. While I wasn't busting hub-caps, I was clearly breaking rules that I knew I was expected to obey. It all came to a head when I had forged a note from my parents to get back a magazine I was reading when I should have been listening to the teacher. I was in deep crapola and I knew it.
When he got back in to town he sat me down and gave me a very calm lecture on honesty, following the rules, and doing what's right even when you don't think you'll get caught. He handed down a month of no television, computer, video games, or friends. What I'll never forget was the worst punishment he handed down of all. Right before he left me to think about what I'd done, he said "I don't know when I'm going to be able to trust you again."
Coming from my father with his even temper and Mid-Western sensibilities, there was nothing he could have done to make me feel more low. Compared to that, being grounded was nothing. I ended up getting off my grounding half a week early, but I really didn't care about that. I wanted to know when Dad would trust me again.
It takes a tremendous man to have that kind of moral authority with his rebellious thirteen year old son, but my father is that kind of man.
Help From God? Interestingly enough, (but probably only for a select few individuals) our beloved volleyball player, Air Bud, has a co-star that Alex and I both know. It's Cynthia Stevenson from "Happiness" (the happy housewife of the pedaphillic shrink).
P.S. Happiness is a movie everyone should see. Take my word for it. Its one of the most uncomfortably good movies I've ever seen.
A Tip Of The Hat To His Airness You saw him shoot hoops like the pros. You maybe saw him catch the winning touchdown with 4th and Long to go. I bet you didn't see him play baseball, a bat in his mighty jaws... or even see him score past the disgruntled goalie to upset the champions in a do-or-die soccer game.
Polly would be Polly, RAW would be me, and Jack would be her ex-boyfriend that she was supposed to call in order to go out with this weekend.
Polly: Did I tell you what I did with Jack's phone number? RAW: You said you lost it. RAW: Is his family not in the phone book? Polly:: I didn't find it on Yahoo. Polly:: I think he gave me his cell. RAW: Ahhh RAW: No way you're gonna find that Polly:: I used to know his house number RAW: Hmmm... do you know his parent's name(s)? Polly:: no, i know his last name though RAW: It isn't Smith is it? Polly:: It's Silver Polly:: And he lives in Friendswood off of Bay Area Blvd RAW: Hmmm... I'd imagine that there'd be a few of those Polly:: Yeah, probably RAW: Are you sure it's in Friendswood Proper? Polly:: Yeah, it's Friendswood 77546 RAW: Are his parents still married? Polly:: Divorced RAW: Did his mom remarry? Polly:: He lives with his father. RAW: Ahhh. Polly:: Yeah RAW: When was he born? Polly:: 5/26/83 Polly:: Well I am pretty sure it was the 26th RAW: xxx-xxx-xxxx RAW: That sound familiar? Polly:: NO WAY! Is that it? RAW: I'm pretty sure it is Polly:: Damnit where is my phone!!! Polly:: I'll email it to me! Polly:: It cant hurt to try it tomorrow RAW: Jack Edward Silver, xxxx W. Bay Area Blvd, born May 26, 1983 Polly:: Yes! Polly:: Edward! RAW: Webster, though, not Friendswood. Polly:: What???? Polly:: No way Polly:: Well thank you. Polly:: So, how did you get the number? RAW: With my keen detective skills.
X-Treme Concerting, or How God made the annoying people go away
I was very fortunate yesterday afternoon. Sitting at work, doing the programming thing around 2:30, I get a phone call from my brother. Out of the blue, he has gotten his hands on three free tickets to last night's Peter Gabriel concert and he couldn't go. Now, those who know me well know I don't go to nearly as many concerts as fellow No-Lyfers Alex and Jason. In fact, my total live-music experience is thus:
Weird Al Yankovic, 1990-ish, Astroworld Robert Plant/Jimmy Page, 1994, The Summit Van Halen, 1995, The Summit (1st stop in Houston at beginning of tour) Van Halen, 1995, Woodlands Pavilion (2nd stop in Houston at end of tour) They Might Be Giants, 1997, Numbers Van Halen, 1998, Woodlands Pavilion The Recliners, 2001, Momo's (in Austin) ZZ Top, 2002, Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo Styx and REO Speedwagon, 2002, Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo ZZ Top, 2003, Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo
So, like I said, unlike the other No-Lyfers, concert-going is not a regular or even semi-regular thing for me. But, being that it was a Peter Gabriel show I was being offered tickets to, I did not feel I could pass the experience up.
First thing, find two people to go with me to the show. The first person to pop into my mind that would absolutely love to go is my buddy and No-Lyfe Friend Brett. He is a humungous Peter Gabriel fan, and would kill to go to the show. Problem is, he lives in Austin. Luckily, he was planning on coming down to Houston to help his mom fix up her hosue anyway. I called him up and asked what his plans were for this evening. "Well, my cousin is driving down from Ft. Worth to pick me up and go to Mom's. We should hit town around 7 or 8-ish." I then told him of the free tickets I had. After stammering for a few seconds some un-wordlike syllables, he said he would love to go and would have to hurry and call his cousin (who was about to leave to pick him up) and tell him to just go on straight to Houston.
Brett, his buddy Bruce (who was going to take the 3rd ticket), and I met at the Woodlands Mall at 7 o'clock. From there we walked over to the Pavilion, got in, and found our spot of lawn to call home for the next four hours. For a day where the high temperature was in the mid-90's, it was a very pleasant day out. Minimal clouds and a nice (albeit small) breeze. Around 7:45, Peter Gabriel walked out on stage and introduced the opening act. As opening acts go, they were pretty interesting. It was a guy and a girl from Uzbekistan that he had found. Those two, with the rest of his band backing them up, played a nice set of music that was a blend of folk music and... well, pop isn't the right word anymore. It was much the same style as a lot of Peter Gabriel's music himself, but wih a heavy Uzbeki folk flavor. I didn't undertsand any of the words, but the music and rhythms were very good. For their last number, the Uzbeki woman came back out on stage having trading in her purple robe/gown/thingamajiger that you expect foreign musicians to wear kinda thingy for a modern grey country dress and black cowboy hat. They then started into a song that could only be described as up-tempo Uzbeki pop-country music. At one point I turned to Brett and said "Hey look, Shania Twain!" (For long-time readers of the blog who know of Alex's feelings on the subject, this is in reference to early Shania, where her songs still had a country twang to them.) We had a good laugh.
At around 9 pm, the big show began. Man, it was awesome. He perfomed a mixture of both new and old tunes all night, all of them great. I can't give a full set list, but there were some performances that stood out.
About four songs into the show, he and his daughter (who is doing backup vocals on stage for him on the tour) left the stage and Games Without Frontiers started. Shortly thereafter, both of them came out on opposite sides of the stage riding Segway scooters. For the whole song, they did this choreographed dance with the Segways. They would both cross the stage gracefully passing each other, stop, slowly turn in place, then zip... zip... zip... back towards each other. Sometimes they mirrored each others movements, sometimes the movements of one complimented the other. Sometimes they would both zoom across stage and you'd think they were going to hit something but would stop suddenly. Other than the Segways, no one moved at all, not even him and his daughter on the Segways. They were completely still as they controlled their motions. It is hard to describe here in great detail, but it was beautiful.
A few more songs in, I forget which one, he started using this piece of headgear that was part microphone part camera. Wherever he pointed the mic, the camera would show. He used it to great effect showing a lot of his expressions by pulling it a bit away from his face, or showing a closeup view of his eye. it did get a little comical though, as I leaned over to Brett after a while and commented that "I never thought I'd know so much about Peter Gabriel's dental work..."
