There's no business like snow business

I can appreciate the magic and wonder of a lazy winter snowfall. I can ponder the endless variations of snowflake design as they gently tumble to the ground and cover everything in clean white. 

What I can’t tolerate is driving in it.  Well, that’s not a hundred percent accurate. I can’t stand other people driving in it. When the snow is coming down and the roads are pretty bad, is there a reason to tailgate me? Am I driving too safe for you Mad Max? Is it a rental car you’re driving like a bat out of hell so you couldn’t care less if you swerve into something or somebody? Take it easy Mac.

It’s nerve wracking enough to drive on the highways when they haven’t been salted or plowed yet. No one needs that added pressure of Johnny Speed demon and his hell mobile bearing down on the rear bumper. That’s just stupid, so slow it down out there. I’d rather go a little slower and arrive alive than go really fast and wake up in heaven. (Cause I’m going to heaven for being a great driver)

I do miss actually enjoying the snow however. I remember being a child and playing out in the snow for hours and actually enjoying it. I remember building snowpeople and forts and caches of S.M.D.’s (Snowballs of Mass Destruction) and going to war.  Well, it was always less of a war and more of a conflict resolution strategy. Anyway, I do miss playing in the snow.

It’s important to have a sense of nostalgia about playing in the snow. As a grown person; I have no burning desire to roll around in the cold, wet snow for hours. I might screw around with a girl in a playful, snow romance (snowmance) way for a few minutes, but I’m not going to spend much time constructing an elaborate fortification to defend my territory from invading Postmen and neighbors.

Playing in the snow is certainly for the imaginative child and I say let them have it, all of it. In fact, maybe we should put them in charge of plowing the highways. Wouldn’t that be awesome? 40 big wheels with snow plows on the front, scrambling down the Edens. I suspect the snow tolls (Snowlls) would be pretty expensive though. Me without snowbucks.

Not something I’ve weighed in on…. Till now of course

I haven’t weighed in on this terrible shooting in Arizona and I’m not sure what I could add to the conversation. I can condemn the use of violence in response to political vitriol. But that’s about the extent of it I think. I think there have been enough talking heads and pundits saying enough to last us a while.

I tend to wonder how violent acts in our history have changed the political landscape. Let’s start with England’s Guy Fawkes. He of course was wildly unsuccessful in blowing up Parliament and assassinating the Protestant King in the hopes of establishing a Catholic English King, but his name is still synonymous with a desire for political change through rather excessive means.   He was just one of 13 actual conspirators, but he’s the one most remembered, likely because he jumped to his own death on the gallows. He didn’t wait for the noose. He launched himself from the platform and broke his neck when he hit the ground. Take that your highness!

I respect political idealism and the freedoms associated with it. We have every wonderful right to disagree with each other in this country. That’s one of the things that make us so awesome. It’s just too bad that sometimes people aren’t able to use their words successfully and end up going on a wild and irresponsible spree of some kind.  I don’t know what kind of problems the young shooter in Arizona had. It’s likely he was quite mentally ill and his motives were far more personal than politically motivated. Maybe his dog told him to do it.

An assassination started World War I, or else certainly lit the fuse. Gavrilo Princip, killed Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria. This politically motivated assassination led to one the most terrible and life costing conflicts in human history. The results of WWI led to the start of WWII and European relations for years to come.

American’s only have to look as far back as JFK, RFK or even MLK, to get a sense of what an assassin’s bullet can do to the political landscape of a country. I often wonder how different the world might be today if both Kennedy’s and Martin Luther King Jr., had lived.

There’s no way to tell at this time how this particular loon’s bullet will affect the course of our country. But if history has really shown us anything, things always change. I simply hope reasonable and rational minds prevail; and those that need help dealing with any thoughts of assassination or talking politics through the barrel of a gun get the help they need.

Unrequited Potential

I should be doing something else with my life. This job I have is making me feel sick. Do you remember Joe Versus the Volcano? That’s how I feel, like Joe. The fluorescent lights in here are killing me. There’s very little beauty around my crappy little cardboard and carpet looking cubicle.

I get to wondering why I haven’t been promoted and then it occurs to me in a flash. I hate this. I hate what I do.  I feel dirty and worn out. I feel like those old gym shoes, the ones you wore five years ago and had all kinds of adventures on, but now just don’t have the heart to throw away because you’ve been through so much together. So I sit in the dark closet, slowly falling to pieces while your new gym shoes have all the fun.

