Um...there ain't a whole lot more after that.
Sorry.
Bad Economy.
But it's allowed us all to get back to basics, to understand that the Holiday isn't about what we get, it's about love and family and friends and celebrating another year of health and happiness, and knowing that during those moments when things are a little less bright, some will be there.
Beautiful, isn't it? But a 50 inch plasma flat screen sure would have been nice.
Showing posts with label 2008. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2008. Show all posts
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
I voted.
I voted today at 11:55am at my local precinct.
I had been in line since just before 8:30am. The line wasn't that long. Or so it seemed.
After heavily medicating myself - Airborne, Zicam, and then Comtrex - I arose with only the vestiges of symptoms of what I call "the sneezing death" and trundled over to my polling place to cast my ballot. Thank god I brought a book.
The book was Ross Thomas' "The Backup Men" and is good with a sparse writing style that is highly steeped in reality.
In line I developed a distaste for the elderly.
Apparently if you're over 65, you can go right to the front of the line to vote. Health and all that. And there are an astounding number of elderly people in my neighborhood. Astounding. They came in waves of 5 or 10, on walkers and with canes, moving slow, some had help, others bravely going alone. Every 10 minutes or so, a fresh batch appeared. And each and every one voted before me.
And having voted, they're going home to watch a little TV, get a nap, maybe eat a little bit.
And I still had to go to work.
What really upset me, after standing behind the lady who was on the phone the entire time and in front of the mother and son who complained about everything - the weather, the free doughnuts, how slow the line was moving, what somebody else was wearing - for a period that was roughly half of my day, when I walked outside of the polling place....THERE WAS NO LINE.
Had I waited till lunch, I could have been in and out in thirty - thirty five minutes. Why couldn't the older people have waited until afternoon to vote?
In any case it's showtime.
Have the polls been wrong? All 150 of them? We'll know in a little while. Hold on tight, because here we go.
Barkeep, it's only cause I KNOW my boy is going to win, I need a Gentleman Jack and sprite.
I had been in line since just before 8:30am. The line wasn't that long. Or so it seemed.
After heavily medicating myself - Airborne, Zicam, and then Comtrex - I arose with only the vestiges of symptoms of what I call "the sneezing death" and trundled over to my polling place to cast my ballot. Thank god I brought a book.
The book was Ross Thomas' "The Backup Men" and is good with a sparse writing style that is highly steeped in reality.
In line I developed a distaste for the elderly.
Apparently if you're over 65, you can go right to the front of the line to vote. Health and all that. And there are an astounding number of elderly people in my neighborhood. Astounding. They came in waves of 5 or 10, on walkers and with canes, moving slow, some had help, others bravely going alone. Every 10 minutes or so, a fresh batch appeared. And each and every one voted before me.
And having voted, they're going home to watch a little TV, get a nap, maybe eat a little bit.
And I still had to go to work.
What really upset me, after standing behind the lady who was on the phone the entire time and in front of the mother and son who complained about everything - the weather, the free doughnuts, how slow the line was moving, what somebody else was wearing - for a period that was roughly half of my day, when I walked outside of the polling place....THERE WAS NO LINE.
Had I waited till lunch, I could have been in and out in thirty - thirty five minutes. Why couldn't the older people have waited until afternoon to vote?
In any case it's showtime.
Have the polls been wrong? All 150 of them? We'll know in a little while. Hold on tight, because here we go.
Barkeep, it's only cause I KNOW my boy is going to win, I need a Gentleman Jack and sprite.
Monday, November 3, 2008
The Last Weekend Roundup
Mental Rehab Post #35
Sometimes in the course of living, we live just a little too hard. And then comes a reckoning, and then shortly thereafter, nachos. Or is it pie? In either case, as I've told many a folk, most of things that happen to me are my fault. I either didn't plan for the eventuality, didn't prepare going in, or whatever, but usually...it's my fault. So read this and when I'm complaining in a few weeks, you'll know why. To wit, my weekend...
So...one of my profs plucks my name from the ether to give a presentation last Tuesday. I mean I talk a lot in class to avoid moments like this, what gives?
I have my normal complement of reading and the case briefings.
.... two papers due, one reconstruction and the other from scratch.
... a mock final on Saturday that's gonna snatch three hours.
....and I need to start getting together my outlines and other study methods so I can master these finals in a month.
And then as it turns out I'm hosting the Halloween Party on Friday night (Silly me!), folks from out of town are dropping through, my website is in dire need of an update, I'm losing at BabyCal throw, my house is approaching pigsty status, I need to wash clothes, the loss in hours at work due to school means me es a broke, I'm starting to come down with something and I think my blood pressure medicine is not working right anymore.
So Friday night is party night, as my RP calls twice to see if I'm on the way. I had halfway figured this, so I was ready.. studied for the mock final Wednesday and Thursday, and since it was open book and notes I figured I would be straight. Home by 1am, up by 8 and at the test at 10am. Great plan.
The party is a flashback to how we used to do it. The women are frisky, fine and most are in costume. And the dudes show up empty handed. And ask for the top shelf liquor. The naughty nun doesn't give me a second look, the Serena Williams thinks I'm cute but crazy, miss sailor wants me stop serving drinks so we can get cozy, the dominatrices don't show up until midnight and foolishness is in the air. It was an good night. I need to have more of those.
The one picture I can show you...
So Saturday morning I'm up, and ready and you got to be tripping. The mock was a waste of time. Only four people show up to take it. The 2Ls and 3Ls are not happy. We 1Ls are not appreciative, apparently. Or serious.
So I go home Saturday and nap. And do my contracts reading. And sleep. And play BabyCal Throw. I'm sore from the night before, so I don't clean up and by the time the evening rolls around, I just make some chili dogs and make me some fresh cut fries (one potato - one knife. the basics), crawl into the couch and pass out. Man that's a nice couch.
Special note - Not everyone has an unlimited text plan. My people from out of town are in town, and end up canvasing for Obama (I find out via text) and then get tickets to the Hawks game (I find out via texts) and then run late (texts) and so we don't do dinner (texts) then after the game end up at Barley's in Midtown (texts) then the next day want to go a mall (text) and then are running late again (texts) and stop at the corner so they don't get to the restaurant early (text) and etc ....
So I get up, don't clean the house...again... and go down to eat on Camp Creek with my internet buddies. Who are fun people and have fallen into the trap that is Atlanta - Come for a weekend and you'll want to move here. And since they had the primo tour I can see why.
After eats I run by and catch my tutoring session, which as usual is more informative than the class in most respects. Then after the session my fellow presenters get together and gnash over the fact pattern for our "presentation". THIS fact pattern was described by our prof as a "finals" type question.
For dinner I've planned a thick steak, baked potato and fresh bed, gravy and onions...I have three bowls of Rice Krispies. Great plan.
And then bam! Suddenly I'm sniffling and sneezing! Bad sneezing. What gives?
Barkeep. Whiskey with a Thera-flu back.
Sometimes in the course of living, we live just a little too hard. And then comes a reckoning, and then shortly thereafter, nachos. Or is it pie? In either case, as I've told many a folk, most of things that happen to me are my fault. I either didn't plan for the eventuality, didn't prepare going in, or whatever, but usually...it's my fault. So read this and when I'm complaining in a few weeks, you'll know why. To wit, my weekend...
So...one of my profs plucks my name from the ether to give a presentation last Tuesday. I mean I talk a lot in class to avoid moments like this, what gives?
I have my normal complement of reading and the case briefings.
.... two papers due, one reconstruction and the other from scratch.
... a mock final on Saturday that's gonna snatch three hours.
....and I need to start getting together my outlines and other study methods so I can master these finals in a month.
And then as it turns out I'm hosting the Halloween Party on Friday night (Silly me!), folks from out of town are dropping through, my website is in dire need of an update, I'm losing at BabyCal throw, my house is approaching pigsty status, I need to wash clothes, the loss in hours at work due to school means me es a broke, I'm starting to come down with something and I think my blood pressure medicine is not working right anymore.
So Friday night is party night, as my RP calls twice to see if I'm on the way. I had halfway figured this, so I was ready.. studied for the mock final Wednesday and Thursday, and since it was open book and notes I figured I would be straight. Home by 1am, up by 8 and at the test at 10am. Great plan.
The party is a flashback to how we used to do it. The women are frisky, fine and most are in costume. And the dudes show up empty handed. And ask for the top shelf liquor. The naughty nun doesn't give me a second look, the Serena Williams thinks I'm cute but crazy, miss sailor wants me stop serving drinks so we can get cozy, the dominatrices don't show up until midnight and foolishness is in the air. It was an good night. I need to have more of those.
The one picture I can show you...So Saturday morning I'm up, and ready and you got to be tripping. The mock was a waste of time. Only four people show up to take it. The 2Ls and 3Ls are not happy. We 1Ls are not appreciative, apparently. Or serious.
So I go home Saturday and nap. And do my contracts reading. And sleep. And play BabyCal Throw. I'm sore from the night before, so I don't clean up and by the time the evening rolls around, I just make some chili dogs and make me some fresh cut fries (one potato - one knife. the basics), crawl into the couch and pass out. Man that's a nice couch.
Special note - Not everyone has an unlimited text plan. My people from out of town are in town, and end up canvasing for Obama (I find out via text) and then get tickets to the Hawks game (I find out via texts) and then run late (texts) and so we don't do dinner (texts) then after the game end up at Barley's in Midtown (texts) then the next day want to go a mall (text) and then are running late again (texts) and stop at the corner so they don't get to the restaurant early (text) and etc ....
So I get up, don't clean the house...again... and go down to eat on Camp Creek with my internet buddies. Who are fun people and have fallen into the trap that is Atlanta - Come for a weekend and you'll want to move here. And since they had the primo tour I can see why.