It's at this point I take a break to mention something that had been going on next to me the entire concert, off and on, but more "on" as the concert progressed. Sit back and put out of your mind this picture we have so far of this concert. Now picture a raucous heavy metal concert with screaming wild fans hooting and hollering and loudly cheering in the roar of the deafening music. Now take two of these fans, one male and one female, and take them out of this heavy metal concert and place them five feet from me at the Peter Gabriel concert. 99% of the people at this concert were enjoying a nice evening, and while cheering and getting into the conert, were not near as... enthused, shall we say... as these people next to me. So much so that it was almost getting to the point where I was having trouble listening to the current song. Luckily, this is when God stepped in.
Like I said early, it was a nice evening. As the sun went down though, the nice breeze had stopped. It was still decent outside, but with no breeze it had been a little on the warm side (with all the humidity around). All of a sudden, it seemed like my back got a little cooler. I leaned over and asked Brett if he noticed it, but he hadn't. A short bit later, I felt it all over. It wasn't much longer until the breeze started up again. And when I say the breeze started up again, I mean that gale force winds came upon us. Heavy clouds were now hovering overhead, and with this strong wind, a ton of people started getting up and going... somewhere... The annoying people picked up and left (yay!), and although we weren't moving and nothing seemed to be majorly happening other than wind yet, I got this distinct feel from the crowd that a low level of panic was going on. Why? Possibly because the wind knocked one of the video screens down onto the crowd (the flexible kind - I don't think anyone was hurt). The show went on, but you could definitely see the apprehension in the crowd as a lot of people left. Brett, Bruce, and I satyed put. The clouds were moving to our left from our vantage point and the majority of lightning we saw was behind us to our left, so we weren't really worried yet. Plus, we figured if it's that unsafe, they would call off the concert. So we sat and enjoyed the show. Of course, at this point, "the show" now included both Peter Gabriel's show on stage, and God's show in the sky. Behind us, and now a little bit off in front of us (yet still not coming toward us) were some of the most beautiful lightning strikes I have ever seen. None ever came below the clouds, but the flashes of the most brilliant reds, blues, and greens could be seen, often all in the same strike. It was a sight to behold. Finally, after a little while, the clouds seemed to be passing over and breaking and God's show seemed to be coming to a close. But I forget, at all good concerts there is an encore, and God had one. Not a minute after the clouds had effectively passed over us and we could look straight up and see clear sky, did it start to rain. We sat there and enjoyed it, marveling in the fact that while there were still clouds in the sky, none were right above our heads, yet the water came down nonetheless. We sat there and got thoroughly wet. Not soaked, mind you, but wet. It never poured, but it was more than a sprinkle. We were wet, but refreshed. The music definitely helped the mood and it all fit together in a way that seemed like a little rain was just what a Peter Gabriel concert needed.
A few songs after the rain finished, one of his newer songs, Growing Up, started. He stood strangely still in the center of the stage but shortly, a giant inflatable plastic ball descended onto the stage. As it descended, it engulfed him and as he stood in it. He then proceeded to roll around the stage while singing, sometimes pausing his rolling to make the ball bounce with the rhythm of the song. It look like terrible fun, and the crowd tried to coax him to roll out off the stage. He taunted them a bit by getting close, but never left the stage. My guess is that's because to lower it and get in required the ball to have two giant holes in each end, and it would be too easy for people to get into or for him to fall out of if it wasn't controlled carefully. (Pictures of the ball can be seen at his website at http://www.petergabriel.com/moonclub/news/) After the song, he comments that if you ask his young son what his dad does, the son will answer "rolls around in a ball." He then goes on to comment that fi there's karma, he'll come back as a hamster.
A few more songs came by, and it was time for the final song of the set, In Your Eyes. At this point, he brought the Uzbekis out again to perform with him and together they gave the audience what was, in my opinion, the best rendition of this song ever. Her melodious background vocals replacing what I always felt were background vocals that seemed a little too harsh with too much attack in them on the studio recordings. And the instrumental part of the song was led by the male Uzbeki on his.. well, I guess you would call it an Uzbeki guitar. I can't do it justice describing it here. I just hope a recording of it, official or unofficial, makes its way out into the world so you can hear this improved version.
After In Your Eyes, he and the rest of the performers bowed to the audience, and then bowed, in his words with their "good side", away from the audience. They come back out a moment later for their encore, and then the show is over.
Overall, it may not have had all the energy of some of the concerts I have been to, but this one definitely left you with the feeling that your life was better for attending it. Extremely enjoyable, and I will make sure to catch him the next time he comes to town.
Microsoft: Unfair market exploitation Competitors and critics [of AOL's dominance of the IM market], most notably Microsoft, have complained to regulators that AOL's resistance to opening AIM to third parties is an unfair exploitation of its market leadership. During the review of the AOL-Time Warner merger in 2000, Microsoft Chairman Bill Gates urged Federal Communications Commission officials to closely examine AOL's IM dominance. Gates also advocated the need for a standard that would let IM services interoperate.
Another interesting, but less humorous, article on instant messaging can be read here.
The movement of Instant Messaging services towards providing corporate packages is a welcome, and inevitable, development. I tried and failed to get my former boss to sign on to using Microsoft IM because he loves everything Microsoft and since very few people actually use MSIM, there would be less of a chance of people using it for personal business. It didn't take, which was a shame because it would have been a lot more efficient than the existing methods of communication.
The push for interoperability between messaging programs is disturbing, though, and I hope they continue to fail to cooperate with one another. The competition is a good thing and I would be worried that the three of them (being AOL, MS, and Yahoo) would get together, write standards, and then shut the doors. Thus putting us all on a network they can then turn around and start charging for. Monopolistic? Yeah, but we're dealing with AOL and MS here. In the current environment, I'm not sure a new service couple pop up and compete with a AOL-MS-Y! triumverate. For such a dynamic industry, typical computer users are notorious for taking the path of least resistence. That's the primary reason for my skepticism of the Linux "revolution." If people are used to using something, they'll continue to pay for it even if they don't have to. Or enough people will that it will remain the standard, meaning that everyone else will need to for maximum compatibility. An IM program is only as good as its user base.
If Only I Were More Assertive I Would... Be Taken Seriously Be Respected Talk to More People Meet More People Break More Hearts Get More Done (Is it possible to have personal assertiveness? Will power?) Be Understood Stand My Ground Stand Up For Myself Be Considered an Asshole Now and Again (not wholly bad) Get Away With More or Less (undecided) Take More Chances Be More Confident Be More In Shape (I dunno, goes along with personal assertiveness)
Be Happier?
I dunno. I guess I could find out. If I was only more assertive. And So It Goes.
Jason's Guide To More Economically Viable Cleaner Clothes
Ok, kids. First things first. A couple of things you need for this exercise in denial project are as follows: 1. A personality that requires none of those virtues such as "cleanliness" or "neatness" ...hell, even "godliness" 2. A pile of dirty clothes. 3. Forgetful memory. 4. A rugged, fair and gracious olfactory organ. 5. Lack of Common Sense (most important).
