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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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| My entry yesterday really got me thinking about my experiences in college. I loved college for many, many reasons. I loved partying and having a great time. As I have written before, I am engineer. I went to a college that was 85% engineers. The women were few and far between at school, and our little engineer brains told us to run rather than mumble awkward words to them. So that left two options really for Saturday night...study or drink. This would be the typical college options, but we were engineers. We figured out how to get drunk more efficiently. The people that I partied with drank a lot. I have actually done century club before going to the bars. (To clarify, century club is a shot of beer a minute for 100 minutes. Doesn't sound like much, but do the math. 1.5 ounces per shot, 12 ounces per can) A typical night was like this. We would start at the pre-party, and then head to the bar. If we could still do multi-variable calculus in our heads, then we weren't drunk enough to walk to the bars, which meant drink because we were walking anyways. Then, it was darts and socializing at the bar. Then, it was to the main party after we shut the bar down. The party was then followed by either a trip home or to Denny's. The bar itself was an amazing scene. It was located in the basement of a flower shop. The walls were painted white so that we could write lewd comments about your sister there. If we couldn't do it, we had to write about it. People would cluster in different areas of the bar like anywhere else. But the fun thing was that the few girls that were there, always had a protective cluster of guys around them. You could almost hear the grunting caveman attitudes. If you looked in their directions, the eyes of their "protectors" claimed possession over these meager females. On the rare occasion that a table of all women showed up, they were swarmed with guys. Now, this worked to their advantage because all their drinks were bought by some poor sap who had no chance of obtaining a real phone number. And the women at my school were protected. So few existed that we tended to keep each other in line. If one guy acted bad, there were plenty to take his place and kick his ass for giving us a bad name. We could walk to any bar in the area, or a taxi was $3 anywhere in town. So, we would get stupid drunk because we were stupid kids. When we would get home, food was a priority. I have woken up at the kitchen table with a bowl of spaghetti o's for a pillow. Let me tell you, that is a proud moment. I was in college to learn, to better myself, and I had reverted to childhood. That wasn't the only food that I used for a pillow either. Pizza is not a good one. I had a couple of weeks of zits from the greasy deliciousness. It looked like a rash cause it was one side of my face. Nope, it was just me passing out in my food like my newborn nephew. Now that I am older, I look back and think of what an idiot I was. It really is amazing that we didn't drink ourselves to death. I had so much fun, and I am grateful for that time in my life. Now, it is over. Now, anything beyond one bottle of wine or a six pack will destroy me. I can't come close to matching the consumption that I used to partake weekly and sometimes nightly. Two bottles of wine now will mean that I can't get farther than one room away from the restroom for the morning after. I would get very sick. Now, the eighth beer puts me to sleep faster than Ambien ever could. I wonder what I could have accomplished in life had I not destroyed those legions of brain cells. I might be able to make a right turn again. Making three lefts is just a pain in the ass. Maybe, I drank away my ability to talk to women. Well, that is what I tell myself. Yeah, I had it but pissed it away during all those drinking games. Well, wishful thinking...eh? Maybe, just maybe, had I not slaughtered those villages of brain cells, I could have found a decent way to end this blog entry. Grifter |
| Last night, I went to dinner with my soon to be ex-wife to discuss our financial settlement. We met for sushi...actually, makimono for the purists out there. She told me that she just got into her graduate program in pursuit of a master's degree. So, I bought us each a glass of champagne. The sushi place that we go makes sushi rolls, and I believe if I am art noveau enough, it is actually sushi fusion. Anyways, the meal that I get is asparagus with crab meat rolled inside a layer of rice and seaweed. On top rests a slice of tuna with eel sauce and a special house sauce. The house sauce is spicy, which I love. Spicy food is God's food. This dish is just spicy enough to get the mouth tingle, but it will not break anyone into a sweat. It will not cause digestive pyrotechnics. My wife does not like spicy foods, but she will eat a small portion of this sushi log. I gave her one cut of