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This is my blog. I just went through a divorce; it was the worst thing that has yet to happen to me. This is me dealing with it and life. It's my blog; I write about what I want. I hope you enjoy. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** The above was me about three years ago. It is the most up to date digital photo I have.
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| What a bad day. Overtime has been cancelled, but production needs to be doubled. So, I need to do more in less time. Corporate America, anyone? Oh well, time to get creative in my spending. Avoid the Credit Cards is now my mantra. I think that I can do it. Hopefully, the August heat will break soon. I am still working on my 60's entry. I wrote it out last night, and it was pure shit. I could have thrown eggs at the blank piece of paper and come up with a better blog. So, I didn't post it today. Still working. I am working on another post for today. It is hush, hush. Today's Useless Bit of Trivia: The name of the Theme song for MASH is Suicide is painless. I was amazed, but it is right there in the credits for the movie. Weird, huh? Grifter Courage doesn't roar. It's that quiet voice at the end of the day that whispers, "I will begin again, tomorrow." |
| For some reason, the 1960's have been prominent in my life lately. No, I wasn't alive during the age of Aquarius, but it is pressing its old, graying ass into my life right now. I watched MASH the movie this weekend, which is a great movie. I am listening to Lewis Black read a book he wrote, which he recounts his ...60's experience. I am trying to lay down a blog entry based on how the 60's has affected my generation, but I am having a hard time. I want to include how drug use is rampant and more acceptable because of the 1960's. Anti-authoritarianism at any cost is the mantra of a lot of my generation. Reporters who believe they can influence the course of a war and government policy. The idea that the government is a small cabal that shapes the world instead of being a huge mass of everyday people just trying to feed their families. Plus, let's face it; with any mob, it is only as smart as its dumbest member. Doesn't that explain how some of those agencies work? So, some thoughts are rumbling around my head. I just need to make the effort to put them together in a cohesive attempt at an intelligent blog post. Have a groovy day! Grifter Courage doesn't roar. It's that quiet voice at the end of the day that whispers, "I will begin again, tomorrow." |
Continued!!!!! Wooo-Hooo!!!! They continued overtime for my program; so, I celebrated by working an extra two hours yesterday. I also celebrated by getting a haircut. I was beginning to get into the frizzy 'fro zone of hair length. The gal was a chatty Cathy, and boom, she cut my hair way too short. She then proceeded to act like nothing happened. I was in such a good mood that I suppressed my giggles. I still tipped her because she was looking like she had a bad day. Now, either she was a good actor or having a bad day. Judging from the guy who walked out before me, she was having a bad day. By then, it was too late for me to cook something, and cereal for dinner did not sound good. So, I stopped by Hardee's (also known as Carl's Junior) for the first time in a year. It wasn't very good, but nothing could ruin my good mood. When I finally got home last night, I fed the babies. They got a little celebration, too, because Dad still has overtime. They got a little dish of milk a piece. It was just a tiny little bit, but enough to make the room rumble with purrs! Finally, after sitting down with a good book, I fell asleep, face first, into the pages of my book. I woke up rubbing my forward as it banged onto the table in front of me. So, I packed up the book, crawled into bed and dreamt of nothing. I woke to my shy kitty, Saleen, meowing for attention and love. She got her attention, and I woke content. Now, to do it all over again, today. Also, thanks for the sig sweett!!! And thank you to everyone who sent out good thoughts. I really appreciate them! Grifter Courage doesn't roar. It's that quiet voice at the end of the day that whispers, "I will begin again, tomorrow." |