Ok, with all elements in place we move to the "directive" to generate these MEVCC's: Wear clothes. Throw in P.I.L.E. (Preconcieved Illadvised Laundry Exchequer). Wear again (in the advisable 2-3 days). Repeat 2nd Step. Repeat 3rd Step. Repeat 2nd Step. Repeat 3rd Step. STOP. Throw W.O.R.N clothes (Wildy Odiferous needing Resurrection Now) into the back of the P.I.L.E. Wear clothes close to the front. As process is repeated, you'll find yourself with clothes that haven't been worn in 2-3 weeks. Give the old olfactory organ a try now..."Hey," you say, amazed I imagine, "these don't smell half bad...I could wear these."
Oh I forgot to mention a couple of things. a) Remember Remember Remember Deodorant. b) Your olfactory is most likely picking up muddled signals due to your constant barrage of not-so-fresh clothes...this is why a is so important. A good European bath is ideal as well...a little splash of cologne.
Repeat process until one day when you will finally have to put these clothes (1 load will due) into the wash (due to girlfriends, angry mobs, mother) and repeat this process. But think. You just saved 4 weeks of washing (you once a weekers!) or an estimated 10 dollars!
You could buy ANOTHER shirt with that! More at the local thrift store. That's money well earned my friends. So take my advice, and break free of this laundry dependency. Become free.
Ravenwood links to this article from CNN on a study that suggests that people carrying heavy backpacks tend to walk funny. Well, it's actually about a study on the effects of kids wearing heavy backpacks and whether or not that is an issue.
For my part, I carried a huge blue duffle back that I presently use for packing all my stuff for long trips. I chose it because it could carry all of my books, which saved me the trouble of having to go to my locker... ever. In fact, I used to rent out my locker to friends while I lugged around 30 pounds of books all day. As the study so helpfully concludes, I did indeed walk funny. It weighed on my shoulder like a sunnumbeach. In fact, on our school's little "news" program, they showed a video of a bunch of people walking through the hall and I could see myself instantly.
I eventually gave in and retired the blue duffle back in favor a Jansport (which I presently use for packing my stuff for shorter trips). I couldn't rent out my locker anymore, but I still managed to avoid making trips to my locker. I just wouldn't take my book to class except for the ones where I knew I'd need it.
Trading down baggage actually made a world of difference, though. One nice young lady even complimented me on how much better I looked when I wasn't lurched over with the blue monstrosity.
So what's the lesson in all this? High school students everywhere: Don't bother taking your books to class. Chicks dig guys who don't carry lots of books.
Martin Devon's near year-old post on LA is a must-read.
The guests were beautiful too, but they couldn't really compete. It was ridiculous. I know it sounds like fun, but it really isn't when you experience it. The vibe reeked of insecurity. I sure felt insecure. I thought at any moment someone would stop me and say "I'm sorry Mr. Devon, but I'm afraid you are not good-looking enough to be in here. This section is for supermodels only." And the service? Please. The attitude is "you're lucky to be here, now shut up."
Shame on me for missing this its first time around.
This is the No-Lyfe Journal, and seeing as how No-Lyfe was borne at an Anime convention and our stock and trade is taking Anime footage and parodying it, I figure I should talk about Anime from time to time. WAIT! Before you move on, this post is also about the nature of human interaction, how we relate to one another, and how we don't.
One of the most popular Japanese Animation serials ever to be released is Hideaki Anno's Neon Genesis Evangelion. Eva, as it is frequently called, is the story of the end of the world. It's been done, but never like this to my knowledge. In Eva, the end of the world is the subplot. It's the distraction from what's really going on in the hearts and minds of the characters. What is ostensibly a series about big mecha robots fighting luminescent "angels" is, at its essence, the story of the people inside the mechas and, most importantly, what's going on in the hearts and minds inside the people inside the robots.
Though I'm only going to talk about one aspect of the series, here's a brief synopsis courtesy of Comicity for context:
In year 2000, a catastrophic event known as the Second Impact took out half the world's population and melted all the ice in Antarctica. According to the UN, it was a giant meteorite, but there were many rumors that said otherwise.
It is now year 2015. Mysterious entities called Angels started appearing, causing mayhem to the remaining population. All conventional weapons proved useless against them, including the UN's key weapon, the N2 bomb because an AT Field (Absolute Terror Field) protects the Angels. The only weapon that can penetrate the AT Field is called the EVA, which is developed by an organization called NERV. EVAs are biologically based giant humanoids, which requires the control of a pilot by synchronizing the pilot's mind with it. Thus, the pilot's senses extend into the EVA unit. Every thought, feeling and action is automatically executed by the EVA (and vice versa!!) Only a select group of children born after the Second Impact have the capability to synch with an EVA.
On the surface, the series may seem to be just another group of pilots and their mecha battling evil. Underneath the many seemingly abstract and irrelevant soliloquy of the characters lie many biblical and religious references which challenges the traditional school of thought. Even the traditional image of God was under fire.
One aspect of the series that particularly interested me was the concept of the AT Field. Ostensibly, the AT Field is some sort of forcefield around the robots as they fight the Angels and vice-versa. As they get hammered, their AT Field diminishes. Once the enemy gets inside of it, all hope is pretty much lost.
It is later revealed that AT Field is short for Absolute Terror Field. It's actually not a physical forcefield at all. Rather it's the psychological or spiritual distance that keep us protected from intruders. The Angels are practically invincible because they are isolated from this world. Explosives are incapable of getting through. The only thing that can is, of course, the EVA, which is the human made equal of the Angels, born from the original Angel and maintained by human technology. Only something that can rise to the level of the Angel can touch through, and ultimately, destroy it.
The series touches over the somewhat universal nature of the AT Field, though I wish it had expounded on it more. There is the underlying notion that, in the end, we all have our own AT Field. We all have barriers we put up to keep us protected from one another. Sometimes, the barrier is simple as different wavelengths. For instance, someone that you have nothing in common with presently, have different life goals, and very different views of the way the world are is unlikely to be able to hurt you on any emotional level. If they attack you or betray you, in general you can dismiss their actions as those of someone different, probably inferior, to yourself. You may be injured physically or financially, but if you so desire, you can put up a wall around your soul and you will not emotionally feel their betrayal.
This is particularly true of those of us that are eccentric. The more different we are from everyone else, the more likely we are to be able to dismiss what everyone does to us. "They don't understand us," we can say. They are inferior to us or they are just like everyone else. At the A-kon convention in Dallas a couple weeks ago, I saw a shirt that said, across the front, "You laugh at me because I'm different. I laugh at you because you're all the same." That just about sums it up. When the benefits of eccentricity and introversion are so great, it's no wonder that so many people go to such great lengths to differentiate themselves from one another. America prides itself on individuality. Youth movements involve large numbers of people dressing in all black or with colorful hair or no hair at all, in many ways just to prove that they are different. to find their own wavelength, just different enough from everyone else that they are safe from assessment and judgment.
The Angels from Evangelion are that way in the quite literal fashion. Creatures from a different plain, they can only be touched by inventions created from another creature from the same outworld. To an extent, though, we can all do that if we so choose. Not just by dyeing our hair blue or wearing black, tin-foil hats or Star Trek uniforms, but in more subtles ways. We can denounce every clump and segment of society. We can deride frat boys, yuppies, hicks, cosmos until there is virtually no one left. No group to call our own and, by extention, no segment of society that has blanket permission to touch us. We can thus ignore all criticisms we recieve and protect ourself with the shields we put up against everyone else.
