I’m getting tired of reading about the recent rise of bigotry, racism, misogyny and homophobia in the United States. School shootings still make me shed a tear, no matter how commonplace they become. No matter how hard folks try, one can never erase the fact that POTUS 44 was a black man and the Republic is better for it as a result of his leadership. Do unto others as they would do unto you. Give more to society than you receive. It’s not hard, people. But we live in a time where willful ignorance and outright stupidity are celebrated. “It’s not my problem” is the mantra of the day. Stupid, idiotic, banal things like Pepsi ads and James Bond microwave oven conspiracy theories and Kardashians are the distraction from the nepotism, the stripping of common sense legislation and the sheer greed planting strong roots in Washington D.C. Our government should have representatives of sides of a debate, not warring factions intent on the utter destruction of “the other team”. This is not a reality TV show. This is real life. And we should be working together, through compromise, intelligent debate and without these grandiose, empty and often damaging gestures to make the entire world a better place. When our country thrives, the world thrives. As a pilot I can tell you this: when you look down from the sky, there’s no way to tell one country or one state from another unless you build a wall. Don’t build a wall. Build a better world.
J.P.
Keeping Up.
In a way it’s hard for me to believe that it’s only Tuesday. Outside of pilot stuff, I’ve scaled away from social media and news outlets, trying to find contentment in my own little world. However, once in a while I see what’s going on via Twitter or breaking news alerts on my phone and I’m just so dang confused about our part of the world.
A man fatally shot a teacher, one of her students and himself, while also injuring another child in the process in San Bernardino, California yesterday, but this act of gun violence doesn’t seem to get a lot of attention on social media. It’s like the American public has become desensitized to gun violence in schools in the day and age in our country. Such a sad state of affairs.
There’s a whole bunch of outrage about basically every wrong decision an airline can make when United Express forced “volunteers” off a flight from Chicago to Louisville to make room for United employees that needed to get to Louisville to work. There was screaming, chaos, resistance, police involvement, a passenger yanked out of his purchased seat, bonked against an armrest and then dragged down the aisle where he apparently, ten minutes later, gained access back to the aircraft, face covered in blood and wrapped himself around a post in the back of the airplane. He was removed again. I’m sick of this story, I’m sick of really stupid airlines and while I think United was completely in the wrong in this instance, the man should re-evaluate his ability to pick which battles to fight. I guess I place a lot of emphasis on personal dignity and self-respect.
Then there’s a bunch of outrage this evening because Trump Administration Press Secretary Sean Spicer said something really stupid about Hitler and the holocaust, basically reducing it to some sort of unfortunate incident in the 20th century history books and now he’s apologizing and clarifying and doing the usual spin and twist of any typical Trump Administration official.
No one seems to notice that whatever part of the timeline in the grand scheme of things that we are currently sitting on, this part of the timeline is completely on fire.
Oh, and Trump is kind of picking fights with various other nuclear powers in the world, so I’ll be happy awaking each morning knowing that we weren’t wiped off the face of the planet by nukes in our sleep.
I’m getting to the point to where I really can’t keep up with the news anymore. I can’t keep up with the real news, I can’t keep up with the idiocy going on in Washington and I certainly can’t keep up with the mass Pearl Clutching in progress every day over some new topic in which to engage in faux outrage.
I feel just as confused as Dorothy when Sophia was made over to look like a 65-year old Drag Queen. I wish life was that simple again. I wish there was a laugh track.
I guess we just need to keep looking for the bright side.
Learning.
So I’ve been working on my IFR, or Instrument Flight Rules, rating, the next logical step in my flying career. I have set some goals for 2017 and the next couple of years. My goal is to become a CFI, or Certified Flight Instructor, as part of my early retirement plan.
I really want to lend my passion and excitement to training the next generation of pilots, no matter their age.
This evening, my instructor Chuck and I went up flying to do some practice approaches while in a partial panel condition. “Partial Panel” refers to losing some key instruments while in instrument only conditions. I’m wearing foggles, which limits my view to the instrument panel only. This is like flying in the clouds.
That’s when Chuck put stickers on two key instruments: the Attitude Indicator and the Heading Indicator. At this point, I needed to fly by the remaining instruments only, keep the airplane upright and safely get it to our intended airport.
The lesson went very well. I’m feeling more and more confident flying by only instruments.
I need to do some book studying to get the written exam out of the way and then I’ll be ready to start practicing for my instrument check ride.
Never stop learning, it keeps you young.
Lucky.
I am a lucky man to have a husband that doesn’t mind getting in an airplane with me and flying for three hours just for the heck of it.
Odds.
Our local casino has a reputation for having some of the “tightest” slot machines in the country. New York State is big on casinos these days, and the local casino was the first one in the state. While I have happy memories of the casino, after all Earl and I were married there and I have hit the big jackpot once or twice on a slot machine, the fact of the matter is that I have given more of our money to the casino than they have given us.