After eats I run by and catch my tutoring session, which as usual is more informative than the class in most respects. Then after the session my fellow presenters get together and gnash over the fact pattern for our "presentation". THIS fact pattern was described by our prof as a "finals" type question.
For dinner I've planned a thick steak, baked potato and fresh bed, gravy and onions...I have three bowls of Rice Krispies. Great plan.
And then bam! Suddenly I'm sniffling and sneezing! Bad sneezing. What gives?
Barkeep. Whiskey with a Thera-flu back.
Friday, October 31, 2008
The Other Phone Thing
Mental Rehab Post #34
Bad habits, annoying traits, things we do that we do and have been doing for ages for no good reason at all. You all do them. Okay, I do them too. And some of them desperately need to be fixed, as some are just not good for continued operation of this institution I call me. It's more from the closet of my psyche, and as they say the first part of working on an issue is realizing you have an issue. And boy, do I got issues.
I need to start calling people back.
I have a horrible habit. It is one that comes from a combination of a general overall aloof, a bit of self doubt and the amazing fact that it continues to happen again and again. To wit: If you give me your phone number, there is a 85% chance I will never call you. And if you call me and I miss it, there is a 50% chance I won't call you back. Oddly, I don't ever screen calls though.
Women frequently offer me their phone number. I have no idea why.
One night in a bar as me and one of my partners sat drinking good liquor, smoking cigars and talking cash money shit a young lady wrote her number on a napkin - practically unheard of in the age of cell phones - and molded her body to mine to make sure I got it. I don't think her number made it out to the parking lot. And she was cute too.
In college one of my junior partners called her buddy over and after we all got blitzed drunk I woke up with her buddy's phone number in my pocket, with no recollection of asking for it. I don't even remember the game of strip spades we apparently lost, which mean she saw me naked and drunk and gave me the digits anyway. Seriously, I don't think I look that great naked. What did I say to that woman?
Another instance, in fact I think I related part of it on this blog earlier, I had ducked out of studying a few weeks ago and found myself in the Castleberry district drinking away someone's birthday. I think I spoke to this woman for all of five minutes. She'd been sitting on a table edge revealing a generous portion of rather attractive thigh just opposite me for about a half hour and so at some point I got up, walked over and opened a napkin, then placed it on her lap to cover her, joking that she was being entirely too distracting. She laughed back and said that she'd worn the dress to show her thighs, they were damn good thighs and I could keep my damn napkin. The rest of our conversation lasted maybe two minutes. I didn't even ask her name. Yet as I was leaving she walked across the room and presented me with her card, put her number in my phone and suggested we hang out. Her number is still in there. And I still haven't called.
I am not a male model. Not even close. I am not rich. Working on it. I don't pretend to be either, although the male model thing should be evident fairly quickly. Immediately is probably a more accurate term. So how is it this keeps happening to me?
Don't know, don't care.
But I sure hope it keeps happening. Because one day I'm going to start calling.
I keep trying to figure out when I stopped trusting the phone. I'd had your typical youth phone conversations, with the classic sitting on the phone listening to each other breathe and other silly things you do, and I've seen the worst of it with breakups by phone and watched and listened as hurtful lies were told. You know, the usual. But I've always preferred face to face communication. A medium where I can see and gauge and react to the non-verbal as well as the verbal cues people give off. I mean sometimes you can feel a conversation veer off even when the words don't match up if you're in the same room.
Maybe it's because I'm not even aggressive enough in matters of a social nature.
There are a lot of reasons I guess, but I don't know most of them.
In any case I need to start calling people. And calling people back.
Barkeep. Hello, Barkeep. Barkeep. I mean to call for real, seriously. I lost your number...Barkeep?
Bad habits, annoying traits, things we do that we do and have been doing for ages for no good reason at all. You all do them. Okay, I do them too. And some of them desperately need to be fixed, as some are just not good for continued operation of this institution I call me. It's more from the closet of my psyche, and as they say the first part of working on an issue is realizing you have an issue. And boy, do I got issues.
I need to start calling people back.
I have a horrible habit. It is one that comes from a combination of a general overall aloof, a bit of self doubt and the amazing fact that it continues to happen again and again. To wit: If you give me your phone number, there is a 85% chance I will never call you. And if you call me and I miss it, there is a 50% chance I won't call you back. Oddly, I don't ever screen calls though.
Women frequently offer me their phone number. I have no idea why.
One night in a bar as me and one of my partners sat drinking good liquor, smoking cigars and talking cash money shit a young lady wrote her number on a napkin - practically unheard of in the age of cell phones - and molded her body to mine to make sure I got it. I don't think her number made it out to the parking lot. And she was cute too.
In college one of my junior partners called her buddy over and after we all got blitzed drunk I woke up with her buddy's phone number in my pocket, with no recollection of asking for it. I don't even remember the game of strip spades we apparently lost, which mean she saw me naked and drunk and gave me the digits anyway. Seriously, I don't think I look that great naked. What did I say to that woman?
Another instance, in fact I think I related part of it on this blog earlier, I had ducked out of studying a few weeks ago and found myself in the Castleberry district drinking away someone's birthday. I think I spoke to this woman for all of five minutes. She'd been sitting on a table edge revealing a generous portion of rather attractive thigh just opposite me for about a half hour and so at some point I got up, walked over and opened a napkin, then placed it on her lap to cover her, joking that she was being entirely too distracting. She laughed back and said that she'd worn the dress to show her thighs, they were damn good thighs and I could keep my damn napkin. The rest of our conversation lasted maybe two minutes. I didn't even ask her name. Yet as I was leaving she walked across the room and presented me with her card, put her number in my phone and suggested we hang out. Her number is still in there. And I still haven't called.
I am not a male model. Not even close. I am not rich. Working on it. I don't pretend to be either, although the male model thing should be evident fairly quickly. Immediately is probably a more accurate term. So how is it this keeps happening to me?
Don't know, don't care.
But I sure hope it keeps happening. Because one day I'm going to start calling.
I keep trying to figure out when I stopped trusting the phone. I'd had your typical youth phone conversations, with the classic sitting on the phone listening to each other breathe and other silly things you do, and I've seen the worst of it with breakups by phone and watched and listened as hurtful lies were told. You know, the usual. But I've always preferred face to face communication. A medium where I can see and gauge and react to the non-verbal as well as the verbal cues people give off. I mean sometimes you can feel a conversation veer off even when the words don't match up if you're in the same room.
Maybe it's because I'm not even aggressive enough in matters of a social nature.
There are a lot of reasons I guess, but I don't know most of them.
In any case I need to start calling people. And calling people back.
Barkeep. Hello, Barkeep. Barkeep. I mean to call for real, seriously. I lost your number...Barkeep?
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Odd Quotes
Imagine if you will, twelve starving murderous convicts sitting around a table. In middle of that table is steak dinner. Suddenly the lights go out. Me? I'm the onion rings.
- Quote from a movie I never watched.
- Quote from a movie I never watched.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Ain't gon' Bump No Mo, with no....
Mental Rehab Post #29
A lot of things are just that...things. One of the great bits of personal advice in the twenty first century isn't a lyrical concept on wings of gossamer, or even a statement you can live by, but a three word chant that distills life down to it's essence: Keep it moving. It implores us not to dwell on our failures or even take the time to celebrate our successes before we move onto whatever is next. I wonder how much life we miss, because we just kept going. A lot of pain I'm sure, but a great deal of personal growth as well. Has it really come to this?
I stopped listening to "real" radio last fall. I stopped listening because of Sporty and the fact that every other song on the radio is about sex (rap music and modern R&B) or about love and sex (r&b oldies) and so to keep from depressing myself I switched to classic music. Which has like no words and great themes and well, I've grown to really like it more than I did when I started listening.
Thinking back, I'm fairly certain there was Latin music alternative I should have tried.
I love music. I used to listen to everything: country western, rap, soul, African rhythms, jazz, folk music, bluegrass, Gregorian chants, sitars, in short pretty much anything with a harmony.
So this week I said hey, it's been a year and I said hey, jeez, how bad could it still be?
First, I did not even know Ricky Smiley had a morning show on 107.9. What happened to the A-team? Second, it still hurt a lot. A whole lot. And the oldies station weren't no better. What are the odds somebody would be playing a Luther song? Damn! First day back and you send out Luther? Just cut to the bone why don't you? Damn, let a brother ease back in!
So it was back to WABE and now I'm thinking about making a pledge as part of their listener membership drive. Man, I am in bad shape.
Honestly, some of the music makes me think of back when I used to dream the Sporty and I had a future. Okay, between us... I had even picked out the first song I wanted to play for the first dance at *gasp* our wedding. This will fade. Eventually. Maybe I need to just dive in and take the pain until it doesn't hurt anymore, just go on and listen to it all night and day. Or maybe I need to join a nice monastery.
Barkeep. Some of the communion wine with a beer back.
A lot of things are just that...things. One of the great bits of personal advice in the twenty first century isn't a lyrical concept on wings of gossamer, or even a statement you can live by, but a three word chant that distills life down to it's essence: Keep it moving. It implores us not to dwell on our failures or even take the time to celebrate our successes before we move onto whatever is next. I wonder how much life we miss, because we just kept going. A lot of pain I'm sure, but a great deal of personal growth as well. Has it really come to this?
I stopped listening to "real" radio last fall. I stopped listening because of Sporty and the fact that every other song on the radio is about sex (rap music and modern R&B) or about love and sex (r&b oldies) and so to keep from depressing myself I switched to classic music. Which has like no words and great themes and well, I've grown to really like it more than I did when I started listening.
Thinking back, I'm fairly certain there was Latin music alternative I should have tried.