| In a half hour, I have an all hands meeting. I am a little concerned about it. I think that our manager is going to rescind our overtime pay. This will be very bad for me. I have been having to pay for part of my wife's stuff. She is not keeping up with some of the payments she is responsible for. I have been making ends meet, but it has been rough. Hopefully, the rumors are all false, and overtime is still an option. I have been working on scaling back my expenses. I have been using coupons, and for most of the summer, I went without A/C to keep the utilities low. August, however, finally beat me. I had to get A/C or risk a heat stroke while sleeping. I have been going to the library more and Barnes and Noble less. I have been weighing the per unit costs of all my food, and if I go out to eat or the movies, I give it a couple days thought to make sure that I am not just spending to spend. It has been a lot of fun. I have been having more fun cutting back on my expenses than when I spend at full tilt. I am a little sad that this divorce has put me in the financial position I am in, but when I was married, I didn't set up the bills with a divorce in mind. However, I seem to be doing okay. I am not in foreclosure, and I am still not using my credit cards. From this, I will be set when my divorce is final. My expenses will drop dramatically when I can sell my house. I can then get cheaper living and still live a more frugal life. I am kind of excited when I think about it. I don't require very much in day to day living. I can get by on very little, and it is a great game to find the most for the least. But, it would be great if they didn't cancel overtime. Wish me luck! Grifter Courage doesn't roar. It's that quiet voice at the end of the day that whispers, "I will begin again, tomorrow." |
| Normally, I try to keep a clean, family friendly blog. However, I know myself; so, I rated my blog 18+. You know when I cuss that way I am not corrupting any youths of the world. However, yesterday, sweett & bugsy turned my comment room, yesterday, into...well, a more adult comment room. Somehow, my violent post of yesterday was turned into a love fest. I think it was bugsy who switched all the light bulbs to red and hung beads over the doorway. Someone brought along a lava lamp, and I think it was sweett who put Marvin Gaye's Let's Get It On on the stereo. I felt like I was in a trashy romance novel, and of course, I loved every minute of it. Now that it is the day after and my blog is now a man, I just can't help but tearing up when I think of the more innocent days of my blog, when the world made sense. Back in the days before I longed to hear adult comments in every entry. And nobody even bought me dinner or got me drunk beforehand. I feel so used. And, of course, I loved every minute of it. Tonight, at my friend's birthday party, I will toast a drink to more innocent days and say good riddance. Here's to bright new horizon's of having a big boy blog! Waaaahooooo! Grifter |
| Usually, I do not bring up my MMA experience with people because when I relate my stories, I get put in the "must be a violent, lunatic" bin. Any type of sport fighting tends to draw people who only know violence. The ignorant, testosterone junkies who believe slapping a woman makes them men, flock towards sport fighting because it is fighting. However, not everyone associated with sport fighting is a violent lunatic or a wife beater. During my MMA days, I met more of these idiots than I care to mention. And sweett is right, from the moment they open their mouths, you can tell they are losers. Usually, you can tell before hand from the way they handle themselves. They act like they are God's gift to the earth. They are the same jerks that people run into day after day. However, NOT all MMA fighters and fans are that way. In fact, most of my favorite fighters are college educated, down to earth folks. My favorite fighter works on his parent's farm in central Illinois when he is not training. He can be cocky and arrogant before a fight, but afterwards, he hugs his opponent and gives them recognition for a good performance. Most of the people who make it to the top of the game are this way. The fans range from all over. You have the thugs and psychos, but you have normal people, too. Engineers, accountants, doctors and professors watch and enjoy these matches. You don't have to have a screw loose to enjoy these matches. The claim has been made that a similiar sport existed during the ancient Olympics. Pankration is a Greek martial art that combined Greco-Roman wrestling (although, at the time, I betting it was just Greco) and a Greek style of boxing. I really enjoy the sport because of my background and history with it. I understand and appreciate the strategies and techniques associated with the sport. It is amazing the training that these athletes go through. The physical conditioning that some of these guys put themselves through would astound anyone. My favorite fighter had a schedule of two hours of cardio and weight training, two hours stand up fighting training, two hours of wrestling and an hour of submission training each day. Then he taught martial arts classes for two hours a night. I have watched these fights for a decade now. I trained for two years in this sport. I have never started a fight. At any of the shows I have been at, I have never seen any fights outside of the ring. In fact, from my experience, going to these shows is safer than going to a bar. I have been attacked by people that I know do not watch or enjoy MMA. A friend of mine, who hid his issues well, attacked me one night at a bar because I was not ready to leave when he was. I know for certain that he