J.P.

Yesterday I thought about one of my friend from my teenage years. I hadn’t thought about him or his family in a long while, as we lost touch long ago when I moved out of the area and followed a different path than he. His family lived down the street from us and we had spent many evenings just hanging out, shooting the bull and working on our bicycles, and later, our cars.

His father was the owner of a repair garage and junk yard and was incredibly talented in that he could figure out anything that was wrong with a car. In fact, I once saw him hook up a gas can and a battery to a V8 sitting on the garage floor and he got it running. The engine wasn’t in a car, it was just sitting there on the floor, running as if it didn’t know any better and incredibly loud. His son had inherited his ability and taught me a great deal about the inner workings of an engine. He fixed up an old Dodge trucker and later an early 70s Dodge Charger hotrod. He once helped my dad and I swap an engine out of my second car in high school, a 1976 Pontiac Astre (we called it the Disastre). He was a good friend and I was thinking about the times that we would drive around in his truck, thinking we were big bad asses in a really small town. We didn’t do any harm, just pumped our egos a little bit.

When I woke up this morning, I realized that in addition to the fleeting thoughts of yesterday, I had dreamed about my friend and his father and mother last night. There was nothing spectacular about the dream, it was just basically reliving a summer night such as last night, when we would sit on the porch, watch television and shoot the bull a little bit. I didn’t think much of it, I thought that the fleeting thoughts were just lingering a little longer than usual.

My friend’s father passed away on Tuesday at 91 years old. I guess he was just stopping by on his way to the other side to say that he remembered the geeky red-headed boy from down the street.

It is currently 9:50 p.m. I have worked a hard day’s work and the day’s activities are now coming to an end.

I’m fully awake for the first time today.

Sometimes I think it’s a shame that my co-workers don’t get to experience the “J.P. Experience” when I’m fully awake. While I have been accused of being full of energy at work, imagine what they would say if they saw me at full throttle, like I’m feeling right now.

I ran a few errands after work and came home to start supper before Earl got home. I sat down on the couch for a few moments to myself and promptly fell asleep for 45 minutes. It’s a good thing I hadn’t fired up the stove or anything. Who in their right mind takes a nap at 5:30 in the afternoon? I guess that would be me. Needless to say, supper never got made as I awoke when Earl got home from work and we went out to a local pizza joint. He’s winding down for the day and I just took us for a ride through the countryside and I’m still full of energy, looking for an adventure.

If it was a tad bit warmer, I’d go out for another ride, crank up The Eagles on the CD player and enjoy the summer night sky.

Life. It’s all good. Especially when I’m awake for it.

Sometimes it seems like I have an opinion about anything and everything. “My that’s a nice computer.” “I think guys in pink compromise their masculinity.” “Boy, these roads suck.” “Wow, our president looks and acts like such a dumb ass.” The list goes on and on.

Since the birth of my blog almost five years ago, I’ve become increasingly outspoken about how I feel about any given topic or scenario. While I occasionally go on and on here about whatever has irked me for at any particular moment, I’m finding that I’m becoming more vocal about how I feel about things. It’s a trait that I had kept buried within my psyche for a very long time and has only begun to surface in the past five years or so.

I think part of the reason for my big mouth is because of an old job, where the person that yelled the loudest was the person that was right. Or maybe it’s because in the early 90s a program director was hired for the radio station I worked at and he tried to throw me under the bus, claiming I didn’t play enough Rod Stewart on our Top 40 station (Rod mixes well with Nirvana, I guess) and I wasn’t going watch some nitwit destroy what I had just built the foundation for.

Part of my outspokeness comes naturally, I suppose, courtesy of my paternal grandfather. You always knew where you stood with him on any given topic and he always told you at full volume. While this can be quite obnoxious, I think it’s good to have people know where you stand on things. That’s one of the things that would drive me crazy in my single days and the dating scene; I didn’t want to dance around the issue with a prospective date; batting my eyes, stealing glances, buying each other drinks, etc., I liked keeping it simple: “Do you want to go to dinner or better yet, you wanna f*ck?”

A representative from a local politician’s office called in for internet support today and was quite rude. She didn’t like being put on hold, she didn’t like the fact that I didn’t know who she was and she wanted a tech to come over and fix her internet connection RIGHT NOW. I really wanted to tell this woman that the person she represents had lost my vote simply because of her rude attitude. But, in the effort of remaining professional, I bit my tongue, bounced my feet up and down in frustration and gave her the spit shine polish. She didn’t appreciate the fact that I had a tech out to her location in 30 minutes and that the problem was actually on her end, she called back wanting to speak to customer service for a refund on her downtime. (It would be about 67 cents, in case you’re wondering).