the sushi roll, and I put the wasabi on my roll. We sushi toasted her accomplishment. The wasabi on my roll made my mouth and sinuses tingle with spicy goodness, just the way I like it. We both reached for our sparkling wine to put out the fires in our respective mouths. My fire was from wasabi; hers was from the special sauce. An amazing thing happened, the wine lit up inside our mouths. It felt like a small fire of bubbles had erupted in my mouth. It was really neat because the wine was sweet. The spices changed our experience of the wine. We both enjoyed it. I liked it more than she did because she has a sweet tooth the size of Montana and doesn't like anything that takes away the sweet. I like to drink wine, and I don't pretend to be a wine nut. I know what I like, and I tend to stick to that. However, I have never had a wine experience like that. It was the best time that alcohol has given me while still sober. It was a refreshing experience to have a good time with wine and not wake up face down in a bowl of spaghetti o's at the kitchen table. (Tip: Three bottles of merlot and spaghetti o's taste great.) Grifter |
| Well, Father Time stopped by my house yesterday to go over his contract. I am really excited about this 25th hour, and I would love to follow through with it. Unfortunately, God cannot only create the universe; he can sew up an airtight contract. I thought maybe we would find a small loophole. There has to be wiggle room in this universe. How else would Rosie O'Donnell or Paris Hilton have come into existence? But no, the contract was tighter than my bosses wallet. So, instead, we got drunk. Father Time is not a drinker, let me tell you. He made up for it with great stories, though. We had it all wrong about the Romans, by the way. Their togas were actually pink before Caesar came along. He made an Imperial decree that white was the new pink, and everything had to change, even the paintings. It turned out he didn't think pink accented his hair well enough. Who would have thought? Also, did you know that in reality, the Boston Tea Party was an accident? Yeah, it was. A bunch of people at a Cowboys and Indians party got drunk and went looking for British pornography. When they couldn't find any, they rioted. Of course, afterwards they had to cover their tracks so they invented this whole revolutionary war thing. I tell ya, white landowners will do anything for dirty magazines. The final, fun fact that Father Time (or Papa T as I call him) told me is that JFK and Marilyn Monroe were great bridge partners. They never had an affair; they just liked to play cards. Marilyn actually came up with the original idea for the Bay of Pigs assault, but Kennedy had to put his own stamp on it, which just mucked up the whole thing. She didn't speak to him for a week, and then it was only because they had a bridge game together. It is funny how history gets written down isn't it. Who would have thought that all this was the real story? Okay, well, you got me. I might not be speaking entirely true. I never called Mr. Time Papa T. Whew! That feels good to get off my chest. Well, I got to get to work. Father Time and some of his friends are stopping by for Poker Night tonight. He said things between Oberon and Titania are kind of rocky. I think that she and I could really hit it off. Disclaimer: Sarcasm and imagination can be a dangerous thing. Grifter |
| Learning has always been the love of my life. Most people hate school, but I love it. I constantly think about going back to school, and since I graduated with my Master's I have been taking classes. I will always learn and take classes. It is just a passion of mine. When I worked for Ford, I had set myself up to get a Ph.D. in engineering from the University of Michigan. Instead, I came down to St. Louis to work for my current employer. My employer has one of the greatest benefits any company, anywhere could give their employees. This company believes in educating its employees. It will pay for classes for its employees. The only catch is that if the class is not related to your job, it is taxable above a certain amount. That catch is imposed by our friend Big Brother. So, I took advantage of the benefit because I had a bug up me bum to learn about Project Management. I know, it sounds boring. It is to most people. It is about organizing people and documenting lessons, which fits my personality. I am one of those people who like to think they are organized but really aren't. A lot of the notes I take at work are on sticky notes, and half of them get lost. The other half get shuffled by Loki, the trickster god. I am organized so he must be the one putting everything out of order. Last semester (January - May), I took a class in the field of Classics. It was Leadership and Warfare in the Classical World. It was a great class that focused on the Greeks and Romans with a little bit of other history thrown in for seasoning. As an engineer, I felt that my education was a little too technically biased. I did