I love music. I used to listen to everything: country western, rap, soul, African rhythms, jazz, folk music, bluegrass, Gregorian chants, sitars, in short pretty much anything with a harmony.
So this week I said hey, it's been a year and I said hey, jeez, how bad could it still be?
First, I did not even know Ricky Smiley had a morning show on 107.9. What happened to the A-team? Second, it still hurt a lot. A whole lot. And the oldies station weren't no better. What are the odds somebody would be playing a Luther song? Damn! First day back and you send out Luther? Just cut to the bone why don't you? Damn, let a brother ease back in!
So it was back to WABE and now I'm thinking about making a pledge as part of their listener membership drive. Man, I am in bad shape.
Honestly, some of the music makes me think of back when I used to dream the Sporty and I had a future. Okay, between us... I had even picked out the first song I wanted to play for the first dance at *gasp* our wedding. This will fade. Eventually. Maybe I need to just dive in and take the pain until it doesn't hurt anymore, just go on and listen to it all night and day. Or maybe I need to join a nice monastery.
Barkeep. Some of the communion wine with a beer back.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Odd Quotes
The moment we stop chasing our dreams is the moment we stop living and start just going through the motions.
- Me at 2:35am. (Sent to Shade and Sporty)
- Me at 2:35am. (Sent to Shade and Sporty)
Monday, October 13, 2008
Weekends on the slow and easy
Mental Rehab Post #28
And in the beginning, I really wanted to get drunk so I could forget all that had transpired, but then I realized that I couldn't get that drunk or consume that much alcohol in one sitting. And that I really didn't want to forget her. So I'm kinda stuck. And like life it isn't always pretty, but it's what I got so I'm gonna deal with it.
Let's see, so little happened, where to begin?
Friday night, I stayed home and read through cases in Westlaw and some in Lexis, for my upcoming paper. I'm still not sure what I'm looking for.
Saturday...oh yeah, I read some of my class reading. I pretty much resigned myself to the idea that I will taking the library class over again. I believe I missed it by that >< much. It's a pass/fail course so close doesn't matter, and when I counted up the ones on the final I was shaky with, that number was awful close to the line. Oh well. I moped about the house and felt sorry for myself. I went to the grocery store.
Around two a.m philosophical inspiration struck, so I sent out one of my "inspirational texts."
Sunday... I read some more. Then I slept. Then I read even some more some more. I started on my outline for one class since we are moving to a new section on Tuesday. Sporty and I chatted briefly via modern communication, and I've figured out we don't' talk much anymore not because we don't have anything to say, but that we don't want to hurt each others feelings. She knows how I feel, and even now I still don't want her to be out of my life forever I don't talk about everything, so our conversations have become VERY SPECIFIC. She asks about school, my folks, she tells me what she's doing specifically, I ask about the topic she wants to talk about, I try to give her inspiration.
Spanky moved back to town, she'd been doing an overseas gig but things are rough all over. When we spoke last week she was depressed. This week however she is so busy trying to jump start hanging out I only spoke to her on Sunday when she had a moment to catch her breath. She decided a hotel would let her come and go as she pleased...and that my neighborhood is still probably a little too transitiony.
Then I read some more. And outlined kinda. I need to find that disc with the outline samples on it.
I think I whiffed the first one, so I gotta go back in there and get them other three. No excuses.
Barkeep. Something philosophical. Martini, dry? Sounds about right.
And in the beginning, I really wanted to get drunk so I could forget all that had transpired, but then I realized that I couldn't get that drunk or consume that much alcohol in one sitting. And that I really didn't want to forget her. So I'm kinda stuck. And like life it isn't always pretty, but it's what I got so I'm gonna deal with it.
Let's see, so little happened, where to begin?
Friday night, I stayed home and read through cases in Westlaw and some in Lexis, for my upcoming paper. I'm still not sure what I'm looking for.
Saturday...oh yeah, I read some of my class reading. I pretty much resigned myself to the idea that I will taking the library class over again. I believe I missed it by that >< much. It's a pass/fail course so close doesn't matter, and when I counted up the ones on the final I was shaky with, that number was awful close to the line. Oh well. I moped about the house and felt sorry for myself. I went to the grocery store.
Around two a.m philosophical inspiration struck, so I sent out one of my "inspirational texts."
Sunday... I read some more. Then I slept. Then I read even some more some more. I started on my outline for one class since we are moving to a new section on Tuesday. Sporty and I chatted briefly via modern communication, and I've figured out we don't' talk much anymore not because we don't have anything to say, but that we don't want to hurt each others feelings. She knows how I feel, and even now I still don't want her to be out of my life forever I don't talk about everything, so our conversations have become VERY SPECIFIC. She asks about school, my folks, she tells me what she's doing specifically, I ask about the topic she wants to talk about, I try to give her inspiration.
Spanky moved back to town, she'd been doing an overseas gig but things are rough all over. When we spoke last week she was depressed. This week however she is so busy trying to jump start hanging out I only spoke to her on Sunday when she had a moment to catch her breath. She decided a hotel would let her come and go as she pleased...and that my neighborhood is still probably a little too transitiony.
Then I read some more. And outlined kinda. I need to find that disc with the outline samples on it.
I think I whiffed the first one, so I gotta go back in there and get them other three. No excuses.
Barkeep. Something philosophical. Martini, dry? Sounds about right.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Quiet Moments in the Fall
Mental Rehab Post #27
School has been 'berry 'berry good to me. School has done something that I don't think I would have been able to do on my own. Which is for large parts of the day I am able to put a vast number of personal second guesses out of my head. For the most part I can live in the moment. When it gets quiet, or given a few extra seconds in the decision making process, I can overthink something sideways. School hasn't allowed much of that. Thanks School.
Last night Shade called from DC. She's doing her residency in Chocolate City and like women do in the movies, she stopped an took a moment to enjoy one of the small pleasures of life. She called me as she watched the sunset from the Thomas Jefferson Memorial among young families and younger lovers (possibly arranging a menage - her words not mine), just to talk. If she'd had a extra foamy frappacinco and been wearing a Versace she could have been a walk-on in Sex in the City 2.
We stayed on the phone for an hour talking about nothing in the way that friends do, me neglecting my studies for a few minutes of personal connection. It might have been the best thing I did all weekend.
Speaking of the weekend, I spent most of it studying, just like I was supposed to. Yeah me! I woke up Saturday and read through most of the material, then went to brunch with Schmoopy, who so-that-every-body-knows for her birthday raised money for charities in Africa. She's doing Habitat for Humanity again later this month and I thought I might do it again, but it all depends on my educational outlook. The open legal memo is looking a little harder than I thought...gee like that's a shock.
Schmoopy and I talked about Sporty, and why it's unhealthy that I'm still there. We both agreed that my thoughts were unrealistic. She also understood that emotions are hardly logical. That would be why we call them emotions. She extolled the concept we both should endeavor to treat our emotions like we treat our bank accounts. We both know we'll fail. Schmoopy is cool.
Then Spanky asked via text from Scotland if she could move in with me until she can get the tenants evicted from her house, which like a whole other story I'm still confused about.
Then I went back to the house and got to studying. I should be ashamed of myself because in reading I'm finding answers to questions that I only guessed at earlier, which means I didn't read the first time. Right there on page six of handout eight is the answer to that question I guessed at three weeks ago. Oops. For background sounds switched from Real Jazz on DirectTV to Watercolors, which has even less words and sounds more like elevator music. For studying it's great.
Sunday I made my grandmother's biscuits for breakfast. It took me eight years to perfect this recipe and it only has three ingredients. There are no measurements, you just know when it's right. And they were. Then I went to the library and studied until the tutoring session for my Monday class started. I learned more in that 75 minutes than I have in the last three classes. I also learned how to answer the Prof's test questions and a few tips for extra points. Again with the Yay me. (Yeah and Yay me are in lieu of more ethnic but less translatable "aww suki suki now" or "Booyah!" - Thanx Mgmt).
By the way, I'm getting tired of watching the Cowboys via highlights on SportsCenter. And I saw where the Colts pulled it out so I know Sporty's happy.
Sunday night was my talk with Shade, and then I did my reading for Monday's class, the test is for one of the Wednesday classes, and in reading got all confused again. I'ma need to email the tutor.
All quiet on the bar front.
Barkeep...a little whiskey and apple juice. Trust me.
School has been 'berry 'berry good to me. School has done something that I don't think I would have been able to do on my own. Which is for large parts of the day I am able to put a vast number of personal second guesses out of my head. For the most part I can live in the moment. When it gets quiet, or given a few extra seconds in the decision making process, I can overthink something sideways. School hasn't allowed much of that. Thanks School.
Last night Shade called from DC. She's doing her residency in Chocolate City and like women do in the movies, she stopped an took a moment to enjoy one of the small pleasures of life. She called me as she watched the sunset from the Thomas Jefferson Memorial among young families and younger lovers (possibly arranging a menage - her words not mine), just to talk. If she'd had a extra foamy frappacinco and been wearing a Versace she could have been a walk-on in Sex in the City 2.
We stayed on the phone for an hour talking about nothing in the way that friends do, me neglecting my studies for a few minutes of personal connection. It might have been the best thing I did all weekend.
Speaking of the weekend, I spent most of it studying, just like I was supposed to. Yeah me! I woke up Saturday and read through most of the material, then went to brunch with Schmoopy, who so-that-every-body-knows for her birthday raised money for charities in Africa. She's doing Habitat for Humanity again later this month and I thought I might do it again, but it all depends on my educational outlook. The open legal memo is looking a little harder than I thought...gee like that's a shock.
