Apparently "they" want me to work today

They’ve got some nerve asking me to do the job I actually get paid for. Who do they think they are? Well, I’ll show them. I’ll work really hard today and… ooh, something shiny.

“Does this make me look fat?”

It’s Fat Tuesday and for all us Christians out there it’s one last day of indulgence before we enter the Lenten season. Mardi Gras is actually translated to mean “Fat Tuesday”.  (Hm, somehow I always thought it meant something different.) I guess my French is a little rusty.  Anyway, tomorrow is Ash Wednesday and the start of Lent. A time of sacrifice and preparation for the events linked to the death and resurrection of Jesus. Although these days it just means the fish sandwich is back on the McDonald’s menu. 

I haven’t been what I would call a practicing Catholic for quite a while. Sure I still have my core faith beliefs but I don’t go to Church or make any extended offerings to the Catholic community. I have a deeply ingrained sense of my faith and do not feel the need to go through the formulaic rites associated with the Catholic Mass. I appreciate the moral compass my Catholic upbringing has instilled in me and I do try to live by those basic of Catholic teachings, “treat others as you would like to be treated”, and those famous words uttered by Jesus as he hung on the cross,  “Peter, I can see your house from here”.

I also appreciate the history of Catholicism. I wonder about its early days underground in the Roman Empire to the horrors of the Crusades and the Spanish Inquisitions. Through the Puritan and Protestant derivations to the current Evangelical applications, Catholicism has had quite a ride through history. Sometimes I’m not sure I can be part of a religion that killed and murdered its way through centuries of armed conflict. I sometimes think I’m somewhat of a Caddhist, a Catholic Buddhist hybrid.  I certainly believe in God but I don’t think it has any desire for us to cause harm to each other, or even to those that don’t believe in what I believe in. That whole vengeful God of the Old Testament just doesn’t seem like my kind of God. Plus all the self mutilation in the early Bible is a little too much to take.

 

“I am the Lord your God, now cut off the tip of your Penis. It will please me”. 

“I’m sorry Lord, did you just ask me to cut off the tip of my penis?”

“I did. Was I unclear?”

“No, no. I just… like how much of the tip?”

“Oh, just that little bit over the top, that extra skin… you know.”

“Yeah.”

“You know.”

“I got it Lord! Man.”

I digress, today is about letting yourself feel a little of that hedonism we so often deny ourselves as we try to follow our own moral compass. I’m not saying it’s time to rape and pillage like a Godless heathen, but I do think its chance to have a little fun with your faith and flash your boobs. (By the way I’m having a boob flashing party later tonight so feel free to stop by ladies. God told me it might be cool so…. you know.)  And no, you don’t look fat Tuesday.

Fahrenheit 451, ouch that’s hot

I had a dream last night that was quite similar to the plot of Fahrenheit 451. For those that are unfamiliar with it, a future government bans all books and reading because they feel an educated populace is too hard to control. If you are caught with books or reading a book the fire department was called and they came and burned your house down and all your books.  Then you would be dragged off into the night never to be seen again.  It’s a classic novel by Ray Bradbury, which was turned into a rather groovy movie in the 60’s.

My dream however seemed to take place in the present and seemed to document the slow rise of anti-intellectualism that sweeps across the country. (I might have been watching too much about Wisconsin government.) Somewhere in my mind I seemed to put together this idea that reading and learning was against the governments interests. That just like the book, the less people know the easier they are to control.  I remember dreaming that I couldn’t wait to get to a computer and start writing and expressing my extreme disgust with this practice.

I woke up with that thought still pounding away in my head and I was quite motivated, until I realized that I was just dreaming and reading wasn’t illegal. It did get me thinking again about our own government and their handling of the whole collective bargaining thing in Wisconsin. It got me thinking about Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address. He makes mention (and I’ll paraphrase) that this government is one “of the people, by the people and for the people”; any government institution that forgets who they work for and why is not deserving of our respect and should be heartily questioned. The people brought this government into existence, not the other way around. So we have the right to question and complain and demand reasonable answers.

So I have to ask the question and I don’t know if anyone has asked yet, is what they’re doing right and just for the people? Are the people’s best interests at the heart of this legislation? I haven’t heard anyone ask that. Or maybe I couldn’t hear it over the crackling of the flames speeding across the country, demolishing the words of reason and accountability.