not get enough history to fill out my knowledge base. Now, I could have gotten more history classes, but I had to graduate and start getting money. So, I focused on getting out to pay back the first go 'round. Next semester, I am enrolled in two classes. I am taking a course on Fiction Writing, and Beginning French is the other class. I would love to learn lots and lots of foreign languages. I would like to learn French so that I can speak it when I visit Europe. I would also like to learn German and Russian. Why? They appeal to me for some reason. That's it. They appeal to me. Eventually, I am going to have to pursue a Ph.D. In what? I have no friggin' clue. Engineering would be the logical choice, but I plan on being an engineer for most of my career. It is my wishes to be a drone for my current employer so that I may take advantage of their lucrative education policy. So, I don't know if engineering will be my Ph.D. pursuit. It could be, but for now, that is on the back burner. I have looked into getting a Juris Doctorate, also known as a law degree. I can almost hear the eyes rolling. I know, I know, not another lawyer. It would be a night degree, and I would like to study international corporate law or international taxation law. Something that involves an international component would be ideal. If I did get a law degree, I would apply to the law department of this company. Since it is an international importer and exporter, this company has a need for lawyers to deal with export regulations. To get a degree in law, I would have to go to school four nights a week for four years. My portion of the bill would be taxes in the range of $10,000 a year!!! So, I have to look at my life, my finances and my wants to see if I am able to invest that much time, effort and money in pursuit of a new degree. Also, I need to determine if this is something that I am truly interested in. I am interested in it, but I also want to learn French; I want to write fiction; and I want to learn about business. I want to get back into Real Estate Investing, also. In other words, I have no idea what I want to pursue. I know what I want to do, but I just don't know what is most important. I guess I will have to put down what is most important or find out a way to roll learning new languages while pursuing a law degree in the process of writing in between real estate investment projects into one fun time. Oh yeah, and I would like to meet a nice woman and start a family somwhere in there, too. Wait!!! I have solved it. I am officially creating the 25th hour. You can tell all your friends that you were there when it happened. In this 25th hour, time stops for one hour between midnight and, well, midnight. Time takes a lunch hour, and we get to use that hour however we choose. Sleep, study a foreign language, enjoy adult fun time, get drunk or have family game night. The 25th hour is your place to be you. Hahaha, yes, I am going to be rich! Oh, well, I just got a cease and desist order from Father Time. It seems that he is under contract to work 24 hours per day...only. Since his contract is with the creator of the universe, he cannot break it. Well, it was a good effort, wasn't it? Now what do I do? Damn this having to figure it out for myself. Grifter |
| I seem to have lost years of my life, or so it seems. Last week I was graduating from high school, and three or four days ago I was moving to Michigan to work with Ford. Two days ago, I got married, yesterday, my wife left. At least, that is what it feels like. My life is moving so fast that I no longer know what day it is. When I was younger, I had a ton of energy and time to spend playing. School never seemed to end, and summer always dragged on. I could spend hours on Grandpa's farm running around doing Lord knows what. We got in paint fights because we were bored. We cleaned up Grandma's garden by having rotten tomato fights. My cousin and I worked for our grandparents on the farm doing odd jobs. We tore down an old hog shed and recycled the aluminum. I was the grease monkey who climbed all over the equipment making sure all the lube points were full. Then I would go home and play baseball. Now, I sit on my behind all day changing it from the nice athletic round to office flat. I think, think, think all day until I forget one of my younger birthdays (that is the signal to go home). Then I go home and exercise, write, clean and watch a little boob tube. By the time 10:00 pm rolls around, I have just enough left in me to get to the bed. This all happens so fast anymore that I cannot keep track. Life is running by me so fast. I was told that if I had more energy, I could do more stuff, that life wouldn't pass by me so fast. Okay, I do not believe that at all. But in an effort to slow down my life and figure out what month it is, I have over the past couple of weeks tried different solutions to getting energy. The first suggestion was to exercise because it will wake me up. I do exercise, already; so, I stepped up the