Schmoopy and I talked about Sporty, and why it's unhealthy that I'm still there. We both agreed that my thoughts were unrealistic. She also understood that emotions are hardly logical. That would be why we call them emotions. She extolled the concept we both should endeavor to treat our emotions like we treat our bank accounts. We both know we'll fail. Schmoopy is cool.
Then Spanky asked via text from Scotland if she could move in with me until she can get the tenants evicted from her house, which like a whole other story I'm still confused about.
Then I went back to the house and got to studying. I should be ashamed of myself because in reading I'm finding answers to questions that I only guessed at earlier, which means I didn't read the first time. Right there on page six of handout eight is the answer to that question I guessed at three weeks ago. Oops. For background sounds switched from Real Jazz on DirectTV to Watercolors, which has even less words and sounds more like elevator music. For studying it's great.
Sunday I made my grandmother's biscuits for breakfast. It took me eight years to perfect this recipe and it only has three ingredients. There are no measurements, you just know when it's right. And they were. Then I went to the library and studied until the tutoring session for my Monday class started. I learned more in that 75 minutes than I have in the last three classes. I also learned how to answer the Prof's test questions and a few tips for extra points. Again with the Yay me. (Yeah and Yay me are in lieu of more ethnic but less translatable "aww suki suki now" or "Booyah!" - Thanx Mgmt).
By the way, I'm getting tired of watching the Cowboys via highlights on SportsCenter. And I saw where the Colts pulled it out so I know Sporty's happy.
Sunday night was my talk with Shade, and then I did my reading for Monday's class, the test is for one of the Wednesday classes, and in reading got all confused again. I'ma need to email the tutor.
All quiet on the bar front.
Barkeep...a little whiskey and apple juice. Trust me.
Monday, September 29, 2008
A New Kind of Weekend
Mental Rehab Post #25
Sometimes there are no excuses. You have to stand up and do those things that have to be done, make those moves that have to be made, damn the personal cost. And so this weekend when the nightlife was running hot and my alter ego was rolling his cage back and forth I did what had to be done. I studied.
And it's come to this?
These weekend updates have gotten way easy since I stopped doing anything.
My sole weekend adventure was in the form of joining the hunt for fuel on Friday night, as in Atlanta we have the weirdest little gas shortage going on. Due to an EPA restrictions, the city of only gets an ultra clean low sulfur summer gas (with gasititve additives and a twist of lime) but due to the Hurricanes in the Gulf earlier this year that special blend is in short supply. So everyday in Atlanta the good folks get together and re-enact the the scenes of cars waiting for gas you see in those pictures from the 70s.
I had tweaked it down to the fumes even with limiting my trips all week, but live on the Westside, work on the northwest side and go to school downtown, so I can only do so much.
Friday night, with the hand three microns above empty I set out. All total by my count I passed about thirteen gas stations, only one of which had gas where I actually waited in line for 15 minutes before giving up (the line hadn't moved) before I found a gas hideout. Or a fuel oasis, if you will. Oh there was line, but it was maybe a five minute wait. Five minutes. And no limit. Yes, in parts of the city they limit you, which is kinda screwed up since it means you'll just be back in line sooner.
So with a full tank of gas and memo to write, the only thing that could happen did.
Of course, my sinuses closed up. I mean like completely. No air. So I eke out the outline and general gist of the arguments I want to make before breathing through my mouth and the constant drool make me stop, take two night time Comtrex and pass out on the couch listening to the Direct TV's jazz channel labeled Watercolors, which is like jazz without the edge. Elevator music. Good elevator music. I have to apologize to Schmoopy's whose birthday party I missed on Friday.
I wake up Saturday and get at it. I don't go to the FAMU-TSU game.
I wake up Sunday and get at it. I dont' watch the Cowboys-Redskins game.
My outings when they come are brief. I see Spanky for the first time since she's been in town for all of thirty minutes over a late breakfast at the Waffle House, which by the way I think I'm about over the whole WH experience. Then I'm back at it. I see Shade briefly and find out she's joined the Army Reserves, so suddenly I'm in bizzaro world as earlier this week in one of many phone conversations I find out her little girly ass played Rugby in college and now this. And then...I'm back at it.
My memo, in my humble opinion is brilliant. And by that I mean I copied as much as I could from the good memo the prof gave as an example. A momentary scare when I printed it out as the spacing was wrong I was about to browbeat a computer into submission, but I fixed it.
I'm down to writing these blog posts at the office when I get some spare time, because when I'm home it's all about the books. I don't think I studied as much in a year of undergrad as I have in the short time I've been in law school. And that's scary.
Barkeep...three black coffees and a shot of Wild Turkey. What? It's what Einstein would drink!
Sometimes there are no excuses. You have to stand up and do those things that have to be done, make those moves that have to be made, damn the personal cost. And so this weekend when the nightlife was running hot and my alter ego was rolling his cage back and forth I did what had to be done. I studied.
And it's come to this?
These weekend updates have gotten way easy since I stopped doing anything.
My sole weekend adventure was in the form of joining the hunt for fuel on Friday night, as in Atlanta we have the weirdest little gas shortage going on. Due to an EPA restrictions, the city of only gets an ultra clean low sulfur summer gas (with gasititve additives and a twist of lime) but due to the Hurricanes in the Gulf earlier this year that special blend is in short supply. So everyday in Atlanta the good folks get together and re-enact the the scenes of cars waiting for gas you see in those pictures from the 70s.
I had tweaked it down to the fumes even with limiting my trips all week, but live on the Westside, work on the northwest side and go to school downtown, so I can only do so much.
Friday night, with the hand three microns above empty I set out. All total by my count I passed about thirteen gas stations, only one of which had gas where I actually waited in line for 15 minutes before giving up (the line hadn't moved) before I found a gas hideout. Or a fuel oasis, if you will. Oh there was line, but it was maybe a five minute wait. Five minutes. And no limit. Yes, in parts of the city they limit you, which is kinda screwed up since it means you'll just be back in line sooner.
So with a full tank of gas and memo to write, the only thing that could happen did.
Of course, my sinuses closed up. I mean like completely. No air. So I eke out the outline and general gist of the arguments I want to make before breathing through my mouth and the constant drool make me stop, take two night time Comtrex and pass out on the couch listening to the Direct TV's jazz channel labeled Watercolors, which is like jazz without the edge. Elevator music. Good elevator music. I have to apologize to Schmoopy's whose birthday party I missed on Friday.
I wake up Saturday and get at it. I don't go to the FAMU-TSU game.
I wake up Sunday and get at it. I dont' watch the Cowboys-Redskins game.
My outings when they come are brief. I see Spanky for the first time since she's been in town for all of thirty minutes over a late breakfast at the Waffle House, which by the way I think I'm about over the whole WH experience. Then I'm back at it. I see Shade briefly and find out she's joined the Army Reserves, so suddenly I'm in bizzaro world as earlier this week in one of many phone conversations I find out her little girly ass played Rugby in college and now this. And then...I'm back at it.
My memo, in my humble opinion is brilliant. And by that I mean I copied as much as I could from the good memo the prof gave as an example. A momentary scare when I printed it out as the spacing was wrong I was about to browbeat a computer into submission, but I fixed it.
I'm down to writing these blog posts at the office when I get some spare time, because when I'm home it's all about the books. I don't think I studied as much in a year of undergrad as I have in the short time I've been in law school. And that's scary.
Barkeep...three black coffees and a shot of Wild Turkey. What? It's what Einstein would drink!
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Late Nights and Books of Gobblety Gook
Mental Rehab Post #24
Nothing like real life to get your head out the clouds, or your own ass, and get the new-ish you headed in some direction. It may not be the direction you want to be going, but anyplace other than here might be a better yet. My grandfather used to counsel that no matter how bad the storm got, even if you were just crawling along, to "keep moving." It's a bigger metaphor than I remember.
Last night I got home around 9:30pm, figured out what i was going to make for dinner. turned on the oven, opened the laptop to get started on the next portion of Research assignment, worked through roughly 90% of it....and then suddenly it was just after midnight. Just like that. Whoosh. I had fallen asleep.
So dinner was lunch meat sandwich and glass of kool-aid.
Since I was up, I went ahead and re-read for the class I had tonight. This would be the class I think I understand the most. And quite strangely the words on the page had returned to gobblety gook after the previous two weeks I had thought I had a good handle on things. I actually like the prof, he's quick on his feet, a good communicator, interesting to listen to, so I had been getting it the past few weeks.
But I got my first memo back last night before my other class, and that may have colored everything.
In class I joked after we reviewed how it was supposed to look that she could just keep mine. I wasn't that far off. Apparently I'm going to have to either unlearn how to write like I'm writing now, or learn how to turn off one type of writing and turn on the other. It's a tricky thing. Most people don't write except when they have to, but I write because I like it. It's how I express myself. So I'm going to have an issue a lot of my classmates won't: how to change a fundamental part of who am...In addition to a fundamental change in my way of thinking, which is the overall process of law school.
Great.
On the social front...well, that about wraps that up.
Shade is in town for, er, something. We're doing a birthday brunch this weekend. We've been on the phone a lot the past few days as she clarifies her current relationship with her ..um... suitor. I always find the idea that a woman can be confused about a man's intentions a funny concept. When we were eighteen we were supposed to be coy. As we get older we all should have figured it out somewhere along the way. To get what I want, I have to give them what they want. And I keep meeting people who act surprised that other people have their own wants and needs.
And I guess we'll call her Spanky...is also in town for the FAMU-TSU game this weekend in the Georgia Dome which it looks like due to my educational responsibilities, I will NOT be attending. A four hour football game and the hustle bustle before and after is just too much. Spanky will be disappointed, or not, because I think her "plans" will be arriving. A hour and half for brunch on Sunday for Shade's birthday might be too much as well, but that will be a "game time" decision.