It also provides a narrow entry of attack. Not only are we free to deride other groups for their reciprocal negative opinion of us, but we are able to deflect the criticisms of others, like you (but not too much like you, since you are an individual), who criticize those groups. If you're not rural or cosmo, Republican or Democrat, Christian or atheist, then critiques of those groups do not apply to you. If you are not a member of a fraternity, sorority, political organization, or religious group; If you are in your town, state, or nation but are not of it; If you qualify every group of which you are a member or supporter with words that diminish your devotion to said group... then all attacks on that organization, locale, or group suddenly do not apply to you. You need not defend your positions, your convictions, or your memberships. They cannot touch you because they are talking about "those people" and you are not one of those people. You are an individual. You are unique. You are beyond the reproach of any group because you are, above all, independent.
We often go to such great lengths in order to remain insusceptable to criticism because the alternative is Absolute Terror. The alternative is to let people in. To take a stand is to risk getting knocked down. To open up your heart is to risk being hurt and betrayed in ways more than financial or physical, but emotional and spiritual. Marriage rates, last I checked, were on the decline. Instead of marrying, we live together. Instead of a relationship, we just have sex. Even if your heart is pure, is your partner's? Are you sure? Exactly how sure?
This isn't about Angels and Evas or romance and heartbreak.
I have had various platonic friends over the years that I once considered myself close to that have done me wrong. In an episode of gross negligence or a fit of anger, they did something or said something that really, truly, and honestly hurt me. I am not a particularly fragile person. Once upon a time I was, but it didn't take me long to develope my own AT Field when I needed to. Once I let someone inside of it, though, it becomes a different matter. Male or female, fifteen or sixty, once I trust them with my true face, my only expectation of them is that they do not breach that trust and hurt me. Once they do, it's over. Along those lines, I have not yet, nor do I believe I will ever, reunite with a former partner. I've seen reunited couples try and try again to recapture what they should have gotten right the first time. No, thanks.
In the words of Nick Clayton, "I never hated anyone I didn't love first."
Which is what makes opening up so difficult. For some people, it's all they can do. Now, I tend to write here in what I call "open book" format with some rather intimate details from my past. At the same time, I tend to do so with a bit of distance. I fictionalize it with a conversation between aspects of myself or with my deceased friend. I mention those things that sound interesting and generally leave out the damning, humiliating, and so on (whether it humiliates me or someone else). I measure my words, deliver them with maximum impact, and present myself with a public face. It's what we all do, to a degree.
To do otherwise would invite Absolute Terror. It would allow someone right into that last inch that keeps us protected, safe, and isolated.
Thankfully, I do have friends that I can lean on whenever I need to. They always have the same with me. As it turns out, I rarely need their help. I generally do better solving my own problems on my own. Knowing that they're there, and that they care, allows me more, not less, independence. The AT Field, on the other hand, offers a prison of sorts. Walls are built to keep the pain out that keep the pain in as well.
So what is the answer, then? Indirectly, Evangelion explores this at great length. Unfortunately, it offers little in the way of solutions. But Evangelion is a 26 episode series with a couple movies tacked on to the end. The answer, to a degree that there is one, requires a lot more. You can't love someone without letting them hurt you. The AT Field and lack thereof work both ways. Inversely, you can't allow someone to love you without the fear of the Ripper surfacing.
This is yet another thing that's been on my mind lately. How does one let someone in without fear of getting hurt. How does one stay protected without erecting the ever-isolating AT Field?
Life is a mystery, and it's fun to try to figure it out sometimes.
Sorry for the lack of updates. I'll get back to you later tonight or sometime tomorrow.
UPDATE: Okay, still a bit overwhelmed at the moment. Posts to come soon, but not sure when. Keep stopping by, though, cause that just proves ya care :).
I'm not a big Disney person. I'm not a big fan of musical cartoons or cute little doodats that aren't near as cute as Japanese animated cute little doodats. There's also the matter of their political activism and attempts to perpetually elongate copyrights and trademarks.
Well, now I like them even less.
I have to wait until November of 2004 for this to come out.
Now today there's a backroad and an angry old man cause he's straightening out his mailbox and he's picking up cans There are boys who woke up with headaches There are girls who are ashamed There are parents full of questions but there's always friends to blame
You know those movie critics that don't seem to like movies? Or maybe they like movies in theory, they just never seem to like the ones they see? Though I've heard it's better now, I recall the Houston Press when it recommended about 1 out of every 10 movies, panning the rest severely. Then there are those that like movies, but only if they're written by Iranian dissidents or people in France.
WE WERE SOLDIERS - A modern-day classic. Truly magnificent and absolutely unforgettable! Mel Gibson’s most stunning and mesmerizing performance to date.
HIGH CRIMES - Fantastic! Full of unstoppable suspense.
MURDER BY NUMBERS – The Hottest Suspense Thriller In Town! Bullock is incredible. She gives one of the most astonishingly powerful and fiercely moving performances of her career.
THE SUM OF ALL FEARS – THE SUM OF ALL FEARS is what great filmmaking is all about. It grabs you by the throat and never lets go! An astonishing and thrilling motion picture.
SCOOBY-DOO – You’ll howl with laughter.
HEY ARNOLD! – A hysterical, entertaining treat for the whole family! Action-packed, suspense-filled and chock-full of laughs, HEY ARNOLD: THE MOVIE is 100% pure fun and absolutely cool.
MEN IN BLACK 2 – An electrifying, laugh-filled, hi-energy experience. Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones are sensational!
UNDISPUTED – Electrifying! Jaw-Dropping! Wesley Snipes is incredible! It will knock you out of your seat! It’s unforgettable!
ANALYZE THAT – Robert DeNiro and Billy Crystal are outrageously hilarious! Their performances are what comedic legends are made of.
WES CRAVEN PRESENTS: THEY – A flawless, breathtaking, terror-filled thriller…A must see!
BROWN SUGAR – BROWN SUGAR almost single-handedly redefines the date movie…slick, sexy and slammin’, like a soulful WHEN HARRY MET SALLY with a hip-hop beat.
FORMULA 51 – FORMULA 51 is a high-octane, adrenaline-pumped action comedy packed with wit and style!
FRIDAY AFTER NEXT – The funniest FRIDAY ever!
MAID IN MANHATTAN – MAID IN MANHATTAN is the funniest romantic comedy of the year.
An interesting article on a movie reviewer from Houston with, errm, dubious credibility.
Among my closest friends is Polly, a spunky nineteen year old student at State University, about two hours from here. Neither of us really know how we became as close as we have, but in a sense we're dependent on one another. There's nothing between us romantically speaking and there never will be. At first she was too young and now, two years and two 19th birthdays later (one suspects she was actually not 19 when we met...), age isn't so much a factor (though she's still way too young, depending on how many 19th birthdays she has left till she hits 20) as that I know far too much about her and she about me to even consider it. Anyhow, like I mentioned, we're dependent on one another. We even each other out.
Like all friendship (particularly intergender ones), it is not without its problems. She is a girlie's girl and I am a nerdboy. She's an ENFJ and I an INTJ. At root, emotion is her fuel and I am generally suspicious of emotionally-driven action.
Some time ago she determined that she was very unhappy at State University and wanted to leave Collegetown in the dust and return to the suburbia of Clear Lake and go to school at the local branch of the University of Houston. To be fair, she had a lot to be upset about in Collegetown. I can't go in to it all, but she had a boyfriend I affectionately called Weasel that left her under the most humiliating circumstances imaginable. Her once good friendship with her roommates had turned quite nasty to the point that Roommate A was obstructing Polly from being there to console Roommate B, who lost a very close family member, so that she could be the "good friend." Attempted romance after attempted romance had failed and she was just miserable.