regimen a little bit. I felt better and had a little more energy. I didn't need a nap after typing my blog. This is a major improvement. However, the second week into exercising more, I noticed that I was sore all the time instead of tired. I wasn't in pain; I was just sore. I realized why time seemed to slow. Because I sit all day long in front of computer and because I was sore, it took me twice as long to stand up and get walking. My muscles would get stiff while sitting from all the exercise. I was walking down the hallway like a 90 year old man in slow motion. No more exercise. I went back to the amount that allowed me to function normally. The second energy attempt was to get eight hours of sleep a night. I usually get six hours per weeknight and eight to ten on the weekend. Eight hours on the week nights is impossible. My cats just saw that I was in the bed more, so that must mean I want to play. I was woken up twenty minutes after my sandman stopped by. So, I put the cats out of the bedroom. This they did not enjoy and proceeded to let me know by trying to open the cabinets in the bathroom down the hall. They have yet to master opening the cabinet on the first try. So, they get it just far enough that when it slips off their paws, the cabinet bangs like a hoarse shotgun. Option two fell into the graveyard of not workable ideas. A co-worker suggested that I give up caffiene. She told me that I wouldn't have as much energy. However, she said life will slow down because I won't be jittery all the time. I knew this was a bad idea, and I spotted an opportunity to have fun. I asked her how I was going to stay awake in the morning then. She recommended green tea, and I told her that I would think about it. I said, "Hey, if green tea doesn't work out, there is always cocaine." Some people have no sense of humor. Finally, I was told to meditate. It would slow my day down greatly. Meditation would pull me into the everyday moments of life. I sat down to meditate. I got comfortable and began to count my breath. It was peaceful and nice. But then I found myself contemplating the nature of the universe. I realized that I had spent five minutes trying to determine what was stuck in my teeth. Needless to say, I broke my meditation on a quest for floss. This was the best option that I will have to pursue further because I learned a valuable lesson...floss before thinking. My three week quest to slow my life down failed miserably, but from the lessons I learned that is okay. Life flies by, and it is important to stay in the moment. Anyways, since most days are spent working, it is okay if life flies by. It has made the important times all the more precious. Grifter |
| This summer is going to be incredibly busy. I have been putting in a lot of time at work, and we keep falling behind schedule. I won't have any time for vacation until late September with the way things are going. I am going to miss my family's big vacation because I have deadlines that I am not close to meeting. So, I have been dreaming of a vacation at the end of the year. I have a few options; in the end, it will all come down to money available (as usual). Las Vegas, Chicago and New York are the big options for now. I would love to get over the Atlantic to Europe, but that is going to involve a lot of planning and saving money. It just isn't feasible for the fall. If I don't have enough cash for the big options, well, I don't know what I will do then. Las Vegas is number one on my list. The Strip and the nightlife would be a great way to head into the end of the year. I am not much of a gambler, but I would love to play some blackjack out there. I would love to enjoy the sites and wonders of Vegas. I have never seen a buffet that serves steak and lobster. Isn't about time that I did? Chicago is a fun town. I grew up three hours away from Chicago and hated it. It has grown on me since then to a cold, distant, non-speaking relationship. But you can't beat Chicago for Deep Dish pizza. I love St. Louis style thin crust on occassion, but deep dish is where its at. Also, Chicago has Navy pier and all the fun there. I have no desire in my body to see New York. I don't want to go at all, but I have a good friend from college that lives in Jersey. I would go out there to visit him, and we would spend most of our time in NY. The only site that I would really like to see in New York would be Wall Street. I have a feeling that it is smaller and more greedy-looking than my mind has it now. If I can't make it there, I may just find a hotel in downtown St. Louis and crash for a day or two. I still have a lot of time to think about it, and we are getting closer to finalizing the divorce. Once those papers are signed, I am going to begin planning to visit somewhere. I have not been to very many places around this country, and there is a lot to see. The long term plan is to take a tour of Europe. I have three major objectives while visiting the Old World. I want to visit the ruins of the Roman Empire in each of the different countries. I want to visit the World War I and II memorials...particularly at Aisne-Marne in France. Finally, I want to visit the local pub's and enjoy English Bitter, French wine and German Lager. I plan on winking at some of the locals gals and tossing darts with some of the other patrons. Ahh, vacation, you are so far away. I am ready to get away now, but so many responsibilities keep me tied down. Without those responsibilities, vacations would be as fun, though. They would just be life in a different place. |