This hatred for ones career forces you to look back and try to figure out where it went wrong. When I was young I thought I would be a famous actor. I thought I’d be a big star and there’d be posters of my movies on the bedroom walls of the children of my former classmates. So I didn’t really study for anything else. I had no other plans, no fall back career ideas.  I really thought I was going to be an actor. But then I discovered that my heart wasn’t what it needed to be in order to be successful at it. So, with no back-up plan, I wound up in the insurance industry.  I thought I’d just do it for a while until I discovered fame somewhere else. It was always just a job and nothing more.

As I sit here now, working this out, one word pops into my head, “Passion”. What am I passionate about? What really moves me? Motivates me to do something? And I can’t think of anything. It’s pretty amazing that I’ve made it this far in my life and yet feel less than mediocre about my position in it.  I think my greatest motivating factor is just not to be hassled by anything.  Yeah, don’t hassle me. I’ll move mountains not to be hassled with. (What an odd word. Hassle).

I’ve allowed myself to become stagnant. I’m covered with rotting mold and the smell is clouding my brain. If only some millionaire would pay me millions of dollars to jump into a Volcano, which inexplicably spits me out onto some very expense luggage in the sea with a pretty Meg Ryan. Let’s face it she looks like Mum-Ra now. (What happened Meg?)

At least I’m writing with more frequency thanks to this blogging thing. I appreciate those that read my ramblings and hope they can see or feel a little of themselves in my incessant whining. I sure do whine a lot. So I appreciate your patience as I sort through the shambling, doddering, complaining old man that appears to be my emotional content. We’re going somewhere I’m sure, I just can’t see it on the map.

He threw his clock out the window

Yes, time sure does fly. One of my greatest friends is turning 35 years old today. He mentioned to me, “Hey, remember when that was old”.  I do remember when someone that old would talk to us when we were teenagers. 35 seemed a million years away. As it turned out, it wasn’t a million years away, but certainly a million experiences.

It’s funny how your memory gets longer as your life gets shorter. Thank you Mr. Van Halen, for that little nugget of wisdom; courtesy of the old Right Now video. See, we’re old enough to remember that video. Actually we can remember a time before MTV for that matter.  Of course MTV doesn’t even play videos anymore so I guess there’s a whole new generation that has no idea what music television is all about.

How do you explain that to a kid?

“What does the M in MTV stand for?” Asked little Johnny.

“It stands for Music, as in Music Television”, I replied.

“Music television? What’s that? All that station ever shows are muscle bound idiots and sluts drinking their faces off in places like Miami or Atlantic City”. Replied little Johnny.

“Well, once upon a time they showed music videos”.

“What’s a music video?”

I think I’ve made my point. Poor little Johnny. Never to have known the joy of that new Peter Gabriel video or the sexual innuendos of Great White; how tragic. Poor little Johnny. Well, at least he has the interweb to look up those dinosaurs.

I digress, there are so many experiences that have made up our history and it is fun to remember them when one hits a milestone birthday like 35. Hundreds of years ago you were damn lucky to even make it to 35 years old, and if you did you were the town elder. You probably needed a cane to walk and your hair was completely gray back then.      

Here’s to experience. May it bless us all with millions more opportunities to stretch our memories.

Muertes de ave Misteriosas

I love a good mystery. I especially love ones that involve the natural world. (Opposed to the unnatural world we live in). Recently there was a fantastic real natural mystery regarding the deaths of 5500 birds in Arkansas and Louisiana. It’s a bizarre phenomenon wherein these birds, either flustered by a storm or fireworks all panicked and flew to their deaths on New Year’s Eve.

Such a massive roost suddenly expiring has all the queer beginnings of a Stephen King story. (If he hasn’t written it already).  It also adds fodder for the “End of the World approaching”, prognosticators and/or the Alien conspiracy nuts. It is compelling to think about. What if all those birds, normally up in the trees at night, are surprised by a giant UFO and in their fright begin flying around in a crazed tear and wound up whamming into the  hovering UFO?

I wonder if the Mayans predicted this bird death thing in their Doomsday calendar of events. I’m sure there are religious persons who feel these bird deaths are only the beginning of the end. Is this the first stage of the “end times”? If it is, then I really did pick the wrong time to quit smoking.

