It's too hot in here...

It’s very tough to come up with something exciting and creative for this blog while completely whacked out on cold medicine. My ability to concentrate on one thought is greatly diminished by the constant coughing and nose blowing. I certainly didn’t sleep well last night thanks to my fevered dreams of being a poker playing cattle baron who was worried about getting his cattle to round-up and making it to the World Series of Poker’s Final Table; then playing poker for my cattle.

I woke up worried I’d lose my cows and never see them again. Then I slowly realized that I was not a cattle baron, but a lowly worker bee in the corporate hive. I don’t remember if I was relieved or disappointed.   Those cold medicine dreams are certainly something else.

It’s also hard because I have several meetings I have to sit through this morning and there’s nothing as annoying as someone sniffling and sneezing and coughing all through a meeting. I can’t stand it for sure. But now it’ll be me and I’ll have to try and control myself with the added benefit of trying to stay awake and not dream about my lost cows.

I hope I can hold it together long enough to go out for a nice meal tonight. It is unfortunate that part of tonight’s planned activities involves a wine tasting and yet, I can’t taste a thing thanks to this cold. 

“Are you enjoying your glass of monkey stool”, asked the Sommelier.

“Oh, yes, very much so. What year is the monkey?”

“That’s a 2007 Monkey”.

“Lovely”, sniffle.

I’m certainly hoping that my cold runs its course quickly and is nearly gone by the weekend, or at least it’s packing its bags. Nothing ruins a weekend more thoroughly than a cold or flu and with only 52 weekends a year it’s a shame to lose one to illness. Weekends are my time and I’m not too pleased to have to share it with Captain Clogged Nostrils and the Coughing Cougars of Constantinople. I feel robbed somehow or at least short changed.

I wonder what I’ll write about when I’m well again. It is warm in here?

That' snot funny

It happened. I’ve caught my first cold of the season. The first stages of a cold are always the worst. There’s that scratchy, uncomfortable cotton feeling in the throat and the pressure that starts to build around the sinuses that somehow sneaks up on you. I knew it was going to happen, despite all my positive thinking and my attempts to control my body. I really try to use that whole “mind over body” thing and it failed finally and so now I sit, slightly congested and really annoyed.  I’d really rather move into stage two and just get to the coughing and nose blowing. At least there seems like there’s more control there.

It’s a pretty amazing thing what the human body does to defend itself from sickness and infection. It’s a real sacrifice of the good of the many for the good of the one dogma. You’re throat gets scratchy because when a cold virus gets in one of the cells, your body responds by destroying the cell and any other cells around it. As more cells get infected, your body commits mass Hari-Kari and dumps tons of cells, thus making your throat feel raw and dry. But in the process of this mass destruction your body is actually protecting itself.

The same goes with the mucus and congestion in your head. It’s your body’s way of fighting the  illness with an all out assault. It’s an inconvenient system but it works and it all happens without any of our conscious participation.  

I get very grumpy when I get a cold. Well, more grumpy than normal. I am quite typical as a man that way. So I’ll take some cold medication like Dayquil to try and help my body defend itself, however the active ingredients in Dayquil make me extremely loopy. I get kind of a lazy, druggy lethargy and tend to wander off into imaginative flights of bizarre fantasy. So I’m grumpy and trippy all at the same time. I’m Trumpy.

It makes concentration difficult.

What was I saying? Oh, right. Concentration.  So as I was saying, getting a cold sucks. It sucks more when you have to drag your disease ridden body to work and try to function at the level of a fully healthy person. It’s why Americans are so sick all the time because we don’t follow the European model and just stay home when we’re sick. We go to work, sneezing and rubbing our snot all over everything, infecting the rest of the work force. Instead of taking care of ourselves at home, under a nice blanket, bowls of soup and cups of hot tea, we go to work and struggle to make it through the day.

Having a cold puts damper on all the fun that could be have, but maybe it’s a metaphor for the human condition. I mean, we are frail flesh pods who think they are in control of everything, but then, the smallest of organisms, a virus, can knock us off our high horse and remind us just how weak and porous we really are.  Yeah, I said porous.

New Week, Old News

So begins another exciting work week and I can hardly contain my enthusiastic rage at the thought of it. There is a serious cruelty to the work week when you hate nearly every second of your job. It’s a job that you just happened to get sucked into because you weren’t doing anything else with your life some 15 years ago. It’s a career now and you wouldn’t wish it on your worst enemy.  Well, maybe Hitler. I’m sure Hitler would have loved doing my job.  Probably would have been promoted already.

People ask me all the time what I’d rather be doing and I always have to tell them that I’d love to write for a living. Then the person I am talking with will inevitably say, well go and do that. I then ask them if they know any Patrons of the Arts that would be willing to pay my health insurance, rent and other expenses while I cranked out the greatest novel of all time. They usually shrug and say no, thus I am forced to sit here at this desk and suffer the fools.