| Yesterday, I was out on a sick day and not a fun sick day either. I was not suffering from Brown Bottle Disease, nor was I affected by the Gone Fishing Rash. Sleep Deprivation was not the diagnosis, and I did not suffer from the Just Don't Want to Work malady. I was sick and miserable. I had a lot of time to watch my cats yesterday. Nellie is pure white, and Saleen is black with brown stripes. The stripes are subtle; so, she looks mostly black. While they were playing, they paused to take a break. Nellie's head was down by Saleen's tail, and Saleen was biting Nellie's tail. It looked like a living Yin and Yang. Nellie is lazy even for a cat. When we moved to the new house, for the first month, my wife or I had to carry Nellie up the stairs. Not because she couldn't make it up them, but because it was easier if we carried her. Nellie also is the most lovable cat. She will sit on anyone's lap, whether she has known you for a second or a year. I have to give Nellie ten uninterrupted minutes when I get home from work. I am in trouble if I don't, and I can count on her waking me up that night if I don't. Saleen is a hyperactive cat. Her picture is next to the definition of "scaredy cat." Loud noises bring her to the very edge of a heart attack. When I met Saleen, it took a year before she would sit on my lap. Now, she is coming around, but it isn't as frequent as I would like. She is also loud and whiny, where Nellie is quiet and pensive. Watching them chase each other through the house brought a smile to my face. They played with a balled up pair of my socks, and the stairs to the second floor became a race track for a long, long time. I opened one window blind to let Mr. Sun say hello. They climbed onto the kitchen table and fell into a pile of cats in one of the sunshine rays. They napped in the warm light, and I smiled. I may have been miserable yesterday, but I thank God for the distractions of the two furballs. They made a bad day into a bearable experience. I still wish that I had the Gone Fishing Itch instead. |
| Today should be renamed from Father's Day to Buy Your Dad a Crappy Gift Day. I was shopping for pants Friday night after work, and the men's department was full of kids standing at the tie racks. One mom was saying, "Your dad will love this underwear; he needs them." I think we should change this day to give Dad something he wants. I propose we all give Dad the twenty-something blonde who has been enhanced by a plastic surgeon. She can drive up in his favorite car from his childhood carrying a six pack of beer. The trunk of the car could be full of tools, movies and steaks. Well, okay, this might not be possible. But Dad's deserve this. My father has been the rock around which my family is based. He has provided for me and my sister all our lives. He has been there at every basketball game and volleyball game of our high school lives. He taught us a love of sports, and he pushed us toward our college education. Dad always gets the sucky jobs, too. On the way to St. Louis, our car broke down. We were about ten minutes from the nearest gas station. That is ten minutes at 65 miles per hour. Dad had to walk to get help because this was before cell phones were everywhere. My father visits me to help me work on my house. He has kept depression at bay for me. When I talk to him, he won't let me slip into thinking that I will lose my shirt. I will come back from this divorce stronger than ever, and God has given him the job of reminding me. He has helped me get my house into shape. I am going to sell it when everything settles. He is the reason that it will be ready to put on the market. My father means more to me than I can ever say. How do I thank a man that will drive two hours to help clean my house? I chose a bag of peanut M&M's. Yes, it is a crappy gift. I couldn't afford the blonde or the car or the trunk full of goodies, but the type of person my father is wouldn't accept them anyways. He is a stand up guy who cares more about me than himself. The only gift that I truly have to give him is to succeed. If I become half the man my father is, this will be a great life. |
