Ponderings and Musings

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.

I have been receiving comments all week at work from various individuals about the fact that I’m relatively clean shaven after my beard trimming accident last weekend. The feedback has been interesting in that most people notice something different about my appearance but can’t put their finger on what it is; several people have noticed that I’ve lost weight (that fact is no longer hidden by my beard apparently) and while most wondered when I was growing my beard back, one or two thought I looked better clean shaven.

Personally I don’t like the completely clean shaven look, so that’s not an option. It doesn’t fit my style.

The beard is growing again and I plan on keeping it that way for a long, long time for a number of reasons, including the fact that my face does not like to be shaved and expresses it’s complaint by feeling raw and looking red. In addition, I am quite proud of the fact that I am a natural redhead and since I don’t have much going for me on top anymore, the best I can do is show it off through my auburn beard.

Unless of course I show it off with the rest of my body but then this would make others uncomfortable and me chilly because I’d have to walk around naked.

Earl doesn’t know this yet but we are never stepping foot in the local chain-run movie theatres again. It’s too gross.

These theatres have been around for three years or so and basically put the other big theatres out of business because they’re the only ones that have stadium seating. The popcorn sucks and they don’t show any previews on the big projection screen in the lobby because the theatre workers find it annoying, but the sound in each theatre is decent and hey, it’s basically the only modern game in town.

The problem with this theatre is the with the advertisements they show prior to the previews. Now, the ads are basically a PowerPoint presentation repeating over and over again, so sometimes you get to see the same ads multiple times before the show starts. I don’t mind the ads for the local colleges very much, especially because there’s a really cute bear in a hardhat working in a powerplant in one of them. And I’ve mentioned before that I despise the ads for Open MRIs. “Sweetheart, I must leave RIGHT NOW and get an MRI. I must GO! Watch MI:III without me, I need to have my head examined RIGHT NOW with an Open MRI!” Well now they’ve added ads for varicose vein removals.

Make me barf my buttered and lightly salted popcorn up.

I must be out of touch with reality or something, but I really don’t see the need to have some person’s nasty looking, bump covered, hairy leg plastered up on a movie screen while a doctor draws maps on it with a magic marker, followed by a bird’s eye view of some new medical gizmo that goes down through the vein and pops them out. Why? Why! Why?

Medically related advertisements shouldn’t exist and at the very least they shouldn’t be up on a movie screen in glorious technicolor. I don’t want to hear that you may get explosive bowels if you take a pill that cures acne. I don’t want to perk myself up with a happy purple pill just because it’s raining outside. And I certainly don’t want a bird’s eye view of the innards of someone’s veins while I’m trying to enjoy my popcorn, strategically balanced diet pop and Junior Mints.

So we are going to the local theatre when we stay in town to catch a movie. I don’t care if they forget to turn off the lights when the movie starts. I don’t mind the fact that the screen is in the southeast corner of the theatre and the seats point southwest.

At least I don’t have to watch anyone getting dissected before the show.

Inspired by In The Thick of It this morning, I did further research on the threat to the Internet’s First Amendment: Network Neutraility. Surprisingly, one of the blog entries I came across on the topic belongs to Alyssa Milano. I found her dialog on the subject to be very well written and inspiring.

The news is often peppered with word about how evil the internet is. Sexual predators here, pornography there, here snatch, there a dick, everywhere an ass ass. Yes, there’s a mind-boggling selection of porn on the internet and for those that enjoy it, I say good for you, enjoy it all you want as long as you’re not infringing on the rights of others.

But the real beauty of the internet is that it provides a venue for anyone to say anything about any subject they want. Grandparents sharing recipes, mothers and fathers showing off the accomplishments of their offspring, gays and lesbians letting their voices be heard, it’s all a good thing. Everyone has a voice in the land of network neutrality, without fear of oppression. Of course, this freedom goes hand in hand with personal responsibility, so I’m always advocating telling the truth when you’re out there looking to be heard. It’s easier than having to keep track of a pack of lies.

One of the blogs I read on a daily basis belongs to Rosie O’Donnell. For the past couple of months she’s hosted “Ask Ro”, where you can ask her anything. She answers a number of the questions on just about a daily basis. She doesn’t censor them, we get a chance to see the personal questions and we get a chance to see the hateful (and occasionally unbelievable) comments. I’ve always been a fan of Rosie and as I’ve followed along with her on her blog my admiration for her has grown. She’s doing good things for many different causes. I admire that.

I’m very intrigued by Alyssa Milano’s web site. I’m looking forward to doing more reading tonight, which will probably lead to more celebrity websites being added to my blogroll.

And this is my last pitch – if you believe in a neutral internet, please be sure to visit Move On’s Save The Internet site and let your voice be heard.

You know it kind of sucks when it rains on the weekend. I’ve been making the best of it though by working on my roadgeek website and whatnot, but it’s just not the same as getting out there and enjoying some fun in the sun.

Oh well, tomorrow is another day.

There are people in the world that believe cats and dogs are “just animals”. They have no personality, they have no free will, they’re here to be the pet of a human being. In fact, years ago a woman once chimed in on a newspaper commentary call-in column that animals don’t have a soul. I personally looked that woman up in the local phone book and called her, just to tell her that she’s a cold, cold woman, but that’s another story.

Boy, are those people wrong.

I can say without a trace of doubt in my voice that our cherished feline and canine friends certainly do have a personality. Some of them even have a sense of humor. For example, our cat Tom found a new way to terrorize me in the early hours of the morning today. He now jumps on the weather station control station display in the bedroom, causing it to emit various beeps and bonks as it’s confused about the commands it’s receiving. While I was having a wonderful dream that had something to do with “Charmed”, I was interrupted by Tom’s new game. Stumbling over to the weather station to shoo him off, I was intrigued that he apparently prefers metric, as he had converted the temperature display to celsius and the wind speed to clicks (kmh). I haven’t the foggiest idea on how to do that, or change it back for that matter, so now I have to do math when it comes to determining whether I should wear a parka or board shorts to the office.

A little kitty cat humor.

You’d think that being an older cat he’d be settled in his bag of tricks, but no, he’s blessing us with new things on a weekly basis. Last week, the gentle tap-tap-tap on my chin while I’m sleeping was replaced with a claws-extended push, push, scratch. At least my beard covers any scars that may accumulate through this phase of his. A couple of months ago, he discovered the piano and that walking across the ivories made music. I’m afraid that his next trick will involve sending an e-mail to my family or something. “FOOD SUCKS. SEND SOMETHING TASTY FOR A CHANGE.”

Does this all make me crazy? Not really. Would I change it in any way? Not on your life.

So to those people that don’t see any personality in their cat or dog, I say you’re nuts. Stop treating them as “just a pet” and just let them be. Even if they make things go ‘bonk’ in the night.