It’s not that I’m bitter, I’m realistic. And realism is annoying. In order to maintain the life I’ve created for myself I must continue to slog through these days of meaningless, Herculean chores. It’s my own fault and I suppose the ability to change it all is in my hands, although wrestling if from the mouth of corporate servitude is not a battle I relish.

I’ve never had a job where I wake up in the morning and I can’t wait to get there. I’ve never known the excitement or pride that goes with a job that means something, that has value and is respected. I get crapped on and yelled at by the lowest rungs of our society and I have to eat it up like ice cream and then ask for more. And every Monday it’s the same old thing. More phone calls and paperwork and typing and adjusting and stacking and shuffling and yelling and apologizing and crappy lunches and mental exhaustion and by Friday, it has all meant nothing. Then after a short weekend spent in a haze of something less than sobriety I have to wake up on Monday and do it all over again. My life is literally flashing before my eyes and I’m too pissed off to watch.  

These complaints are not new. I’m sure there was some Roman grain mill operator that dreamed of a better life for himself; but working at the grain mill was what his family did so he didn’t have a choice and died at the ripe old age of 32 without ever knowing another life. It’s really old news for sure.

So here’s to this week. Let’s get it over with already.

Coffee Slobs

I can’t understand the coffee slobs. I’m sure you’re familiar with them, or if you aren’t, then you are one and you should stop reading now because this will offend you.

Clean up you own mess. Every morning in the office I work I head to our little break room to fetch a nice free cup of Joe. It’s not a fancy coffee or anything, but it does the job it’s supposed to do. And every day there is a mountain of crap on the coffee counter, spilled sugar or powdered creamer or puddles of liquid creamer, sugar packets, water marks and even spilled coffee that no one seems to feel is important enough to clean up.

I shudder to think what the kitchen counter tops of these people’s homes look like. It’s just downright dirty and careless. How did we come so far in this human society to end up with so many coffee slobs? We put a man on the moon for crying out loud yet Sally Sunshine can’t pour a little sugar in her coffee without spilling it all over the damn place.

I can understand a little accidental spill that you weren’t aware of. Accidents do happen and things can go unseen, I can forgive that. But outright sloppiness and carelessness is just intolerable.  Does it cross the coffee slobs mind, “Whoops, just dumped a quart of powdered sugar all over the counter and floor. Oh well, someone will get it I’m sure. Heck, it’s not my job. Oh look, a puppy”?

It makes me crazy to have to clean the counter every morning. And I’m not talking about just brushing it off onto the floor with my hand. I mean I have to get a paper towel, wet it, and wipe the whole counter off and dispose of it properly. Yes, I am that guy and I’m right to judge you. I follow the rules society established regarding communal coffee stations and I can criticize anyone who doesn’t. The law is on my side.

In addition to the coffee slobs there are also those who refuse to make a fresh pot of coffee after having the last cup. I know it’s an impossible task to make more coffee and only the greatest of Gods and the richest Kings of Europe know how to do it. But I think maybe, once in a while, they should give it a try.  Who knows? They might learn something about themselves and have a chin held high feeling of pride that goes with a job well done.

Damn, I need a coffee. And Whiskey.

Are you shopping yet?

Yesterday marked the first Christmas Sale commercial I have seen. Some Best Buy Elves were hocking their 24 customer service on new electronic devices, even on Christmas Day.  I sat there on my couch and stared with embarrassment. How can they be running Christmas commercials already? There’s still seven weeks till Christmas.

It seems Thanksgiving is becoming a forgotten Holiday. And yet, it’s the most purely American of them all. The Autumn Feast that was held in 1621 between the Wampanoag Indians and the Plymouth colonists is regarded as the first Thanksgiving but it wasn’t until 1863 during the Civil War, that President Lincoln made Thanksgiving a National holiday.  He did it in an attempt to heal some of the wounds that the Civil War had opened. Franklin D. Roosevelt moved the holiday to the fourth Thursday in November in 1939 to hopefully increase retail sales during the Great Depression.

With that said, the commercialization of Holidays is nothing new, but at least they tried to have Thanksgiving. I think more Americans should be aware of the significance of Thanksgiving and try not to gloss over it while rushing out to the mall to pick up the last gizmo or toy for little Johnny because he’s been so good this year, except for that time he tried to burn the playhouse down. It wasn’t his fault all those propellants and oily rags were laying around right when he decided to try smoking for the first time. He’s a good eight year old boy and deserves the best cell phone/transformer/laser pointer money can buy.

I think the instant jump from Halloween to Christmas just shows some disrespect for what it took to even have a holiday like Thanksgiving. There have been countless battles of principal and literal wars and lives lost in order to preserve the things we as Americans should be thankful for.

I also think that, in light of the recent elections, we again try to honor Thanksgiving a little more and remember the tremendous sacrifice our forbearers made to make this country what it is today.  The lives lost and the countless dreams that were forgotten for the betterment of a people and their nation shouldn’t be, bought, wrapped and shoved under a polystyrene Christmas tree. But they should be remembered with thanks and hearty gratitude and I suppose above all, respect.