She told me about her idea and I didn't say much at first until I had time to mull over whether or not it was a good idea. I determined that it conclusively was not. In fact, I further reasoned, it was the worst thing that she could do for herself. She was initially taken aback.
Polly: Why not? RAW: Because it's a bad idea. Polly: Why? RAW: It won't solve the problem. Polly: What do you mean? Of course it'll solve my problem. My problem is Collegetown. I'm miserable here. RAW: Your problem in the short term is Collegetown, but it's largely circumstantial. Weasel. Roommates. Those are all things that can be fixed without leaving Collegetown. Polly: But going back to Clear Lake would make me happy!! Even you can't deny that!
And I couldn't. She returned to Clear Lake at every opportunity. One or two weekends a month, every break for more than a couple days. This has been especially true since her breakup with Weasel. In fact, she'd first mentioned the possibility of returning home right after her breakup with him. She said, over and over again, "I need to go home. I need Daddy to hold me." She wanted, more than anything, to be held and reassured by someone that she knew loved her more than anything in the world. That person has always been her father.
I bided my time hoping that the sensation would pass, and it did, but here it was renewed. This time, she'd had more time to mull it over and I got the feeling that it wasn't going to pass so I couldn't just stay silent or merely voice my concerns. I needed to stand my ground, however unpopular my view was with her. Because I cared about her and only wanted the best for her.
So I explained her tendency to want to return home whenever things got tough. Gradually, I modified my wordage and started saying "retreat" home, because that's what I felt it was. College, I reasoned, was a time for growth. It's a time to handle your own problems and make your life better on your own (to the greatest extent possible). A return home now would deny her that opportunity. The further along she gets in life, the more difficult it will be to return home so she needed to use this opportunity, when the stakes are small, to stick it out. I felt very passionately about this.
Her response: Growth is overrated.
Now, let me be clear about something. Polly is neither stupid nor weak. She has a 3.5+ GPA and is law school bound. Further, she is one of the most resilient people that I've ever met. So don't interpret any of this with derision towards her and understand that she was, at the time, very depressed.
Which comes to the crux of our difference. I viewed her depression as a distraction. It was, to me, something that distorted her judgment and made transferring schools, adding semesters to her college career, and forfeiting the college experience seem more attractive than it should have. In her mind, however, her depression over recent events was everything.
"I am miserable here! Doesn't that mean anything to you?!" she would ask.
It did, but my sense was that her misery was independent of whether or not she lived in Collegetown. I asked her repeatedly why moving to Clear Lake would make things better except by relying on her parents, which she had finally agreed was not a sufficient rationale. I asked her why she doesn't transfer somewhere else, keep the college experience and leave backwood C-town behind. Her inability to answer that question without saying "Cause I was so happy in Clear Lake" strengthened my resolve and my impression that this was simply a retreat to a former life before things got so complicated and that complication was just something she needed to get used to sooner or later and the sooner the better.
The debate literally continued for weeks. Partially because she seeks my approval, but mostly because she knew that her father had shot down her previous mention of the idea and she was testing arguments against me to use on him to change his mind (like I said, she isn't stupid). Unfortunately for her, nothing stuck on me. She eventually wrote out a Word doc explaining her argument, and I was still unconvinced. She talked to her mother and step-mother about it. They completely agreed that moving back was the right thing to do, but I was unmoved. She talked to her friend in New York, who also agreed with her.
It was about then that I started noticing the gender divide. On one hand was her female friends, mother, and step-mother. On the other side was me and (presumably) her father.
The argument came to a head on a Friday evening when she laid out her arguments for one last time before heading down to Clear Lake to talk to her father about it. I told her that I want her to be happy, but I didn't think that a retreat would solve her problems. The debate ensued and got increasingly passionate. I eventually realized that she was going to talk to her father about it regardless of what I said, so I simply stepped back and said
RAW: Do what you think is right. Polly: But you don't think it's right, do you? RAW: No. Polly: Why not? RAW: ... Polly: WHY NOT? RAW: I've said all I have to say on the matter. I can forward you the transcripts if you really need them, but we've been talking in circles. I just want you to be happy and we have different ideas about what will bring that about. Polly: But you've said yourself that moving to Clear Lake will make me happier. RAW: It will in the short term, but it's instant gratification. I want you to be happy longer than the next couple months. Polly: No you don't. You just want to be right. All you care about is being right.
Most people who know me would say that I am a rather cool-headed person. Truth is, I have a spitfire temper that I got from my mother. It's something I've learned to control over the years and it is rarely a factor in my life. That comment, however, flew me off the deep end. Truth is that The Great Divide was supposed to play their last show ever in Houston that night and I was running late because I wanted to complete the conversation that we'd started and talk to her one last time before she got the verdict from her father.
At the same time, we were having this conversation on AIM. Her AIM Buddy Icon is a Care Bear.
Do you know how difficult it is to have a heated argument with someone that has a Care Bears Buddy Icon?
I was more of a Thundercats guy than a Care Bears one. I had my GI Joes and Thundercats figures, but no Care Bear stuffed animals. Never had a desire for one either. Not my thing.
But when you think about it, the Care Bears is truly an awesome concept. I saw one of their movies once on a church youth group trip. The plot, if I recall, was this little boy who wanted to be a magician. He opened up this magic book and this Evil Face corrupted him and made him a doodie-head. There were these two other kids that he tried to be a meanie to. And, of course, there were the Care Bears that came to the rescue. At the end, they all stood around the corrupted magician and his book and they gave him the Care Bear Stare. The Care Bear Stare, if I recall, is this thing where they all stand around and care a whole lot. They care enough that their little logos on their tummy light up and shoot a whole bunch of Care at the mean person, and he becomes no longer mean. They shoot the Care at the Evil Face and he goes away.
The lesson, of course, is that if you just Care enough, all the bad and evil in the world will just go away. You can save anyone, be with anyone, and make everything okay if you can just Care enough. While the GI Joe's used their laser guns and the Thundercats used swords, nanchaks, and wips, the Care Bears just used a heaping handful of Care. No one dies, no one gets hurt, no one loses, and everyone is happy.
RAW: What do you want me to say? Do you want me to lie and tell you that I think you're doing the right thing? Polly: It'd be a start!! Not that you can do it now because you just told me that you'd be lying. RAW: But I just told you... argh. Look, I just want you to be happy. I don't think this will make you happy in the long run. If you go through with it and your dad agrees, I hope that I'm wrong. Polly: But you don't think you will be. RAW: Exactly. Polly: And you hope that I don't convince Dad? RAW: Yep. Polly: I know what I need, Alex, you don't. RAW: With all due respect, I don't believe that you do.
There wasn't much we could say to one another after that. She was going forward with her trek to her Dad's house and I was hoping she would fail. It pained me not to be able to give her what she wanted. In her mind, if we could all just agree that this would make everything in her life okay, it ultimately would. She ostensibly needed to convince her father because he held the purse strings, but more than anything else she needed his approval. Even if she could do it on her own, her father's disapproval (much moreso than mine, anyway) would taint the entire process. This is why she felt so alienated by me and why my failure to offer support (not just for her, but for her position) amounted to a lack of Care on my part. Cause if me and him could just care enough, we couldn't all be wrong, right? It would be self-perpetuating.