Work is work, only really compressed. I'm still the point man on so many issues it's not funny. And the soap opera drama...if only I could put the names to go with this. The chick whose going away party I attended a few weeks ago had a skeleton bone fall out of her closet since she left. She was the "office tease." Which in turn dominoes this other party's business into the street. That would be the "office high post." And since it involves married and unmarried peoples involved in increasing unlikely and odd combinations of nekkid shenanigans and the associated falsehoods plus misrepresentations that accompany such occurrences, let's just say I don't even miss television right now.
Now this isn't the first time this has happened around the office. Where I work is a colorful place that just seems to be a hotbed of ... she used to do what, Maury "you are the father" moments, criminal enterprises, odd couplings and drunken confessions, but this one is just so...blatant. And since the parties came across as the kind of people who just didn't do this type of thing...you know.
Anyway...Paper looks on schedule, homework done for Wed. class A, working Wed. class B tonight, done my reading, started on my outlines...starting to get in the groove of this. Maybe.
Barkeep...a tequlia shooter with a dash of St. John's Wort.
Nothing like real life to get your head out the clouds, or your own ass, and get the new-ish you headed in some direction. It may not be the direction you want to be going, but anyplace other than here might be a better yet. My grandfather used to counsel that no matter how bad the storm got, even if you were just crawling along, to "keep moving." It's a bigger metaphor than I remember.
Last night I got home around 9:30pm, figured out what i was going to make for dinner. turned on the oven, opened the laptop to get started on the next portion of Research assignment, worked through roughly 90% of it....and then suddenly it was just after midnight. Just like that. Whoosh. I had fallen asleep.
So dinner was lunch meat sandwich and glass of kool-aid.
Since I was up, I went ahead and re-read for the class I had tonight. This would be the class I think I understand the most. And quite strangely the words on the page had returned to gobblety gook after the previous two weeks I had thought I had a good handle on things. I actually like the prof, he's quick on his feet, a good communicator, interesting to listen to, so I had been getting it the past few weeks.
But I got my first memo back last night before my other class, and that may have colored everything.
In class I joked after we reviewed how it was supposed to look that she could just keep mine. I wasn't that far off. Apparently I'm going to have to either unlearn how to write like I'm writing now, or learn how to turn off one type of writing and turn on the other. It's a tricky thing. Most people don't write except when they have to, but I write because I like it. It's how I express myself. So I'm going to have an issue a lot of my classmates won't: how to change a fundamental part of who am...In addition to a fundamental change in my way of thinking, which is the overall process of law school.
Great.
On the social front...well, that about wraps that up.
Shade is in town for, er, something. We're doing a birthday brunch this weekend. We've been on the phone a lot the past few days as she clarifies her current relationship with her ..um... suitor. I always find the idea that a woman can be confused about a man's intentions a funny concept. When we were eighteen we were supposed to be coy. As we get older we all should have figured it out somewhere along the way. To get what I want, I have to give them what they want. And I keep meeting people who act surprised that other people have their own wants and needs.
And I guess we'll call her Spanky...is also in town for the FAMU-TSU game this weekend in the Georgia Dome which it looks like due to my educational responsibilities, I will NOT be attending. A four hour football game and the hustle bustle before and after is just too much. Spanky will be disappointed, or not, because I think her "plans" will be arriving. A hour and half for brunch on Sunday for Shade's birthday might be too much as well, but that will be a "game time" decision.
Work is work, only really compressed. I'm still the point man on so many issues it's not funny. And the soap opera drama...if only I could put the names to go with this. The chick whose going away party I attended a few weeks ago had a skeleton bone fall out of her closet since she left. She was the "office tease." Which in turn dominoes this other party's business into the street. That would be the "office high post." And since it involves married and unmarried peoples involved in increasing unlikely and odd combinations of nekkid shenanigans and the associated falsehoods plus misrepresentations that accompany such occurrences, let's just say I don't even miss television right now.Now this isn't the first time this has happened around the office. Where I work is a colorful place that just seems to be a hotbed of ... she used to do what, Maury "you are the father" moments, criminal enterprises, odd couplings and drunken confessions, but this one is just so...blatant. And since the parties came across as the kind of people who just didn't do this type of thing...you know.
Anyway...Paper looks on schedule, homework done for Wed. class A, working Wed. class B tonight, done my reading, started on my outlines...starting to get in the groove of this. Maybe.
Barkeep...a tequlia shooter with a dash of St. John's Wort.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
They got me...
Mental Rehab Post #22
I believe I may have bitten off a bit more than I can chew. Or want to swallow. Or something. There are times in your life you get overwhelmed. And at those moments we have choice. We can a) cower and fret and accomplish nothing or b) we can grin like we know what we're doing, give the crowd a wink and go at it like there's no tomorrow and the clock says it's 11:59.
Guess which camp I'm in?
There is no weekend recap this weekend because my weekend while emotionally fulfilling was a educational disaster.
Saturday and Sunday, at the behest of my junior partner and erstwhile chum Schmoopy I marinated about 24 pounds of prime chicken and slaved over a hot stove using my Grandmother's recipe to make Sweet Potato Pie. The chicken I parted out into two pound bags, drenched in Soy sauce, this yellow stuff, some other stuff and then a broth and stuck in the fridge and then the pies took like forever. Measured wrong then other stuff, and I also figured out why my pies never quite taste like my grandmothers. Now all have left is the get the crust like her's and then I'll make them and she can eat.
We all got together for the final cooking. After we'd spent all day in a very nice house in Sandy Springs drinking wine and fretting over minor stuff, myself and the rest of the aptly named Team Rafiki (I may not have spelled that right) drove our dinner of chicken w/gravy, mashed red potatoes, corn, mixed veggies and salad down to this house near Grant Park for families in transition, people who've been dealt a bad break and are working to get back onto something. I loathe to say homeless because they're just folks who for a bit of whatever could have been me.
See, old Schmoopy is all into giving back, and since I support her 1000% that means I am too. Lucky me.
It was emotional. One girl got a little teary in the kitchen. We held babies and I cracked jokes and served food and I felt bad because the cake we got had nuts in it and the little guy who wanted cake couldn't have any. I may have to do that again because I think I owe that kid a dessert.
And all this emotional uplift was buoyed by Sporty's response to her birthday words. She said they were more important to her than the oft desired "three words." Okay...that's a little scary really. But I'm not asking no questions.
But as an educational situation, I blew it. My second memo is due and I've only skimmed the cases. My class preparedness has to get done, so everything else slides to the back for a minute. The simple assignment I thought we had one of my classmates said took him an hour for the first of 12 of the 30 questions. And I'm behind on the digital lessons too.
And I'm sitting here writing this.
I gotta get some sleep. And get it going. Be caught up by Friday. Watch me now, smile, wink at the camera. Here I go.
Barkeep. Let's get some!
I believe I may have bitten off a bit more than I can chew. Or want to swallow. Or something. There are times in your life you get overwhelmed. And at those moments we have choice. We can a) cower and fret and accomplish nothing or b) we can grin like we know what we're doing, give the crowd a wink and go at it like there's no tomorrow and the clock says it's 11:59.
Guess which camp I'm in?
There is no weekend recap this weekend because my weekend while emotionally fulfilling was a educational disaster.
Saturday and Sunday, at the behest of my junior partner and erstwhile chum Schmoopy I marinated about 24 pounds of prime chicken and slaved over a hot stove using my Grandmother's recipe to make Sweet Potato Pie. The chicken I parted out into two pound bags, drenched in Soy sauce, this yellow stuff, some other stuff and then a broth and stuck in the fridge and then the pies took like forever. Measured wrong then other stuff, and I also figured out why my pies never quite taste like my grandmothers. Now all have left is the get the crust like her's and then I'll make them and she can eat.
We all got together for the final cooking. After we'd spent all day in a very nice house in Sandy Springs drinking wine and fretting over minor stuff, myself and the rest of the aptly named Team Rafiki (I may not have spelled that right) drove our dinner of chicken w/gravy, mashed red potatoes, corn, mixed veggies and salad down to this house near Grant Park for families in transition, people who've been dealt a bad break and are working to get back onto something. I loathe to say homeless because they're just folks who for a bit of whatever could have been me.
See, old Schmoopy is all into giving back, and since I support her 1000% that means I am too. Lucky me.
It was emotional. One girl got a little teary in the kitchen. We held babies and I cracked jokes and served food and I felt bad because the cake we got had nuts in it and the little guy who wanted cake couldn't have any. I may have to do that again because I think I owe that kid a dessert.
And all this emotional uplift was buoyed by Sporty's response to her birthday words. She said they were more important to her than the oft desired "three words." Okay...that's a little scary really. But I'm not asking no questions.
But as an educational situation, I blew it. My second memo is due and I've only skimmed the cases. My class preparedness has to get done, so everything else slides to the back for a minute. The simple assignment I thought we had one of my classmates said took him an hour for the first of 12 of the 30 questions. And I'm behind on the digital lessons too.
And I'm sitting here writing this.
I gotta get some sleep. And get it going. Be caught up by Friday. Watch me now, smile, wink at the camera. Here I go.
Barkeep. Let's get some!
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Tick tick tick
Relapse Post #2
It's Sporty's Birthday today. I hope she's having a great time. I just realized one of the reasons I'm not actively pursuing the one or two opportunities I may have had...it's that I don't want to be that guy that talks about the last woman to the next woman. It's sad, it's creepy... and I don't want to be that guy. Whoever it is deserves my complete attention.
What follows is what I sent her today, in addition to the actual physical gift she got earlier this week. She used to joke that all my gifts came with words, and they did. Only this time the right words weren't ready when the box was.