Two people on this site have told me that my blog is humorous. That is a record for me because I am not funny. David McClain   gave me a shout out on his blog the other day, for which I am very grateful. He used the word humor, though. I am not funny; I am an engineer.I love to laugh, and I love to read humorous novels. I wish I knew more authors that wrote funny stuff. But I am an engineer. In college, the people that I met that were really funny washed out of the engineering programs, or they went into the psuedo engineering discipline of engineering management. Sure, we were all funny to other engineers, but we only got laughs from people with social skills when one of us tried talking to a girl. Some of us even used math in our jokes. I have seen a mathematical proof that women are evil. Yes, it is a joke. Yes, it is a joke that uses math to be funny. Yes, I am a nerd. I didn't create it or laugh all that hard, but it is one of the few jokes I remember to this day. Why do I remember that? Because it is a mathematical proof. I hated proofs, but this one was funny, which proves that I am not. Now, that I have been called funny, I worry about my career path. As I have stated...engineers aren't funny. Since my writing has been tagged with the label humor, I might be losing my inherent engineer-ness. Next, I might even develop social skills and...gasp...pick up a woman at a bar. Well, I better not get ahead of myself. The thought of social skills causes me to break out in a cold sweat, so I must still be an engineer. I knew this divorce was causing an identity crisis, but I never thought it might turn me into a normal person. Does this mean I have to give up my scientific calculator? I guess I will have to stop reading Science Fiction, too. No, no, that's crazy. Actually, I think it would be easier and more comfortable if I just went back to being sarcastic instead of funny. Our nation's technical population is decreasing. Kids, today, just are not going to college to enter technical vocations. So, I have a civic duty to protect my inner geek. It is patriotic to shed my humor and return to thankless job of engineering. I may not be able to make you laugh, but I can make your flights 5% safer. Note: No engineers were harmed in the filming of this episode. And in no way does this disparage engineers. I mean, come on; some of my best friends are engineers. Grifter |
| One would think the Nazis would have learned their lesson from World War II, but, NNNNOOOOOOOO!!! I read book after book where they continue in their exploits to take over the world. I mean come on; Indiania Jones smacked the crap out of them a couple times. Why didn't they learn their lessons? Naturally, I read a lot of books, and anymore, when I am in a novel and learn that the villians are Nazis, I roll my eyes. How many stories are there now where some member of the Reich has created a small following? And what we do if there wasn't some heroic figure to foil their plots? It is amazing that these villians had 60 or so years to unhatch their dastardly plans, but they wait until after some hero has taken interest in them. Does the Nazi party secretly want to get caught? Now, don't get me wrong, if the story is well told, an evil SS officer can make for an entertaining read. However, I find a lot of the stories use the Nazis because anybody can recognize them as evil right off the bat. It is almost an authorial (is that a word?) laziness. The characters still need to have motivation, but the bad guy of the tale is obvious from the start. Personally, I think if a story is going to deal with the occult, and for the purposes of telling it, a shadow organization needs to exist; then let the shadow organization remain mysterious. I am always pulled in deeper to a story this way. I want to know about the unknown council of evil-doers. I want to find out why they do what they do. I think that trying to really understand how someone can be evil is a double edged sword. I watched Hannibal Rising the other night, and it explains why Hannibal Lecter was the crazy cannibal that he is. It ruined the character for me. He was creepier when he was just a nut. When they explained why he was a nut, his character had less punch. He just seemed like another mediocre villian. He became a really screwed up human instead of the inhuman monster that Thomas Harris and Anthony Hopkins created. It comes down to separating motivation from the why of a character. I want to know that the villian believes he is saving the world by conducting inhumane experiments. I don't want to know that he learned to be distant from other people because his father made him quit his paper route. The motivation can elevate the antagonist to anti-heroic proportions, and explaining what tramatic event made him or her (but we all know women can't be evil right?  ) psychotic slams the person back down to being a human like me. To keep my attention, the hero and villian must both be larger than life.I say give the Nazi angle a rest if your story isn't about and/or during World War II. The poor idiots need to rest and regather their strength for when Indiania Jones finds a piece of Noah's Ark or Cain's knife. Choose a villian that is a monster just for the sake of being a monster, and I will be hooked on your tale. Grifter |
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