Friday makes her move

Friday pushed the file cabinet closed and went back to her desk. She carried the large brown manila folder in two hands. It had put on quite a lot of weight over the years. She dumped it with a thud on her desktop and then dropped herself into her chair. She sighed and brushed her blonde hair out of her eyes. She wished she had some hair ties left. She always seemed to be running out of those darn things. She leaned over the folder and opened it to the first set of documents.  

The yellowed paper in the folder was almost brittle to the touch, but Friday had been thumbing through it for a very long time and she knew how to be delicate. Being delicate was one her specialties in fact. She had always been soft on those that needed it and there were so many that needed it. Each one of them was another piece of paper in her extensive collection of files. But they were more than just paper to her, she loved them.

Those she didn’t love were Monday’s problem.

Friday found the page she was looking for and bit her bottom lip as she thought about the last time they were together. It seemed like forever but it really had only been a week. She knew men loved her, she knew women loved her too, but this one was special. They had truly enjoyed each other and she was worried it was just a passing fancy. She shook her head at the silly thought. Of course they’d enjoyed each other. They’ve been enjoying each other for years and years. Then why was she suddenly worried about him?

She knew that crazy woman Saturday was always waiting to get her sweaty hands on him and sometimes she did. But Friday just didn’t want that to happen anymore. Friday wanted him all to herself and she finally thought she had a foolproof plan to make him hers forever.

She stood up from her desk and went to her window. It was raining out again. Friday thought she’d better have another talk with Mother Nature soon. That woman was totally out of control. She’s been PMS-ing for 65 million years or so and enough was enough. But for now, the rain was just fine; all for the better in Friday’s plan.  

He’ll never see Saturday again and Friday will have him always, now to work.

A few thoughts for Thursday

Please, women with children or babies at home who don’t get out of the house too often. There’s no need to party like a 1980’s glam rock star at the local bar on your first free night in a while.  Yes, we can all hear you and we know how much you enjoy the RUN-DMC/Areosmith version of Walk This Way. There’s no need to take your shoes off and try and dance on the bar in your sock feet. Did I mention there’s no need to scream everything you are saying; even though I have no idea what it is you are trying to say? But other than that, have a great time! Watch the highs and lows though. It’s hard to go from dancing on the bar and screaming like an air raid siren to crying in the arms of your friend.  But again, have fun and we hope to see you again soon.

Next,

Border’s and Bankruptcy, that is unfortunate.  They have a huge 20% off everything sale going on so I thought I’d take advantage of that and buy some new books and maybe some cheap CD’s. (Yes, I still buy CDs if I can) I spent an hour in the store yesterday browsing, picking things up and eventually finding four great books and 2 CDs. I took them to the register and the nice young lady rang them up and even with the discount it was still a hearty sum. I took out my checkbook (no I didn’t blow the dust off it. I do use it for my rent and such) and was about to write a check when the clerk stopped and said they can’t accept any personal checks. It would seem that they have no bank to deposit them in. She asked me if I had cash or a credit card. I said I didn’t want to put it on my credit card and I didn’t have that kind of cash on me, hence the check. She said she could take a few items off and maybe get it to an amount of cash I did have. I said that wasn’t the point. I need the cash for later. So I ended up leaving without buying anything.

I was pretty bummed out about that. I was really excited to have some new books and a Beatles CD I never had. Sigh, so goes the way of the local bookstore, like so many Dodo birds on the beach of extinction.

Thirdly,

Today is the 20 year anniversary of the beating of Rodney King by the Los Angeles Police Department. That means the LA Riots 20th anniversary is next year. I wonder how that will be commemorated. I will say however, that blurry video tape of Rodney King and the Police changed almost the whole of American society. It changed the relationship between the people and the police and the people and their justice system. What a decade the 1990’s were.

Finally,

So Happy It’s Thursday.

Escape from the Gulag

After six long years languishing in Deerfield I’m finally on my way back to the glittering beauty that is the City of Chicago. I recently received a promotion within my company and I’ll be transferring to our Downtown offices.  It’s hard to describe the joy I feel at my long absence from the city I love. I still live in the city proper but I had to commute out to the suburbs every dang day and it was a mind numbing experience. I was bound to a train schedule for five of those years until I finally had enough of it and started driving. Commuting on the train was only a 25 minute ride but you were beholden to the trains schedule and often times, their delays and accidents. The car ride could vary from 15 minutes to two hours.