doesn't watch MMA or boxing because they are too violent. He preferred baseball. How's that for irony? If people have to fight (and it seems some have to), then it is best done by two consenting adults with a referee to make sure it doesn't go two far. Rules and a referree are essential. However, that means facing yourself and maybe getting beaten up. The ignorant, violent lunatics cannot handle this. So, they take their weak minds and overly large egos/pride and go elsewhere to make themselves feel like men. But a real man doesn't need to hit anybody feel better about themselves. Sounds ironic when talking about sport fighting. However, the difference to me is that some people do it because it is a sport. Basically, MMA does not create violence. The idiots who would do others harm exist everywhere in the world and society with or without sport fighting. And it is possible to watch and enjoy sport fighting without being a fighter or starting fights. As with most of society, a few bad apples tend to stand out and take all the attention away from the quiet, normal people. Please, don't lump us all into the violent ignorant category just because we enjoy a sport. Grifter Courage doesn't roar. It's that quiet voice at the end of the day that whispers, "I will begin again, tomorrow." |
| Mixed martial arts (MMA) is the best and most brutal sport in the world. It combines all the aspects of boxing, wrestling, kickboxing and jiu-jitsu/judo. It is fast, violent and strangely intelligent. It started as a "no-rules" competition, but it has evolved into a legitimate sport with rules. It has received sanctioning from the Nevada State Athletic Commision, and it is huge in Japan. The premise is simple; two men (or women) enter a ring and try to force their will on the other person. The ways to win are by knockout, submission (giving up, tapping out, etc.) or judges decision. I got involved in this sport in 1997 when it was still underground and illegal. A friend of mine at Eastern Illinois University trained in it. He taught self defense classes, and he invited certain people to come train with him. I and my roommate got invited. We entered a new martial arts world where the master was constantly challenged. You didn't earn your rank by memorizing a dozen preset patterns and how to count to ten in Japanese. You earned your place by beating in single competition those better than you. Needless to say, when I started learning this new stuff. I got my rear end handed to me time and time again. Training was three hours on Saturday and two hours Tuesday night. We started out learning jiu-jitsu and wrestling. We learned how to choke our opponents, crank their necks, hyperextend their joints and control their movements on the ground. I loved learning these new martial arts moves, and I was impressed at how much thinking it takes to wrestle and grapple. Everybody knows the same moves that you know; so, in order to catch them in those moves, you have to set them up. It was like living chess. I had to throw five or six different moves at an opponent hoping to catch them with the last submission. When my roommate and I were mediocre on the ground, we started learning how to punch and kick someone on the ground. Yes, there is a right way. If you punch straight down and the opponent moves, you can break your hand on the pavement. The ultimate objective was to catch an opponent in a submission hold; punching and kicking were just means to that end. To do this sport, a person has to be in incredible shape. One of the drills that we did was called ring of fire or circle of death, whatever we labeled it that week. Essentially, one person is on the mat, and that person has two minutes to submit someone before the next person jumped in to wrestle. There were seven of us; if I didn't submit anyone, that was twelve straight minutes wrestling. I wasn't good enough to submit my friends the first time I did it; so, I wrestled for twelve minutes straight. It drained me of every ounce of strength that I had. I crawled away from the mat at the end of my twelve minutes. I got about five feet away, sat up and started crying. I was not sobbing. I just sat there with my mouth hanging open tears rolling down my cheeks. I was too tired to vomit or do anything else. Strangely, no one said anything. These people laughed at the movie Fight Club because it wasn't that realistic. These are people that will fight anyone who steps up to the plate. (My friends, typically, never started any fights; though, they did finish one or two.) These were some of the toughest, meanest people that I have ever met, and they let me sit there with tears coming out. They knew that I had given everything I could. I fought constantly for every minute in that ring. I had left everything I had on that mat. It was getting close to my turn to get back on the new guy in the ring. So, I stood up, by pure will alone, walked to the bathroom and puked my guts out. I washed my mouth as best as I could, and