I still held my tongue.

But I won’t vote for her candidate in November. All because of that one phone call. Maybe sometimes a silent opinion is best.

As I type the title of this blog entry, I realize that I could take this narrative in so many different directions. Random freedom. Freedom really is random once you think about it.

My friend Terry would be so proud of me this afternoon; I am writing from the closest internet cafe to our home, our local Panera Bread. After my lunchtime entry (which for some reason I deleted by mistake. It was just a rant about the stupidity of “Tab Energy Drink” and the fact that I’m not trendy at all.) I figured I would do something that could really be called trendy and that involves sitting at Panera, typing away on my PowerBook and enjoying a Chai Tea Latte. In an effort to keep it butch, I’ve added a Bear Claw as the pastry of choice. With the often mentioned “on-call” coming to an end this morning, I am enjoying the freedom of being able to leave the house with my pager turned off and left on the nightstand. The internet connection here is not nearly as speedy as the one at home, but I don’t care, I’m enjoying a little bit of freedom and shaking the worries out of my brain. The change of pace is good.

As I was driving over I was listening to the news reports about the recent suicides of detainees at Guantanamo Bay. How sad. I realize that they are prisoners and that they have done heinous things to fellow human beings, but to be pushed to the point of taking one’s own life is just sad. No matter the reason for deciding to waste the gift of life, it is just that, a waste. And don’t get me started by the administration’s response, I’m just going to file it with the rest of it, in the “assinine column”.

I’ve mentioned before that I’m a big fan of Rosie O’Donnell and her blog. One of her regular features, “Ask Ro”, is very interesting in that the questions that people ask her are so ecclectic. For example, today:

iyanne writes:
my church is treating me from my gayness. It is not working. I am doing it for mom and her very special priest “friend”. what should I do?

To which Rosie responds:

pray for ur mom
and her friend

I find the question very, very frustrating on many levels. First of all, the church is trying to scare the wits out of this person and most likely damning them to hell for following their instincts. So much a God that’s all-loving. Secondly, the church is trying to cure the person from themselves. What if some nut back in the day decided that instead of homosexuality, blue eyes were evil and wrong. If you had blue eyes, you were sick and needed to be cured. Would we be gouging out all the blue eyes and tell those that refused to submit that they were going to hell for gazing upon others with their deficiency? No, of course not. That’s ridiculous. It’s a shame that lyanne’s church won’t allow her the freedom of being herself.

And lastly, I suppose it’s a good thing that I am sitting in Panera while this thought dances around my head. Thank goodness for the few shreds of deceny I have left. For while we’re told that as Americans we are free, there’s a chance that the government is watching what I type, what I say and what I do on the internet and on my telephone. For if I was not sitting at Panera right now, I would be expressing my freedom of expression, by sitting on my flat bed scanner and mooning whomever happens to be spying on me right now.

Today was one of those Sundays where you’re looking forward to work on Monday. The weather was not conducive to any sort of outdoor activity, in fact, I think the leaves are changing to their autumn colors. We couldn’t go on a road trip to find a warmer spot because I’m on-call through tomorrow morning. The house is surprisingly not in disarray. The laundry is caught up.

So what does one on a day like today?

Well, I rearranged the clocks in my school clock collection and installed a clock in the master bathroom. We now know what time it is whether we’re showering, shaving or shitting.

I ran the dust-buster over the kitchen table (trying to get little specks of schmutz out of the cracks in the wood), over the moulding in the hallway, over the leaves of all the house plants and over Earl.

I recorded a couple of numbers in my home studio, pretending I was standing in front of the American Idol judges. We all agreed the recordings were not fit for human consumption, but Paula barked like a seal in an effort to make me feel better.

Earl and I watched “A Chorus Line” on Logo. I’ve never seen the show, live, on stage or on television, so that was a first. I did know quite a few numbers, having performed “What I Did For Love” for an all-county chorus audition back in my sophomore year of high school. After supper Earl then split to hang with his work buddies and play poker.

I spent a few minutes standing in front of the mirror putting my fingers over my mustache trying to figure out how I’d look with a beard that didn’t have a mustache.

I brushed the cat and tried to teach him to jump up on the step stool and dance. He wasn’t having any of it.

In between all this fun today I garned a few hours of overtime as I played Mr. Telephone Man.

Tomorrow morning it’s back to work and back to the social schedule as on-call ends at 8 a.m. I feel like I’ll be taking the finger off the pause button.