I also forgot about the 13 months of unemployment and the year I spent at a Spring and Stamping Company in the neighborhood. So really it’s been eight years since I’ve worked downtown and I can’t wait to get back.

I love working downtown. You can’t help but feel like a part of the action; that every major development in the city could occur right outside the window. All the rally’s and events and shows and sunny days spent using the lunch hour to stroll about the town. I can’t wait for it. Oh, and all the pretty downtown girls.

It’s a funny thing to persevere for so long in this suburban gulag and feel like your life is just a waste and every dream and desire is slowly turning into ash. But with this great opportunity to return to the bustling city I feel reinvigorated. I feel like the sun will shine and everything just might work out okay.

I’m sure in three months I’ll be writing about how terrible the job is and how much I hate everyone riding the train and wondering why everything smell like urine. But for now, I’m pleased as punch. I can’t wait for the first after work drink with all my old friends who are still working downtown, maybe catch a show or a great meal. Suburban Deerfield just hasn’t been the same since they closed the Bennigan’s across the street three years ago.

The other plus is that I’ll be making slightly more money in this promotion and that’ll help out quite a bit. I’m barely scraping by as it is and any monetary increase is easily welcome.  So I’ll have to tough it out here in the Deerfield for another 30 days or so and then I’m off to the big city to re-conquer my lost empire.

All Hail the Return!

My, what a large planet you have

Last night I spent the majority of my evening watching the National Geographic Channel, or NatGeo as it’s called.  It’s always good to watch some of that stuff every once in a while and be reminded of how really huge Earth is.

Earth, while getting smaller in a communications and technology sense, is still really humongous. It’s a big place with an extensive collection of people, cultures and life. I was watching one show in particular, Explorer: The Lost Mummies of New Guinea. It followed a really lovely woman, who quickly won my heart, Ulla Lohmann, and her journey to Papua New Guinea to find these lost mummies. This woman was incredible. She’s a photographer and adventurer and brave. Really brave. It was something to watch her interact with the natives and really get them to open up to her about their culture.

In a broader sense however, while enamored by Ms. Lohmann, I was still amazed at this culture living barely a generation removed from wild savages in the jungles.  The tribe is called the Anga people and they are tropical dwellers who somehow developed a process for mummification in the dampness of the jungle. Mummification usually has to take place in very dry climates, like Egypt, but this culture figured out a way in their jungle environment to preserve their ancestors through mummification. It was amazing and I was just blown away that this culture even existed on this planet. Most cultures abandoned mummification long ago, likely due to the spread of Christianity in the world and burying the dead became a more common practice.

I had never heard of this tribe and my life would have likely gone on interrupted without hearing of them. But my mind was certainly affected; I was reminded of this precious oral and tribal history some cultures on Earth still have and this sense of being human. Even though I am culturally on a different planet than the Anga; I could clearly see their humanity and was easily touched by their desire to hold onto their cultural past and traditions. Their raw, untempered emotion was amazing to see.

When the tribal elder, Gemtasu, saw Ms. Lohmann after not seeing her for a number of years he openly wept with joy to see her again. He wept. He stood for the entire village to see and cried. Ms. Lohmann wiped the tears from his cheeks and I could feel his raw happiness. I was impressed with this small tribal people and felt a sense of loss for our own culture. I don’t think I’ve ever wept with joy, for any reason. I’m far to Victorian in my sensibilities to weep. Perhaps if I have a child I’ll be reduced to tears of joy but so far in my life I’ve not experienced that simple happiness. I felt the Anga people were somehow, luckier than me in my modern world.  I’m sure the idea of pain in the neck caused by stress is not one of their overwhelming problems.

I tried to imagine myself as some sort of worldly explorer and I just couldn’t do it. I won’t even go near a restaurant that has a funny smell. I couldn’t imagine myself squatting in the bush somewhere trying to experience a culture first hand. I’ve been made quite soft by this luxurious lifestyle. I’m what you would call institutionalized by my culture and the idea of even running barefoot anywhere scares the crap out of me. I might cut my foot, catch a disease and die and then giant jungle bugs would eat me. But I’m still filled with wonder and an eagerness to see this giant planet. I guess that’s why I’m happy I have cable. Take that Network sitcoms!

I suppose one day my adventurous side will come out and I’ll find myself scouring the Egyptian deserts searching for the Ark of the Covenant, but until then, I’ll be amazed at this planet from afar and keep my sense of wonder up my sleeve, right near where I should keep my heart.