In my world, Care is not only insufficient, it's often counterproductive. For instance, if I didn't care, then I wouldn't have been arguing with her over all that time. When I look back over the years at various friendships that have become strained or relationships that didn't work because of something I did, it's not because I didn't care enough, it's because I cared too much. I got too angry or too infatuated, too impatient or too demanding. If it didn't matter to me one way or the other, I could have weathered any storm with just about anyone. But the Care was there and a price was paid.
In the words of Nick Clayton, "I never hated anyone I didn't love first."
In Polly's world, everything I said may have been logically correct (she couldn't really refute my logic except that she just felt I was wrong), but that didn't actually make it right. "How can I grow if I'm miserable?" she once asked. "How can you grow if you never are?" I replied.
My logic has its place. In this particular argument, I was right. She drove down to Clear Lake, talked to her father about it, and he said the same things that I did. She complained about it all to another good (male) friend of hers who, despite having never talked to me, said almost the exact same thing. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. She is presently in Collegetown, found a new roommate, and has gone on with her life. She's happy now.
Of course, she's been right before as well. After Weasel broke up with her, she desperately wanted to ask him if he missed her. I told her in many ways how much that was a BAD BAD BAD idea because either he did and she was going to want to save things and it's not going to work or he didn't and that'd just hurt her. She, of course, did so anyway. He told her that he did but he didn't want to go back, and that was all she wanted to know, that he did in fact miss her. She just needed that validation. I don't know what, if any, solace that would have given me, but sometimes we forget that other people are not us.
I'm not advocating her philosophy or mine here. I'm just thinking that much like Polly and I often need each other's input, they compliment each other quite well. I help keep her grounded and when I'm upset she will go to hell and back to make me smile again.
"Love will not keep us alive. Food and shelter keep us alive," I can imagine myself saying to her. "But without it, you may be breathing but you're not actually alive," she'd probably respond.
This movie preaches the same message, of what to me seems like emotional incontinence, that Princess Diana – or perhaps I mean the Princess Diana industry – preached and still preaches here in Britain. Old fashioned (stuck up) stoicism is out. Emotional display is in. Self control is out. "Honesty" and "authenticity" are here. Although just how authentic the acting out that goes on nowadays actually is, I choose to be skeptical about. I prefer people who do brilliant things on a sports field to exchange solemn handshakes, not to go crazy and kiss each other and dance about like mad things.
Remind me to tell y'all what I call a "Maguire Sugar Moment" based off that movie. No relation to this, though.
I'm inclined to agree with Brian, as many around me would know. I will soon have to post my Martian in Care-a-lot entry. Very soon.
Country Music Lives (It's Just Getting Older & Has Relocated)
Earlier this week I picked on Miss Shania Twain pondered why in tarnation her mass-produced artificial cheese food product music is still considered country. Kevin has outdone me, weaving together link after link into a ranting tyrade on what they're smoking up in Nashville. I've actually been planning to write an extensive article on the differences between Texas and Nashville country, and probably will, but just take a look at this for the rough copy.
There are some fine songwriters in Nashville, but you wouldn't know it because they are penning tunes for drooling morons who flex their muscles in swimming pools while wearing cowboy hats, while some arranger puts together the fiddle/pedal steel tracks in what is otherwise a dance mix, and ships the shite out to radio. This is what I mean when I refer to the Nashville Musical Shite Factory. The song is almost an afterthought to the demographic appeal. (Mr. Lindy concedes as much by admitting Willie is on the air not because of his songs so much as singing "duets that have high artist appeal.")
These are the lyrics that immediately came to mind while reading Daniel Goldberg's prose poem on depression and Jack the Ripper. The connections may or may not be obvious to y'all, but they fit rather nicely in my mind. The Prose Poem (which needs a name, Daniel!), Shadowman, and Where Your Eyes Don't Go explore that self-destructive part within us all. The part that's always tearing us down, convincing us to run away or lash out (usually against ourselves). It pushes us to distance ourselves from those we care about and those that care about us. To an extent that's unavoidable (particularly for people like Daniel and I who veer towards solitairy personal issue remediation), but once it starts of often takes on a life of its own and, if indulged long enough, becomes very difficult to reverse.
So, without further ado, songwriters who put it better than I did:
Any time tomorrow I will lie and say I'm fine I'll say yes when I mean no And any time tomorrow The sun will cease to shine There's a shadowman who told me so
Any time tomorrow the rain will play a part Of a play I used to know Like no other Used to know it all by heart But a shadowman inside has let it go
Oh no, let go of my hand Oh no, not now I'm down, my friend You came to me anew Or was it me who came to you Shadowman
Any time tomorrow a part of me will die And a new one will be born Any time tomorrow I'll get sick of asking why Sick of all the darkness I have worn
Any time tomorrow I will try to do what's right Making sense of all I can Any time tomorrow I'll pretend to see the light I just might Shadowman
Oh here's the sun again Isn't it appealing to recline Get blinded and to go into the light again Doesn't it make you sad To see so much love denied See nothing but a shadowman inside
Oh, if you're coming down to rescue me Now would be perfect Please, if you're coming down to rescue me Now would be perfect
Where your eyes don't go a filthy scarecrow waves its broomstick arms And does a parody of each unconscious thing you do When you turn around to look it's gone behind you On its face it's wearing your confused expression Where your eyes don't go
Where your eyes don't go a part of you is hovering It's a nightmare that you'll never be discovering You're free to come and go or talk like Kurtis Blow But there's a pair of eyes in back of your head
Every jumbled pile of person has a thinking part that wonders What the part that isn't thinking isn't thinking of Should you worry when the skullhead is in front of you Or is it worse because it's always waiting where your eyes don't go?
Where your eyes don't go a part of you is hovering It's a nightmare that you'll never be discovering You're free to come and go or talk like Kurtis Blow But there's a pair of eyes in back of your head
Where your eyes don't go a filthy scarecrow waves its broomstick arms And does a parody of each unconscious thing you do When you turn around to look it's gone behind you On its face it's wearing your confused expression Where your eyes don't go
This morning, I installed Quake ][ on Doral (My hardware-intensive machine). This afternoon, I resolved to start editing my novel. Promptly after, I was playing Quake again.
For two hours I played Quake this evening, conquering the third level. As I was approaching the pyramid to enter my key to get to the next level, Quake cratered. I hadn't saved the game because I generally do at the start of each level, which I was moments away from.
"This is wonderful!" I exclaimed in a voice vascillating between ecstacy and unbridled rage.
I hate losing progress. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. Be it lost progress on a novel, a video game, or whatever, it is the one thing sure to set my temper off.
I was so angry at the computer for cratering. I was angry with myself for not being more regular about saving my game. I was, and am, so angry that I will not play Quake ][ again for some time.
But that means I can work on SSP, which I needed to be doing anyway, which I was not doing because I was killing time playing Quake.
So, Microsoft, from the bottom of my heart: Thank you.
I Passed Up Drinking and Merriment to Watch This, So You Should, Too
At the Ramada Limited where we were staying in Dallas, Jay and I were killing some time before heading back to the convention at the Hyatt, where a party anxiously awaited us (on tenderhooks, I'm sure). Right before we were about to leave, we ran into this scrappy animated feature on PBS on this man talking about his dog. I'm a dog lover and Tanni was a dog trainer while we were together, so doggie psychology and people's relation to animals has always been of special interest to me. It's hard to describe, really, but it was a gripping story with some very insightful commentary. We ended up watching it to the end, being much later to the party than we'd planned.