I suppose if 80 whales suddenly beached themselves with crudely written signs reading, “Repant Now”, I might be more willing to believe that something apocalyptic might be occurring.  When presented with this thought, my friend Joe said, “Well, that will certainly drive down the cost of Whale Lamp oil”.

But I have a hard time believing that there’s anything really crazy going on. I really think these birds became startled and simply reacted the way they have through thousands of years of evolution and tried to get away. They are not great night fliers and ended up crashing into things. It’s unfortunate and curious but it’s nothing ominous.

If you’re a little more superstitious, apparently everything birds are involved with are Death Omens. Bird at the window?  Death Omen. Bird over the chimney? Death Omen. And so on and so forth.  5500 birds suddenly cashing it in, now that’s a bad Omen.

Is it a mystery after all? Are the deaths of 5500 birds that much of a real mystery, perhaps not.   A natural explanation is the most likely, but wouldn’t it be a little fun if there were a little more meaning to it? It might be scary fun, but fun nonetheless.

Et tu, Tuesday

It’s a very peculiar day. It just seemed as if everyone on the Edens this morning didn’t have any particular place to be. I was amazed that every vehicle I got behind was content to cruise along at 50 MPH for some reason. I much prefer going at least 65 to 70 if I can, at least it’s trying to keep up with the flow of traffic. But this morning, no one seemed to be all that worried about it.

I suppose I can understand. I’m sure no one really was all that excited to get back to work this morning and they were just dragging their asses through the motions of being a productive member of society; a society that secretly hates you. I say that specifically thanks to the red light ticket/violation I received in the mail yesterday. I love Chicago and it’s been my home forever but I really can’t stand the extortion. It seems it’s illegal to make a right turn on red whether a sign is present or not. I didn’t know that.  It’s not a cheap violation either and for an already cash strapped populace; it’s just another sign that this society we’ve built hates us.

It certainly wasn’t news I wanted to receive three days into my nicotine withdrawal. I almost took a hostage after opening the notice. I calmed down soon enough and resisted the temptation to head over to the corner store any buy a pack of smokes. Take that Chicago! I won’t be paying that cigarette tax anymore! Ha. Oh, you’ll just bury me in parking tickets to make up for it? Damn you! Damn you all to Hell!

I certainly hope that someone starts taxing the crap out of down state Illinois and other municipalities for the water they get from Lake Michigan. Yes, Chicagoans feel like we own the whole lake and since we’re right up against it; we think our water should be free, while those in outlying areas should pay through the nose for it. Maybe that’s the revenue generator we’re looking for, instead of taxing and fining the crap out of ourselves. Let’s pass those fees on to the unsuspecting denizens of some other locality. Mmmwahhahahah!

Yeah, that is mean. Maybe we shouldn’t do that, (sigh). I guess I’ll just have to pay the fine and hope I can scrape enough cash together to make it till my next meager paycheck. There’s a lot more Tuesdays in store I suppose; with their steely knives.

New Years Stuff

It’s my third day without sweet, sweet nicotine. I’ve been pretty good so far. The extra oxygen in my blood stream is an interesting sensation for sure. As I lay down to go to bed last night I had a very curious time. I kept breathing without any difficulty and all the extra clean air seemed to ignite my senses. I’m not sure how stopping smoking effects ones hearing but I heard my alarm clocks for the first time in a long time this morning and I didn’t have any trouble getting out of bed and making it to work on time. 

I don’t know if I can attribute that to stopping smoking or a new sense of responsibility for 2011. I’m not getting any younger for sure and by stopping smoking I’ve likely significantly increased my lifespan, so I’ve got to start taking a little more serious approach with what the hell I’m going to do with all this life.

It’s too bad I still have no idea what to do with myself. Lately I’ve been looking for that special woman to spend my time with. (All that precious time.) I look forward to being a couple again. It’s been a long time for that. I’m starting to wonder about children too. Am I going to have any children and spread my wicked genetic seed through history? I’d like to for sure and part of me feels like time is running out. I’m sure it isn’t, but I just have a bad feeling.

I hope 2011 does bring a lot of answers to my questions. I hope 2011 is filled with fantastic opportunities that I’m not too cowardly to explore. There’s so much potential in new beginnings as long as you’re quick enough to see them. I hope I’m that brave and that swift.