It's a derivative of something I read and it just fit her, but it's the first time what I have to give in words isn't mine. The words come a little harder now.
For your birthday I wish for you these things...
a place of comfort when things appear difficult
endless hugs when she feels low
friendships that make life even better
and beauty for her to know
laughter to echo though her soul
countless smiles to brighten her day
faith for when she feels empty
and joy for when she finds time to play
confidence for when she doubts herself
and courage so she can achieve
the patience to wait until the world is ready
and love because that's how it should be.
Happy Birthday Sunshine...
It's Sporty's Birthday today. I hope she's having a great time. I just realized one of the reasons I'm not actively pursuing the one or two opportunities I may have had...it's that I don't want to be that guy that talks about the last woman to the next woman. It's sad, it's creepy... and I don't want to be that guy. Whoever it is deserves my complete attention.
What follows is what I sent her today, in addition to the actual physical gift she got earlier this week. She used to joke that all my gifts came with words, and they did. Only this time the right words weren't ready when the box was.
It's a derivative of something I read and it just fit her, but it's the first time what I have to give in words isn't mine. The words come a little harder now.
For your birthday I wish for you these things...
a place of comfort when things appear difficult
endless hugs when she feels low
friendships that make life even better
and beauty for her to know
laughter to echo though her soul
countless smiles to brighten her day
faith for when she feels empty
and joy for when she finds time to play
confidence for when she doubts herself
and courage so she can achieve
the patience to wait until the world is ready
and love because that's how it should be.
Happy Birthday Sunshine...
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
The Weekend Recap - Once again
Mental Rehab Post #21
Here we have what they call in the business the relapse. Better known as falling of the wagon, I opened up my "dream box" and it's something I probably need to close. I almost wish she either mad at me for not getting it or just ignored me, but then I hear from her and ....let's just say I shouldn't still feel like that. But I do. And the band played on.
Friday - Studying. My first complete legal memo was due Monday so I hunkered down, got my paperwork and got my arguments together, reviewed the details and worked out a overall sketch and outline of what I intended to write and how all the elements fit together following the layout we had discussed in class.
And the sad part is you believe all that.
Okay, that was the plan. Really. The reality is Sporty didn't agree with me that my idea of getting her something for her birthday was a bad idea. So although I had the best laid plans, in reality I sat on my couch looking at my laptop screen unable to concentrate. Had I actually done something like oh, watched TV or a movie or read a book I might even have reason to be mad at myself, but I as planned I on turned on the Jazz Channel and looked at the little laptop screen with one the cases on my lap staring off into space.
Until I woke up around 4am and went to bed.
So Saturday my head is clear, and I'm going to get at it. I actually do read the cases and do the actual outline and kind of mess around and don't do a whole lot else.
To reward myself for nothing I take Saturday off (I'm so smart) and go to a birthday for a friend of mine down in the Castleberry District. It's a new little spot called Tapas 255, which is done really well as far as the decor and the atmosphere. Unlike the walk-in closet sized M Bar next door, the spot has some space, the deck looks great and the crowd looks like their old enough to order drinks. That last part is occasionally a problem in Castleberry.
One special note, I passed a party of what I considered OLD people, you know people in suits of the primary colors with matching shoes and hats (red, green, that sort of thing) and a few of the younger dudes looked at me and said it looked like my kinda crowd. Wanted to kick him in his young ass.
I was only staying an hour, so like three hours later I finally get the ass to leave. I would have left earlier (seriously) but the waitress disappeared with my credit card. Mine and like six other peoples. For like forty five minutes. I'm checking my balance daily for the next few weeks. Okay, maybe I would have stayed because It's been awhile since I did the "club thing" and girls don't usually wear skirts that short to house parties. There were a few I knew couldn't bend more than ten degrees forwards or backwards without ...er...getting friendly with the world.
The party was nice. Traded a little gossip, got some free cake, and had a woman approach me on her own initiative. I did look good in the black though.
Sunday. I had no choice. I got to actual work. And then I realized my folly. Around say...8pm I realized I hadn't eaten dinner yet. Or lunch. Or breakfast for that matter. This was much harder than I thought, even though I had an outline. I had even missed most of the Cowboy season opener to get this done! What's really going on? (Thank god for SportsCenter) So I keep at it till, revising and rewriting till...2am? ...and finish up the last paragraph and polish at the office.
Let's hope this is lesson learned. But I doubt it.
Barkeep. Aw man forget it, I'm going to bed.
Here we have what they call in the business the relapse. Better known as falling of the wagon, I opened up my "dream box" and it's something I probably need to close. I almost wish she either mad at me for not getting it or just ignored me, but then I hear from her and ....let's just say I shouldn't still feel like that. But I do. And the band played on.
Friday - Studying. My first complete legal memo was due Monday so I hunkered down, got my paperwork and got my arguments together, reviewed the details and worked out a overall sketch and outline of what I intended to write and how all the elements fit together following the layout we had discussed in class.
And the sad part is you believe all that.
Okay, that was the plan. Really. The reality is Sporty didn't agree with me that my idea of getting her something for her birthday was a bad idea. So although I had the best laid plans, in reality I sat on my couch looking at my laptop screen unable to concentrate. Had I actually done something like oh, watched TV or a movie or read a book I might even have reason to be mad at myself, but I as planned I on turned on the Jazz Channel and looked at the little laptop screen with one the cases on my lap staring off into space.
Until I woke up around 4am and went to bed.
So Saturday my head is clear, and I'm going to get at it. I actually do read the cases and do the actual outline and kind of mess around and don't do a whole lot else.
To reward myself for nothing I take Saturday off (I'm so smart) and go to a birthday for a friend of mine down in the Castleberry District. It's a new little spot called Tapas 255, which is done really well as far as the decor and the atmosphere. Unlike the walk-in closet sized M Bar next door, the spot has some space, the deck looks great and the crowd looks like their old enough to order drinks. That last part is occasionally a problem in Castleberry.
One special note, I passed a party of what I considered OLD people, you know people in suits of the primary colors with matching shoes and hats (red, green, that sort of thing) and a few of the younger dudes looked at me and said it looked like my kinda crowd. Wanted to kick him in his young ass.
I was only staying an hour, so like three hours later I finally get the ass to leave. I would have left earlier (seriously) but the waitress disappeared with my credit card. Mine and like six other peoples. For like forty five minutes. I'm checking my balance daily for the next few weeks. Okay, maybe I would have stayed because It's been awhile since I did the "club thing" and girls don't usually wear skirts that short to house parties. There were a few I knew couldn't bend more than ten degrees forwards or backwards without ...er...getting friendly with the world.
The party was nice. Traded a little gossip, got some free cake, and had a woman approach me on her own initiative. I did look good in the black though.
Sunday. I had no choice. I got to actual work. And then I realized my folly. Around say...8pm I realized I hadn't eaten dinner yet. Or lunch. Or breakfast for that matter. This was much harder than I thought, even though I had an outline. I had even missed most of the Cowboy season opener to get this done! What's really going on? (Thank god for SportsCenter) So I keep at it till, revising and rewriting till...2am? ...and finish up the last paragraph and polish at the office.
Let's hope this is lesson learned. But I doubt it.
Barkeep. Aw man forget it, I'm going to bed.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
I can feel my blood pressure
This is a health post
I'm getting old. What can I say. And things that should be swinging freely are starting to creak. No not that...minds in the gutter. But as my father likes to say, "getting old is better than the alternative." And the band played on...
A few years ago I had a chest pain, and Sporty insisted I go to the doctor, something I normally would not have done. In most cases, being a typical guy, I would have shrugged it off until the pain subsided then found out twenty years from now that my condition had existed since when I should have taken my ass to the doctor long ass time ago. But anyway I did go to the doctor because she said to and found out I had high blood pressure.
I say had because it's much better now. Going to the doctor and finding out fairly early probably helped. She might have saved my life.
I mean, you ever see one of those movies where the doctor's goes "Excuse me sir, are you sure you're breathing?" Yeah, that was me the first time I went. Numbers at the far end of "you might want to lie down, take a few breaths and try to relax." Looking back I'm fairly amazed they didn't call for an ambulance. Now it's down to merely a little high from time to time. Like now.
Maybe it's the school thing, and the job thing, and the house thing, and the money thing and every other damn thing all coming together in a lovely multi-threaded stress weave but lately I have a sensation that I haven't had in years. Back in my heavy drinking days I would wake up after a good drink and feel my blood pressure in my ears. I was a eerie feeling, sort of a low rumble in my head which I knew if I just stayed still for a while would pass. When I stopped drinking like that, those moments alone in bed on Saturday and Sunday mornings hoping I hadn't drunk myself to death passed for the most part.
And that was true until a week ago. I can hear it again. And it scares me.
I mix up the diet - salads, oat bran, baked foods, veggies and juices mixed with fried whatever and the occasionally extra greasy greasy something. I stopped eating crazy portions, now I just eat until I'm full throw the rest away. My weight is still down, my belts and pants loose.
Is it the diet? The stress? The whole of my existence?
Barkeep...something calming and soothing. With some rum in it.
I'm getting old. What can I say. And things that should be swinging freely are starting to creak. No not that...minds in the gutter. But as my father likes to say, "getting old is better than the alternative." And the band played on...
A few years ago I had a chest pain, and Sporty insisted I go to the doctor, something I normally would not have done. In most cases, being a typical guy, I would have shrugged it off until the pain subsided then found out twenty years from now that my condition had existed since when I should have taken my ass to the doctor long ass time ago. But anyway I did go to the doctor because she said to and found out I had high blood pressure.
I say had because it's much better now. Going to the doctor and finding out fairly early probably helped. She might have saved my life.