It's called "Still Life With Animated Dogs" and if you get a chance to catch it on PBS, I wholeheartedly recommened giving it a view.
"When you're following an angel does it mean you have to throw your body off a building?" -TMBG (revised)
Last week, Heidi had this much ballyhooed (by me, and I'm all that matters) post on the subject of seeking the ideal and appreciating the imperfect.
The difference between anticipation and the reality of a vacation or a relationship is not just the profusion of details that life insists on showing us. The difference also lies in the part of ourselves that we forget to include in the equation while we anticipate. We don’t plan a vacation realizing that our minds will wander from the backdrop of scenic perfection to the newspaper we forgot to cancel, the bill we forgot to pay, the work that will be waiting upon our return. Similarly, in anticipating a relationship, we forget to include in our mind’s eye all the quirky details of ourselves. We forget that we are sometimes impatient, sometimes moody, sometimes self-absorbed.
This is a subject I've been thinking a lot about over the past few weeks as I've been thinking about my writing (what to do with what I've written and what to write next). I was thinking of the authors that I admire most and what their contributions were beyond being assigned to discontented high school students everywhere. One of the things that occured to me was that there was a theme to most of what they wrote. What they wrote often said a lot about them. One of my most admired authors, F. Scott Fitzgerald, literarily defines the roaring twenties in the same way that I'd love (in my most bold of dreams) to define my period.
But that didn't really quite work because my writing isn't so much a product of its time. My first novel takes place throughout the 80's and the first half of the 90's and I had to talk to people older than myself to get the dialogue write (note to writers everywhere, the 80's equivalent to the word "sucks" is "bites"). My second novel ostensibly takes place at about this time but there isn't much defining about the time period, and in fact the more you read, the more you begin to understand why. My November Novel is the most period sensitive because of the impact of the musical culture on the character, but it's actually the music culture of ten years prior (during the more formative years of the characters).
So if my writing doesn't define the age as I see it, what does it define? The main characters, some of them based on real people more than others, don't all have terribly much in common. Yet I feel immensely connected to all of them above and beyond the fact that I am their creators. I mulled it over for a couple of days and finally figured it out: my stories are about idealists coming to terms (or failing to come to terms) with reality. The more I analyzed that hypothesis, the more it seemed true. Whether the events in the novel are based on my own experiences, a friend's, or completely the figment of my imagination, the characters are inherently idealistic and the novels are, in many ways, their efforts to make sense of the world when it doesn't fit their desires or determined notions. Some succeed, some fail, some win, and some lose.
That's not to say that they are all the retelling of the same story, because they are assuredly not. As mentioned prior, the characters themselves are rather different people, many of whom wouldn't get along if they'd met. However, despite their different (and sometimes conflicting) ideals, they are people with definite (and sometimes misguided) views on the way the world should be and the world around them is in conflict with the world as they believe that it is or should be.
Heidi took some choice quotes from movies and books to illustrate her point, so I'll take various quotes from my works to demonstrate what I'm referring to. As always, I'll point out that SSP is available for immediate download to the left. Slaughter Chronicles Book 1 and At Heaven's Door are not immediately available, but if anyone is just so interested they cannot bear to wait, I can set the files up to be downloaded quick-like. But my point here is not to sell, just to illustrate what I am talking about.
At Heaven's Door is primarily the story of Robert Andrew Eastlake, a thirty-something bartender and substitute broadcast reporter, and Nicole Johnson Eastlake, his wife and an educator that seems unable to stay with a job for any sustained period of time. Robert and Nicole are the ultimate NF-style idealists who are at constant conflict with one another. Robert, an ENFJ, is fiercely loyal and caring who simply wants to build a marriage and live a typical life. Nicole is an ENFP dreamer who is always gravitating towards the brightest (and often most distant) star.
Robert, tired of waiting on Nicole to come back from being out with friends (more than one of whom she is romantically attracted to), explodes:
"It's not that I don't want you to have friends or that I don't want you to go out and have a good time. But what are you trying to do, really? What are you looking for with these people. You don't need to answer the question because I already know. You want David more than you want anything in this world. You want Brandon more than you want anything in this world except David. Absent those two, Rich will do. Then there's Nathan. There are others, of course, but once you start getting that far down your totem pole, you'll still be looking up. I should know because below all of them I am. And I seemed like enough once, didn't I? When you thought you and I could be married, raise children, and be a happy family. But there's always these other people. More attractive. More charismatic. More something... maybe just more unavailable.
"But you know what? I'm right here. And you know that no matter where you go and what you do, I'll always be right here. In a better world, you'd see that as a reason to stay here and not use us as a launching pad to something greater. But you are who you are and I love you just the same. You and David will never be together. You and Brandon will never be together. So I know at the end of the day, you'll always be coming right back home to your loving husband and son. I just wish that you'd understand that that means something. That for all that you love Brandon and think the world of David, they will never love you like I do. They will never need you like your son does. So you go ahead and keep on chasing that dragon. I'm confident that the three of us were meant to be together. But please... please stop coming home and looking at me as someone who isn't everything you want in a man. And when you're with us, stop acting like we've got you caged and living in anticipation that you can just go out and chase the dragon again."
Some time later, the son dies and Robert leaves her. Nicole, who'd never taken all that much of an interest in saving the marriage while they were together, spends the time between the seperation and divorce trying to put things right. Whether or not she is sincere in her efforts is left to reader for the most part, but here was her argument:
"David helped me move in to my apartment. He was really great about it. He's such a sweet guy. When he left, I almost started to look for you. When they left, you were always there for me. Maybe I can't have everything, but with you I really had something and I had someone who didn't leave. While I was out 'chasing the dragon' as you used to say, I always knew you were there to come back to. Chasing the dragon. You loved that phrase. It's not so mythical, you know. I know I can find what I want and enough to make me happy. Maybe I've just been looking in the wrong places. I can't make any promises but... but you were right, I guess. You always told me that I was wasting my time and energy looking for something better to come along. You were my gravity... always bringing me back down to earth. I hated it when you did that... but I loved you for that. I need that in my life, Robert. I need you in my life... in my center. I need you at my core."
In alternation, both Robert and Nicole realized the enormous potential that their relationship had. It was enough for Robert until he became overwhelmed by events, but it was quite clearly never enough for Nicole until she faced the very real possibility of losing it all and being left with essentially nothing. To a degree, Robert was able to accept some rather horrid behavior by Nicole because what he felt they had was enough to outweigh what they didn't. From the outside looking in, it all appears rather foolish. Nicole, for her part, was able to put up with some verbal abuse from Rob because she knew that at the end of the day, he'd always be there for her. Until he wasn't.
Then they were both left with the spectre of what could have been.
The Slaughter Chronicles is about the adventures of Nick Clayton. On the surface, Clayton is the antithesis of being an idealist. At one point he ponders whether one can be disillusioned without every having been illusioned to begin with. The more you read, though, the more you come to understand that much of what appears to be his immorality is actually latent idealism. He rather brutally cheats on his first wife, but he thought (if erroneously) that he had found something better. Even when everything tumbled and he was left alone, his rationale still held: if I cheated on Cynthia because I thought Amy was better for me, then even if Amy isn't better for me, someone other than Cynthia probably is. After his divorce, he has an array of flings with former students of his. Though they were all several years younger than he, that was in many ways what attracted him to them. As long as they were out of his age range and no relationship with them possible, he couldn't betray and leave them. For all his immoral behavior, Nick is actually a very moral man.