wrestled for another two minutes. I got better, but I lacked the "killer instint." So, I could never be very good at it because I couldn't set aside the face that I was beating the crap out of a person. I am not violent at all; thus, I never could access my aggression. But it was a great experience. I hung out and trained with that group until I transferred to the University of Missouri - Rolla. I trained with some guys at Rolla, but it was never the same as at Eastern. I developed some issues with my eyes, so I had to give up martial arts all together. I still enjoy watching MMA shows; they are the best on the planet. I would highly recommend them to any fan of boxing. MMA is the best sport on the planet. Training it was hard on the body, but it showed me what my mind could do. That is why I like it. This sport proves that the human mind can push through any punishment the body takes. I know because my mind pushed me when I normally would have given up. Grifter Courage doesn't roar. It's that quiet voice at the end of the day that whispers, "I will begin again, tomorrow." |
| Well, I stayed home from work today due to car troubles. A bug clogged my air intake sensor, and my car thought it was running rich. So, I had to pay $50 to get it cleaned. Oh well, I got a day off. I had something that I wanted to write about today, but I am feeling lazy. So, I will just write whatever I feel like. Saleen, my sick cat, seems to be feeling great. I haven't found any more piles of sick, Thank God. She thanks you all for your warm thoughts. She is most appreciative that you made her Dad feel better. Nelly will soon be pulling out of the running for Congress (although I will leave up the nice graphic). Apparently, some reporter has dug up her racial prejudice against rabbits. So, she is going to bow out. Her addiction to chasing bunnies has led her to a friendship with Hugh Hefner, though. I wonder how long that will last when Nelly pounces out of the grass onto one of his bunnies. I put a picture up on my blog. It is older, but all I got digitally. People have been kind in their reviews of my mug. Isn't amazing how I get good responses from people nowhere even close to my home, but the people around here? Nothing!!! Oh well, try, try again. In high school, I studied Taoism a lot. It is an Eastern philosophy based on the oneness of the universe. The best example of how the philosophy works is when you lose your keys (or vibe, Nada   ), you only find it when you are not looking for it. To paraphrase part of the philosophy, those who seek do not find, and those who find, do not seek. In this wonderfully mystic tradition, I give up seeking women in order to find them!!!!Okay, so that last sentence was not quite serious. I am learning to be okay being alone (with two cats), and that has actually been fun. Now that I am alone, I can practice my golf swing naked. Believe me, it isn't any prettier with or without clothes. I can put the mail on the counter, not in the mail basket! (That's right, I am a damn rebel.) Finally, I can even drink O.J. RIGHT OUT OF THE BOTTLE!. Yeah, you're jealous!  Grifter |
| When I was in the seventh grade, I spent the mornings of that summer with a Korean war vet. He was a farmer who was good friends with my grandfather. He needed help "walking" his beans. So, every morning, my cousin and I would get the weed hooks from Grandpa's barn and drive the back roads to his farm. We would then all walk the soybean fields and cut out the weeds. You do this when the soybeans start growing. Soybeans spread out like weeds. So, we would walk the fields when the plants were too tall to get a sprayer in there. For two - three hours every morning, the three of us would walk the fields. We were paid for the work but not much. We didn't care. We knew he had health problems, and he didn't have to pay us anything. Like most farmers, he believed in honest pay for honest work. Grandpa would cover the wages that we lost by working for his friend. However, my cousin and I didn't care about the money. He told us stories, and he inspired us. For ten to fifteen hours a week, I would listen to this old coot talk about the war and how the army made him a man. My cousin, Shawn, and I had always been instilled with a respect for the nation's military. My grandfather and his children missed all the wars through sheer luck of birth, and none entered military service. However, they never failed to drill into our little psyche's admiration for the men and women who donned the olive drabs to serve and defend our great nation. Listening to the old farmer just pushed us to both want to enlist. When my cousin was 18, he tried to enlist, but he was washed out for medical reasons. This was a huge blow to him, and it affected him for years afterwards. In High School, I took the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery (ASVAB) test. I did very well, and when I spoke with a recruiter, he told me that I could name where I wanted to go (outside of the academies), and I would be in. I wanted to be a jet fighter pilot. Only one problem, asthma has been my Achilles' heel all of my life. Most things, I could just fight through it. Mentally, I was tougher than my asthma as long as I was taking my daily medications. With a fighter pilot, no health issues, not even corrective lens, can be present. So, the recruiter dashed my hopes of becoming a fighter pilot. My mom, being the worrier she is, didn't want me to go into the Armed Forces. She told me once that she would kidnap me to Canada before she let me join. We didn't talk for a couple days after that. Her and Dad were with me at the recruiters. They knew that I was heart broken because I would never fly the F-15E Eagle. I wanted to fly that jet more than I wanted to date Cindy Crawford, which at the time was a lot. So, they recommended that I wait before I sign up. I should have a clear head to pick what course I wanted to follow. While I was crushed, my mom went to work on me. She was concerned for my safety. She worked for a Marine Recon veteran for 18 years (more than my whole life, at the time), and he told her horror stories of Vietnam. She was scared to death that I would get involved in something like that. She ended up changing my mind about enlisting. I never did. That is the biggest regret of my life. I only have two regrets. (The other involves, also, being talked out of what I knew was the right thing to do.) I don't blame her because I have heard some of her bosses stories. They aren't pretty, and she was scared for her child. It was my decision, and at the time, I made it as best as I could. Now, I realize that it was wrong. If I were given a do-over, I would only change this one thing. Later on, during my graduate studies, I thought of joining, again. I still had asthma, and now, I was legally blind in one eye. I was told by some of the reserve officer training corps (ROTC) instructors on campus that I had virtually no chance because of my eyesight and need for an inhaler. So, even if I had signed up back in High School, I probably never would have had a career. But I would have served. I never did get to fly the F-15E, but I did get to design some parts for her. She is the best fighter on the planet for me. Sure the F-22 is cool, and the Joint Strike Fighter is versital. But, the F-15E Eagle has the prettiest lines, the most munition capacity and it looks cool as a screen saver. I see soldiers nearly every day at work, and I can never thank them enough for volunteering for the country they love. Now, I try to serve my country in other ways, giving blood, helping out with the Red Cross. But none of it will ever make up for that one mistake. I try to live life without regrets. I don't regret my marriage or my divorce; I don't regret all the debt acquired for that extra year and a half of college. I don't regret all the money wasted on gals' with pretty smiles. I do regret that I let myself be talked out of service. So, that is one of my crosses to bear, and maybe, it is time to make peace with it and lay it down. No matter how much I wish I could change the past, I cannot. All I can do for the troops now is support them and help design the best equipment to keep them safe. Grifter |
| My poor cat Saleen might be sick. She has been vomiting a lot lately. She usually does it once a month, but lately, she has been doing it a lot, once per day. However, with each day, the amount is smaller while her appetite has not gone down. I think that she just eats until her stomach is full and then keeps going. She is not acting sick. She still plays and runs around the house. Her appetite is the same as always, and she doesn't act like anything is wrong. I am hoping that she just ate something that didn't agree with her. Last night, I found her chewing on a sick from the fireplace, so she isn't a discriminate diner. And the amount of sick is getting smaller each day, so maybe she is getting it out of her system. Monday, I will have to make a vet appointment for her. I am worried about her because these cats have made separation much, much easier. She means the world to me. Wherever I walk in the house, the patter of four little paws follow me. Saleen likes to be in whatever room that I am in. Nelly does her own thing, and I have to give her a prescribed amount of attention each day. However, Saleen is moody. She lets me pet her for a few seconds, and then she goes running. But at odd times, she will come sit on my lap. I can't pet her while she is on my lap, but she will sit there and look pretty. I love both my cats, but they are high maintenance gals. One of the books that I read said that the cat lets the guy stay at his apartment. That is how my house works. I don't own the house, the cats do. I just pay rent. I have to leave town today, so I left them food and water. Hopefully, when I get home tomorrow, hopefully, she will not have gotten sick. Grifter |
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