I mean, you ever see one of those movies where the doctor's goes "Excuse me sir, are you sure you're breathing?" Yeah, that was me the first time I went. Numbers at the far end of "you might want to lie down, take a few breaths and try to relax." Looking back I'm fairly amazed they didn't call for an ambulance. Now it's down to merely a little high from time to time. Like now.
Maybe it's the school thing, and the job thing, and the house thing, and the money thing and every other damn thing all coming together in a lovely multi-threaded stress weave but lately I have a sensation that I haven't had in years. Back in my heavy drinking days I would wake up after a good drink and feel my blood pressure in my ears. I was a eerie feeling, sort of a low rumble in my head which I knew if I just stayed still for a while would pass. When I stopped drinking like that, those moments alone in bed on Saturday and Sunday mornings hoping I hadn't drunk myself to death passed for the most part.
And that was true until a week ago. I can hear it again. And it scares me.
I mix up the diet - salads, oat bran, baked foods, veggies and juices mixed with fried whatever and the occasionally extra greasy greasy something. I stopped eating crazy portions, now I just eat until I'm full throw the rest away. My weight is still down, my belts and pants loose.
Is it the diet? The stress? The whole of my existence?
Barkeep...something calming and soothing. With some rum in it.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Watching Obama
This is a Political Post
Here we are on the verge of the possiblity of change. Whether or not it will happen is still be seen, but in an age where fractional concepts are rife within both parties, what was will no longer be. In any case, on some level. We live in interesting times. It's about to get bumpy. Bumpier.
I watched "the speech" tonight. I'm going to call it that because that's how we looked upon it going in with hope, or if you're a Republican...disdain. Either way it was significant.
You know, In the right light, he even looks presidential.
He had a lot riding on this. If he delivered will only be decided in the future. Now the pundits and talking heads will soon gather and start telling you what you saw and why this was important or that was a stumble, but then this isn't football and most of us don't need that pale imitation of a John Madden in a bad suit quoting talking points explaining to us where the seam is in the allegorical political defense. But the economy is kinda bad and every job counts, so tune in and feel free to go walk the dog or get the laundry started or something.
Now in my opinion (heck, I may as well be the first pundit, it doesn't look that hard...) the man on stage at Invesco field in front of the diorama that did NOT resemble (to me) a Greek temple or the Lincoln memorial, came out like the Chicago politician you knew was hiding under all that smooth. He was still the poise and cool, but he came out swinging using a great deal of that informal masters degree you get from an Illinois political education.
He hit the notes he needed to hit.
- He defined what he means by change.
- He invoked personal responsibility, typically the tool of his opponents.
- He defined what his policies will be if elected.
- He gave arguments against the personal attacks - celebrity and experience.
- He went after his opponent. Straight up Chicago style.
At the end he turned into a preacher- an old country baptist preacher. The cadence in his voice rising as though it were testifying, then his final tones, like so many on the pulpit from my days of youth, his voice falling to almost conversational tones, so you had to pay attention. It's an old trick, but it worked.
Then like a new age Cosby family, his wife and kids joined him on stage completing the picture. For a hot second I wondered where Theo was.
We listened. We've heard him, without the filter of news reporter or pundit. Now, how you feel is how you feel. We wait for the other guy and see what he's got to say, and go from there.
And that's what America is all about. Win. Lose. Or Draw.
Here we are on the verge of the possiblity of change. Whether or not it will happen is still be seen, but in an age where fractional concepts are rife within both parties, what was will no longer be. In any case, on some level. We live in interesting times. It's about to get bumpy. Bumpier.
I watched "the speech" tonight. I'm going to call it that because that's how we looked upon it going in with hope, or if you're a Republican...disdain. Either way it was significant.
You know, In the right light, he even looks presidential.
He had a lot riding on this. If he delivered will only be decided in the future. Now the pundits and talking heads will soon gather and start telling you what you saw and why this was important or that was a stumble, but then this isn't football and most of us don't need that pale imitation of a John Madden in a bad suit quoting talking points explaining to us where the seam is in the allegorical political defense. But the economy is kinda bad and every job counts, so tune in and feel free to go walk the dog or get the laundry started or something.
Now in my opinion (heck, I may as well be the first pundit, it doesn't look that hard...) the man on stage at Invesco field in front of the diorama that did NOT resemble (to me) a Greek temple or the Lincoln memorial, came out like the Chicago politician you knew was hiding under all that smooth. He was still the poise and cool, but he came out swinging using a great deal of that informal masters degree you get from an Illinois political education.
He hit the notes he needed to hit.
- He defined what he means by change.
- He invoked personal responsibility, typically the tool of his opponents.
- He defined what his policies will be if elected.
- He gave arguments against the personal attacks - celebrity and experience.
- He went after his opponent. Straight up Chicago style.
At the end he turned into a preacher- an old country baptist preacher. The cadence in his voice rising as though it were testifying, then his final tones, like so many on the pulpit from my days of youth, his voice falling to almost conversational tones, so you had to pay attention. It's an old trick, but it worked.
Then like a new age Cosby family, his wife and kids joined him on stage completing the picture. For a hot second I wondered where Theo was.
We listened. We've heard him, without the filter of news reporter or pundit. Now, how you feel is how you feel. We wait for the other guy and see what he's got to say, and go from there.
And that's what America is all about. Win. Lose. Or Draw.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
I don't want to win the lottery
A Mental Rehab Post #19There are thoughts which are connected to other thoughts like we're all six degrees from Kevin Bacon. They don't look like at first, but this matches up to that, and to that, which looks at this and bam, here were are. Strange isn't it?
I really don't want to win the lottery. I occasionally buy a lottery ticket when the prize gets high enough (now that's gall, like $15-20 million just wouldn't be enough) but in reality winning the lottery right now would more than likely be a bad thing. And not why you think.
Now I've read the articles where the people who win end up broke or destitute in few years and I look upon them with wonder. I mean complete and honest freaking wonder. I'd like to believe that if you handed me $30 million cash I'd have a hard time spending it all. Once you get past the initial purchases, exactly what do they spend the money on? House, nice car or two, pay off a bunch of bills, trip or two, and then what? Maybe it's just me.
Don't get me wrong, I know I'm speaking from a lack of experience, but then I have a fairly elaborate plan dealing with lottery winnings which involves trusts, annuities, Brazilian doctors, places where the girls don't speak English, this book I read ten years ago and eventually the phrase "diplomatic immunity." It's a little involved. You hear about these folks and it's like they really thought the money would last forever. It would if you continued to live like you did before you won, but everybody goes and buys everything they ever dreamed about. And then loan all their friends money. And invest in every fly by night idea that comes along. And then wonder why they're broke.
Let me put everybody on notice right now. My family will spread a few bucks around, but the list of hookup folks is maybe five people long and all together non-family gifts won't equal a half million bucks. Ask if you want to, but nobody else sees a dime.
But the real reason I don't want to win the lottery right now is that I already have serious doubts about if the women in life really feel about me. I mean I'm currently suspicious of why women actually like me and I'm relatively broke. I'm guessing a few million errant dollars would only cloud the issue. Hell, I'm guessing a few thousand dollars might cloud the issue. At heart, I am a hopeless romantic. I know that I'll never live in a shack on the beach with a woman who loves me, living off coconut rum and good times. But it would be nice to know that if it came to that, that she'd stay with me. Because she loves me. Really loves me.
The aforementioned Sporty Affair clouds, fogs in and hails the issue.
Everybody wants to be loved. Me included.
Barkeep....two shots of clarity, and not the well brand.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
So I got robbed
Vent post #4
This was less traumatic than I thought it would be, but more of a expected that I guess was inevitable. This is real life. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad. And real life isn't always pretty.
So sometime between yesterday and today, I got my virginity taken. No, not that virginity, I lost that two or three weeks ago. My other virginity. No, not that one either. Dirty minded sons of... My home burglary virginity.
Broken window. Alarm destroyed. Missing stuff.
They just finished getting my internet back up and running and I'm waiting on the window and the alarm guy now. Then maybe I'll eat something. Has it been that long?
For the record, you don't realize the difference until you actually go back to the CRT monitor. It's really rather noticeable.
Barkeep...they didn't take the Whiskey? Yeah!
This was less traumatic than I thought it would be, but more of a expected that I guess was inevitable. This is real life. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad. And real life isn't always pretty.
So sometime between yesterday and today, I got my virginity taken. No, not that virginity, I lost that two or three weeks ago. My other virginity. No, not that one either. Dirty minded sons of... My home burglary virginity.
Broken window. Alarm destroyed. Missing stuff.
They just finished getting my internet back up and running and I'm waiting on the window and the alarm guy now. Then maybe I'll eat something. Has it been that long?
For the record, you don't realize the difference until you actually go back to the CRT monitor. It's really rather noticeable.
Barkeep...they didn't take the Whiskey? Yeah!
Friday, August 15, 2008
It just keeps coming and coming and .....
Mental Rehab Post #14
Life is the thing that happens while you're making plans, or so they say. I'm really wishing there was a pause button somewhere so I could stop and take stock of everything that's changed in past 6 months. A whole lot going on, a lot of it outside of my control. It's really testing my 5% theory of unpredictability. Cheesy commentary aside, sometimes it's about feeling you at least had a say in what happens to you.
I got a lot on my mind lately. Dredging up that memory from college was eye opening to say the least, and my realization how it has affected me was a revelation. Not to say that realizing why I do some of the things I do will make me not do them, but it will make think about my actions more. Introspection shouldn't be a bad experience, unless you've forgotten more about who you are than you know now. I think I forgot a lot on purpose.
But things are in flux. Almost too many.