Although 24 hour tech support is pretty sweet.

Holy Election Results

I’m a big fan of politics. I consider it the true American pastime, far outweighing baseball or football as this country’s national sport. (Sorry NASCAR) It’s in our very nature as Americans to be political. This country was founded as a political experiment and 234 years later the experiment continues. We love our politics almost as much as we love our open roads, tall buildings and snooty moral superiority over indigenous peoples.

This year however, I’m more nervous than I have ever been. I’ve always voted. I don’t think I’ve ever missed an election, for anything. I haven’t even missed a Primary election. The first thing I did when I turned 18 years old was to register to vote. I couldn’t wait to express myself and help control the destiny of this great nation. But after yesterday I feel, for the first time, that my vote didn’t count.

This is a difficult concept to accept. I’m not saying that I’ll stop voting, I’ll continue to vote as it is a privilege to participate in government, but I don’t know what it’ll matter. Yesterday it would seem American’s voted less about what should be done and more about the things they are afraid of.  Six formerly Democratic states went Republican last night, including my beloved Illinois. This allowed the Republican Party to obtain a majority in the House. This sweeping change makes me worried for any possible growth or progress.

Fear is the enemy of progress; be it scientifically or socially. It is fear that has kept America from embracing its destiny as the true beacon of hope and civility for the world. I hope our newly elected representatives do not keep Americans afraid of each other and of the real world. I hope that they strive for compromise in areas, where for far too long, there has been none.

I hope sanity amongst the electorate is the desire. I hope the governing body we’ve elected work together on the serious economic concerns of regular Americans. I do not want to see another upper class tax break or more ridiculous devotion to “trickle down” economics. We’ve seen that just doesn’t work no matter who the majority is. I hope Education and comprehensive healthcare is seriously reviewed with an eye for what would be best for the least of our society.  

In light of this governmental change I still have faith in this republic we hold so dear and I hope reason and accountability rule the days ahead.  I’m optimistic, but I’m still wringing my hands and biting my fingernails.

Nightmare or not....?

I woke this morning from a very confusing dream. Something tragic had happened on a very large scale somewhere in the city. I’m not sure of the level of catastrophe; dreams are often so vague on the details. But the scale of destruction was massive and there were people running everywhere and debris scattered about. I do think I saw the shattered corpses of Bo and Luke Duke from the Dukes of Hazard as well. I’m not quite sure what they were doing there but apparently there was one muddy embankment they couldn’t get the General Lee over.

Anyway, this massive catastrophe was winding down and it seemed the initial danger stages were over and people were milling about, looking for each other.  I found myself standing on the sidewalk in front a large row of lobby windows and doors of a tall office building. Inside the lobby I could make out my mother and sister. There were a lot of people shoving about outside and inside so I stepped to the side to keep my eye on the two of them. I was washed over with relief that I had found them. They hadn’t spotted me yet but they were clearly looking for someone.

I looked at the lobby doors and it didn’t seem like I could get in. There was a skinny old guard standing at the door nearest to me and it didn’t seem like he wanted me to come in. I think I might have been smoking in my dream and since you can’t smoke anywhere inside anymore I thought maybe he was frowning at me for smoking so I had better just stay out here until I was done.

I was able to see my mother and sister still from where I was but then I got the sense that they were waiting for someone, but that someone wasn’t me. They weren’t looking out toward the people on the sidewalk outside the building, but had their eyes on the interior of the building. I started to think that maybe they weren’t looking for me. I stepped a little closer to the glass to get a good view and that’s when I saw my Mother’s Father, my grandfather, approach my mother and sister and give them both a hug. My grandfather has been deceased since the early 1980’s. They all seemed so happy to see each other. I was waiting for them, for my grandfather to see me at the doors and come over and get me too. But I started to get nervous, that they wouldn’t see me and they’d go away, or maybe they wouldn’t let me in the building for some reason….

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP…… God damn alarm started blaring in my ear. I slapped the snooze and tried to get back to the dream. I tried to squeeze my eyes shut as tight as I could and put myself right back in front of that building, but it was too late. The dream had passed. I got up and thought, well, that was sad. I would have liked to see my Grandfather. I tried to get passed it and started to get ready for work and it occurred to me there might be another meaning to the dream.

It seemed that the scale of destruction outside the dream building was pretty massive and it started to make me wonder that maybe I wasn’t able to enter the building because I was still alive and maybe everyone in the building wasn’t. Well, that was just too depressing to think about but I guess I took some comfort in the fact that my grandfather was there to meet my mother and sister. Who apparently, didn’t make it out of the chaos of the event.    

So the dream was both terrifying and sad, but then I felt that it might have some hint of hope to it, that in the end, everything is at it should be and we’ll see all those we’ve lost or long for again. No matter what though, I sure do love them. 

Or I watched way too much about the afterlife on the History channel this past weekend and it got the old dream box churning.