That's not to say Nick's behavior is excused or what he did wasn't in fact wrong. The immorality of his past behavior and his coming to terms with what he's done is actually one of the pillars of the novel. It's the conflict between the way that things should be (everyone should get what they want and no one should be hurt) and the way things are (crap happens). In the second yet-to-be-written novel, he picks up from this realization and says "okay, so if this is the way things are and things can't be perfect, how can they be good?" I give this all away because it's one of many aspects of the novel (which is not as flashback-heavy as AHD) and I trust you'll all want to read about his life and adventures someday, much of which have nothing to do with Cynthia or the flings.
And, of course, Something So Perfect, which is the story of Brad Carter, Johanna Cianfracco, and Rosalind London. Brad and Johanna are at what appears to be the begining of the end of their relationship when Rosalind (an old friend of Brad's) comes down on an unrelated matter and meets up with him. Johanna, not unlike Nicole, is a dragon chaser. Unlike Nicole, though, Johanna is much more clear about what she wants more than anything else in the world: musician Grady Hammond. Johanna and Grady were together off-and-on for a number of years and her passion for him was unparalleled until it all exploded when his band was signed by a major record label. More than just Grady, though, Johanna wants to feel that passion again or at least once more feel the unbridled passion that she did when she was younger.
While Johanna is left to deal with being unable to return to her more passionate youth, Brad and Rosalind are left to deal with what exactly Brad should be doing.
Brad is a physics major turn computer programmer who tends to break down situations into commands and processes. As such, he approaches the situation as a series of processes to her commands. He determines what he will do based largely on what she does (as opposed to how he feels or what he wants). He thinks in terms of mathematical formulas and watches, more than anything else, trends. Is the relationship trending upward? Is it trending upward at the rate that it should be? To what degree should he accept improvement at a more slowed rate than he would prefer? Is there an overall upward trend or is it rather a curve that is at its apex and thus will start bending back downward again? Has he moved the threshold of acceptability to a lower one than is desirable? Should he move it? The problem is that his ability to deal with unforseen events is limited by the paralysis of fear and regret. So he sticks to his formula.
Rosalind, on the other hand, is a novelist. Instead of a formula, she views it all as a narrative. Instead of her pattern being some sort of mathematical curve of improvement or diminishment, it's all a fairy tale where problems occur, are deal with, and there is a happy ending. She and Brad butt heads over their differing views repeatedly as the formula tells him to go but the narrative tells her to stay. Rosalind's outlook, unfortunately, leads to the repetition of error by failing to see the trends that Brad is obsessed with.
In the case of all three of these characters, they all have a vision of the way that things should be. The question for them (and for idealists everywhere) is what to do when reality gets in the way of our preconcieved notions. If Johanna could just let go of her obsession with yesterday, maybe she could appreciate what she has with Brad. If Brad could take a step back from his computer monitor, maybe he'd realize that it's worth sticking out. According to Rosalind's narrative, Johanna should stick with Grady indefinitely when everyone (including Roz) except Johanna see that as nothing but a dead end.
In our lives, we're always confronted with the imperfect. Most people just deal with it and move on. That is easier for some (cynics) than for others (idealists), but who really wants to be a cynic? What does a cynic live for? But unadulturated idealism is the natural path to disaster because it completely ignores the way that things are.
To quote Brad Carter:
“There are four ways things occur in life. There are the things you make happen, things you let happen, things you don't let happen, and things that just won’t happen."
Stripped of Brad's action/reaction outlook, these "four ways" break down into the things that we can change and the things we cannot. Knowing the latter gives us a lot more control over the former. The old Alcoholics Anonymous prayer goes something to the effect of "Dear Lord, give me the strength to change what I can, the serenity to accept what I can't, and the wisdom to know the difference. Amen."
Accepting what you can't change is the first step. The next step, in my view, is appreciating it. There is no perfect world and if there were, we'd all be bored senseless. Futhermore, what fuels our differences and "imperfections" is free will. Given by God, assured by our nation, it's the most precious gift that we have.
I'm a believer in what I call dialism. That means that every good trait we have is merely a dial pushed to one side or another. So for every quality we have, we are lacking another. For instance, I have a tremendous imagination. At the same time, I have a very poor attention span when it comes to external stimuli. I believe these two things are intrinsically related. If I had more of the latter, I'd have less of the former. I believe that most of my good qualities also come with the lack of another good quality I might otherwise have. My strong capacity for long, deep thought comes at the expense of it taking me longer to absorb certain simple things than it would be for a person who thinks quicker on their feet. You get the idea.
Along those lines, if I am with someone that does not appreciate my imagination, they will likely have a dim view of me because they would certainly notice my inattention to what's going on around me when I'm off in never never land (because chances are, by not being imaginative themselves, they are more sharply observant more of the time). If someone doesn't appreciate my analytical nature, they'd likely get frustrated by the inability to react quickly because I am too busy analyzing the situation. Or take for instance, a spectrum in which I fall more closely to the middle: Open-mindedness vs. conviction. Someone that reasons more inductively than I do will likely wonder why I accept so many of the absolutes that they questions. If they admire my comparative sense of conviction, they may overlook it. Same for someone with a stronger sense of conviction that considers me to be awfully wobbly.
The degree to which we appreciate the qualities of others is positively corrolated to the degree to which we accept their shortcomings. Very often, we take their qualities for granted and hone in on the areas in which they fall short and we call it "imperfection" at best, and many more nasty things at worst. Maybe in a perfect world everyone's dial would be set to the center and it wouldn't be an issue. But if that were true, we'd have no artists, scientists, and athletes because the most successful ones combine qualities (physical acumen, ability to think quickly, coordination, etc) that they have generally at the expense of other qualities.
None of this is to say that we shouldn't constantly seek to improve ourselves. If anyone is a booster of constant self-improvement, it's me. But at one point we have to realize that even improved, we may still never be as good at something (paying attention in class, creative universes in the mind, etc) as someone else is. Look closer at them and you'll see that they'll never be as good at certain things as you are. I constantly strive to improve myself, but I also appreciate myself for who I am. I would ask that of any romantic partner and it would be required of me towards them.
Dialism also applies to other aspects of life. Take, for instance, my last job. It was, to say the least, far from perfect. I actually have a week's worth of posts on the subject that I'm mulling over whether or not to actually post. My boss was micromanaging, the office chaotic, my job description and priority lists vague, my hours long and my pay only sufficient because of my hours. On the other hand, my boss was clear on how he wanted things done, my job was rarely monotonous, my job description flexible, and I was given the freedom to work what I needed to get the job done. So then did the pros outweigh the cons? Maybe or maybe not. What's important to note though is that they are intrinsically connected.
The trick (to me, anyway) is to realize what you want most (from a job or partner) and what matters less. Then look for qualities that contradict one another. You can't ask for someone that is really organized but absolutely loves to do things spontaneously. For my part, I appreciate people that are extremely organized and self-directed but need someone that is patient and easy going. To an extent, these collide. People who are well organized are generally so because they hate having to look for things because they're... well... impatient. Which is not to say that someone can't be both, but if so their organization likely results in some other deficiency somewhere else. For what it's worth, I've never met someone who is both, though I have met people that are somewhat organized and somewhat patient. But that just means they're midpoint down the dial.
We all want it all, but absent that, we should try to find what we want most and never stop appreciating it.
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A really, really interesting 