"Storm" by il nastro di mobius
School - It's amazing how much and how little the school experience has changed. Everything is electronic and yet it's as though we're all still doing it on paper. The ease of doing everything online is stymied by the concept of systems failing to update, antiquated back systems and the stress of trying to do all of it part time. But my books did come in.
Work - It's as though I work with unbalanced circus monkeys afflicted with ADD. And it's not going to get better.
House - The pleasure of ownership is still currently only JUST outweighing the problems of having. There as so many little things that still need to be done, and when you get one thing done the next looms so large. My house still feels like it's temporary, like I'm only staying there until my real life starts. It's a feeling I have about my life as well.
My New Social Situation - Hello oblivion. Be there in a minute. Everyone I know says that law school is all consuming. That's just great. Peachy. Wooooo. Can't wait. Bassids.
My Folks - The people who were adults when I was kid are...getting old. My dad always jokes that considering "it is better than the alternative." And I'm getting concerned.
Bills - I would be an American not named Gates, Buffett or Kennedy. I have bills.
Football - Dammit Jessica, the Cowboys need get to Tampa this season. I know it's all love and belt buckles with you and Tony but we don't need them distractions in the NFC east. This is where Champions are born. That and I so want to go see the old stadium just one time and the new stadium when it's done.
Sporty - Still dreaming about her. Still thinking about her. Still love her. And I always will.
My Health - There are some things that hurt that probably shouldn't. And I need to get back in the gym something terrible
My Friends - much like my family, my friends are changing growing and well, getting on with life. Some are having real problems which make mine esoteric by comparison. And I think about them all the time. Friends are the family you get to pick.
The Future - With so many things in flux, so many changes, so many plans that right now I feel like I'm not me, like I'm living my life for other people, not doing the things I want to do. It is not a pleasant feeling. I like shaving. And since so much fell apart in the past few months..it's like a spilled my drink on that piece of paper with the secret of life.
Six months ago I had a plan. I had a dream. I had at least a pathway. And now I'm just kinda going through the motions to get to wherever the next step is. True, Law School probably isn't the easiest step, and not really my first, second or even fifteenth choice of career...but I then what I do now wasn't even on the list. But like I'm drafting for my Superbowl team, it's the best available option right now. I'd hoped to have a little side project off the ground before I started, but things are in such flux. Still I'm going to need make some changes...fundamental changes... so that I have at least the illusion of the semblance of control.
Barkeep. A little bit of a dream...mix in some being too.
Life is the thing that happens while you're making plans, or so they say. I'm really wishing there was a pause button somewhere so I could stop and take stock of everything that's changed in past 6 months. A whole lot going on, a lot of it outside of my control. It's really testing my 5% theory of unpredictability. Cheesy commentary aside, sometimes it's about feeling you at least had a say in what happens to you.
I got a lot on my mind lately. Dredging up that memory from college was eye opening to say the least, and my realization how it has affected me was a revelation. Not to say that realizing why I do some of the things I do will make me not do them, but it will make think about my actions more. Introspection shouldn't be a bad experience, unless you've forgotten more about who you are than you know now. I think I forgot a lot on purpose.
But things are in flux. Almost too many.
"Storm" by il nastro di mobiusSchool - It's amazing how much and how little the school experience has changed. Everything is electronic and yet it's as though we're all still doing it on paper. The ease of doing everything online is stymied by the concept of systems failing to update, antiquated back systems and the stress of trying to do all of it part time. But my books did come in.
Work - It's as though I work with unbalanced circus monkeys afflicted with ADD. And it's not going to get better.
House - The pleasure of ownership is still currently only JUST outweighing the problems of having. There as so many little things that still need to be done, and when you get one thing done the next looms so large. My house still feels like it's temporary, like I'm only staying there until my real life starts. It's a feeling I have about my life as well.
My New Social Situation - Hello oblivion. Be there in a minute. Everyone I know says that law school is all consuming. That's just great. Peachy. Wooooo. Can't wait. Bassids.
My Folks - The people who were adults when I was kid are...getting old. My dad always jokes that considering "it is better than the alternative." And I'm getting concerned.
Bills - I would be an American not named Gates, Buffett or Kennedy. I have bills.
Football - Dammit Jessica, the Cowboys need get to Tampa this season. I know it's all love and belt buckles with you and Tony but we don't need them distractions in the NFC east. This is where Champions are born. That and I so want to go see the old stadium just one time and the new stadium when it's done.
Sporty - Still dreaming about her. Still thinking about her. Still love her. And I always will.
My Health - There are some things that hurt that probably shouldn't. And I need to get back in the gym something terrible
My Friends - much like my family, my friends are changing growing and well, getting on with life. Some are having real problems which make mine esoteric by comparison. And I think about them all the time. Friends are the family you get to pick.
The Future - With so many things in flux, so many changes, so many plans that right now I feel like I'm not me, like I'm living my life for other people, not doing the things I want to do. It is not a pleasant feeling. I like shaving. And since so much fell apart in the past few months..it's like a spilled my drink on that piece of paper with the secret of life.
Six months ago I had a plan. I had a dream. I had at least a pathway. And now I'm just kinda going through the motions to get to wherever the next step is. True, Law School probably isn't the easiest step, and not really my first, second or even fifteenth choice of career...but I then what I do now wasn't even on the list. But like I'm drafting for my Superbowl team, it's the best available option right now. I'd hoped to have a little side project off the ground before I started, but things are in such flux. Still I'm going to need make some changes...fundamental changes... so that I have at least the illusion of the semblance of control.
Barkeep. A little bit of a dream...mix in some being too.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
A Man of the People?
This is a political post.
I don't do many of these, my views on politics are particularly slanted towards people who don't live by the mantra of free market and no taxes until something goes wrong, in which case they then scream and cry that the government needs to do something. I find it just a wee bit hypocritical. I only going to discuss politics when something catches my eye.
The latest concept of Republican's versus the Democrats has the GOP attempting to paint it's opponent in the general election, Mr. Obama, as elitist and out of touch with America.
This is after they realized they really couldn't play the race card.
This is after they realized talk of his lack of experience wasn't getting the desired effect.
This is after claiming he didn't sweat while working out must mean he's the anti-Christ.
I only semi made that last one up.
So how do you make a man who was raised by a single mother and his grandparents, worked as a community organizer, who's former job specialized in civil rights and neighborhood development and who still goes to his kids soccer games appear elitist?
Especially when compared to a man who's family was wealthy (his father and grandfather both admirals, not swabbies), who in his second marriage attached to a still wealthier family who gave him a cushy job and from there he moved directly to the Congress?
Don't ask me how, but they've done it before. Remember Dubya as someone you'd like to have a beer with? I mean really. Was that all it took? His family is the like an off-Brand Kennedy clan. I'm still wondering exactly how that happened. Twice.
Call me crazy, but how about a President who actually acts like a President? Someone who doesn't make up his mind before he has all the information, and isn't afraid to alter the plan if the circumstances change. Sometimes you need to make a change. Maybe someone who realizes that a lot of people aren't all for him and that they need to be respected as well. You know, act kinda like the rest of America and most of humanity when leading us?
So exactly how does a man who has pretty much lived outside the bounds of normal life - Military to cushy family job to politics - come across as a "regular" guy? Against a guy who actually went out and got a job - law professor based on his work in law school?
Here's a tip. Look at the shoes.
Here's Obama.
Well worn. Used. Practical.
Barkeep. Gimmie a little honesty with a dash of daring. No ice.
I don't do many of these, my views on politics are particularly slanted towards people who don't live by the mantra of free market and no taxes until something goes wrong, in which case they then scream and cry that the government needs to do something. I find it just a wee bit hypocritical. I only going to discuss politics when something catches my eye.
The latest concept of Republican's versus the Democrats has the GOP attempting to paint it's opponent in the general election, Mr. Obama, as elitist and out of touch with America.
This is after they realized they really couldn't play the race card.
This is after they realized talk of his lack of experience wasn't getting the desired effect.
This is after claiming he didn't sweat while working out must mean he's the anti-Christ.
I only semi made that last one up.
So how do you make a man who was raised by a single mother and his grandparents, worked as a community organizer, who's former job specialized in civil rights and neighborhood development and who still goes to his kids soccer games appear elitist?
Especially when compared to a man who's family was wealthy (his father and grandfather both admirals, not swabbies), who in his second marriage attached to a still wealthier family who gave him a cushy job and from there he moved directly to the Congress?
Don't ask me how, but they've done it before. Remember Dubya as someone you'd like to have a beer with? I mean really. Was that all it took? His family is the like an off-Brand Kennedy clan. I'm still wondering exactly how that happened. Twice.
Call me crazy, but how about a President who actually acts like a President? Someone who doesn't make up his mind before he has all the information, and isn't afraid to alter the plan if the circumstances change. Sometimes you need to make a change. Maybe someone who realizes that a lot of people aren't all for him and that they need to be respected as well. You know, act kinda like the rest of America and most of humanity when leading us?
So exactly how does a man who has pretty much lived outside the bounds of normal life - Military to cushy family job to politics - come across as a "regular" guy? Against a guy who actually went out and got a job - law professor based on his work in law school?
Here's a tip. Look at the shoes.
Here's Obama.
Well worn. Used. Practical.And I understand McCain has been wearing black calfskin Salvatore Ferragamo ‘Pregiato’ Moccasins. Really really nice shoes.
Do I begrudge the guy for wearing nice shoes? He's an old guy, he needs good shoes. But then as most of us can't spend that much on shoes, even really good ones that will last years, who really fits more in the "above the crowd" slot?
Do I begrudge the guy for wearing nice shoes? He's an old guy, he needs good shoes. But then as most of us can't spend that much on shoes, even really good ones that will last years, who really fits more in the "above the crowd" slot?
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