And that’s how casinos stay in business, right?
The thing that frustrates me about this casino and playing slot machines is that they have the exact same machines as every other casino. I can play the same game the same way at two different casinos, one of them being this local one, and I will never, ever hit the “bonus” round or the “bonus feature”. If I play the exact same game the exact same way using the same amount of money at the start, I’ll hit the bonus feature at least once or twice if not more. I still might not win but it makes me feel engaged with the game. Our casino never feels engaging or exciting, it’s more of a drain on the pocket and the psyche.
But, we keep going back.
Earl does well at keeping his head above water when walking out of the casino for the night. Me, on the other hand, I handle the guilt for the both of us.
Dance.
Sometimes you just have to dance. After all, it’s Friday.
h/t to Mark at Voenix Rising for jogging my memory with this song. It had slipped from my memory, but when I saw this video I did remember that the video version is a little different than all the other versions, in that the lyrics are changed, “my good time radio” instead of “my midnight radio” and “dj’s radio” instead of “midnight radio”.
Here’s Taffy with “I Love My Radio” from 1986.
https://youtu.be/88FJd4xaYuk
Clips.
There’s a new app from Apple available for iOS 11.3 called “Clips”. A really basic video app, this allows users to make little videos without having to go through the “complexities” of iMovie.
It was quite simple to make my first video. The interface has a surprising number of features and fun things to explore.
I look forward to playing around with the app over the weekend.
[evp_embed_video url=”https://blog.jpnearl.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/Clips17-04-06_14-06.mov”] Baggage.
I’m feeling a little philosophical today. My “steel trap” memory was definitely inherited from my father. He would remember a customer, and the exact contents of their last purchase, 10 years after their previous visit to the family building supplies and contracting business. He held the entire inventory of the store in his head. For every useless fact that I can recite (for example, only one sign on Interstate 81 has ever spelled “Bartel Rd” in Brewerton correctly and that was installed in 1984 and incorrectly replaced in 1992), I have many happy memories and memories that haunt and taunt me. Every jab or slur made at me in high school. Every time I made someone feel bad (intentionally or otherwise). The time an elementary teacher told me to just be myself and it’ll all figure itself out. My first crush (in 5th grade), being confused by it and then being devastated when he left the school.
In the 2004 long forgotten, short run, sci-fi television series “Century City”, there was an episode about a pill one could take to selectively erase their memories to improve their life today. Instead of letting it go, they just chemically erased it.
Would you erase your memories if you could selectively erase only the bad ones?
Despite the ‘garbage’ that lives in my steel trap, I wouldn’t be interested. I’m just shy of my life’s halfway point and I figure all of that ‘stuff’, good, bad or insignificant, makes me who I am today. It still haunts me once in a while but it’s part of my baggage. And sometimes that baggage just needs to be put in storage, not thrown away.
Lofty.
Back in the early 2000s Earl and I watched “Queer As Folk”. While the storyline meandered in later seasons, we found the earlier seasons to be quite enjoyable for its time. While I enjoyed the characters and the earlier storylines and, admittedly the sex scenes, I also enjoyed seeing character Brian Kinney’s loft.
His loft was quite trendy looking with lots of wood and steel and jaunty angles. Even back then I told Earl that if we were to live in a big city I would want to live in something that was lofty, or at the very least, something with a lot of wood and brick.
At one time I lived in an open space in downtown Utica (hardly a thriving metropolis by any means) that was quite lofty, though it was quite rundown. I think I paid $200/month rent back in 1992. The open space was on the second floor of a four floor building. The first floor was closed up retail space used by a local band for practice every Thursday night. The top two floors were a more finished loft owned by the building owner. He had chopped off half the fourth floor to make his living room extra tall with a spiral staircase to the top floor. It was quite trendy and modern for its time.
Meanwhile, my space was wide open with no walls, an abandoned elevator shaft and lots of brick. And lots of drafts. But I liked it and I made it my own.
Since Earl and I are looking to relocate to Chicago, I’ve mentioned that I wouldn’t mind looking at lofts if they’re the right size and in the right location. The thing is, they’re a little out of our price range when it comes to the locations we’re looking for. So then I started day dreaming about Brad and Jane’s condo from the sitcom “Happy Endings”.
There’s some wood, there’s some patio, a little exposed beam, a fireplace and a lofty upstairs with X number of bedrooms and a bathroom or two.
Now that works for me and the best part is, it works for Earl too.
Now, we have no plans on movin’ on up to that deluxe apartment in the sky, but a nice condo that fits within our budget, location and decorating possibilities… totally gonna happen.
I don’t find our aspirations to be that lofty.
Wiped Out.
I am wiped out. Work has been particularly “involved” this week. Oh, it’s only Tuesday. I didn’t sleep much last night, but on the bright side, I went to the urologist for another surgery follow-up and, for the first time since January 28 I am completely free of tubes and using all of my own plumbing.
Now I’m going to go to bed and hope that things hold together.
