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Man At Arms
Just Thinking
I don't have any health insurance right now: I lost it when I turned 19 because I'm not currently enrolled in college. I made the decision and I don't mind, it's just odd to think that if I get hurt I'm totally screwed. That's life, I guess. The good news is none of my old injuries are flaring up and since I'm not planning on getting hit by a truck any time soon it shouldn't be an issue.
I'm taking the Rochester PD civil service exam soon; I should ace it, because I always ace tests like this--and I mean really ace, like close to perfect--but even if I do it doesn't really mean a whole lot. I'm still just a HS graduate with no college degree and two disorderly conducts from two years ago. I'm worried my white male from the upper middle class status will work against me. I'm just hoping that if I do well enough on the test, if I do a lot better than the average applicant, things will swing my way.
I'm not sure where I'll be this time next year, though I only can imagine two scenarios. One is at six months in the USMC or Army, and the other is a soon-to-be-cop. I'm ready to follow either path, though given how much my life has changed I'd honestly prefer the second for now. I still want to serve and if I have to go now, I will, but I don't think I'm really ready to leave anymore. I'd just rather make the choice myself to go rather than be forced into it because all of my other options fizzled.
Speaking of leaving, it hurts me to think that I'll have to leave this town. There's so much I love about Fairport, and I've lived here 17 years. All of the memories I really cherish--the ones that swell my chest with pride or bring tears to my eyes--they're all here. It's easy to say I'm going to leave but when I walk the Erie Canal or run the leaf strewn trails in Mendon East; when I stand on Indian Hill and look out across the town or at Woodcliff after a nice run on the Crescent Trail, it feels so wrong to leave it all. I don't know where I'll end up, but I wish it could be here. Maybe I will.
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Forgotten Treasures
It's always a treat to find something I completely forgot I owned just in time for it to make my life a little better. For example, I'm reading a book right now that I bought at least a year ago and thought I read, but on page 35 I'm just starting to realize that I don't remember it at all. Also, none of the corner folds present in every single paperback I own are there, which is what really convinced me that I had not in fact read it before. This is a nice surprise because the book is exactly what I'm in the mood to read and it's the only book I own that has a completely new story between its covers. Good stuff.
Now that I think about it I remember what happened. It was a new book in the Redwall series out on paperback, the latest one back then, which means it was considerably more than a year ago. At the time I was reading the second book of a six book series in a totally different genre and it wasn't until a week ago that I read any of the Redwall books again. I usually read books in big clumps: I'll sit down and read an entire lineup by a favored author, for example, and buy the books out on paperback since the last time I ran through his books. In the last week I've read nine Redwall books, skipping the hardcovers that I didn't bring with me to Thanksgiving. When I'm done with these--including the two paperbacks I haven't bought yet--I'm going to buy a batch of books from a new author, or possibly I'll expand my Heinlein library. I'm not sure if I'm in the mood for Charles de Lint's 'urban fantasy' right now, but given how much I love
The Little Country, I might give the rest of his writing a shot (I read
Someplace to be Flying and it was a little strange, but that was four years ago at least and I haven't seen the book recently so I haven't re-read it. It's the only other de Lint book I've read from his 54 published
works to date.)
By the way, I'd highly recommend reading
The Little Country to anyone that reads this; it's one of the most beautifully constructed stories I've read. Ever. Maybe I'm particularly susceptible to its charm, but every time I read it--probably every four months--I fall in love with it all over again. It's one of those books that makes me feel like grabbing a keyboard by the throat and choking a story of my own out of it. To me, inspiration shows a good story, and great inspiration shows a great story.
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Speaking of Names...
By far the hardest part of writing for me is coming up with good names. Some people may disagree with me here, but in my experience the name suggests a great deal about the character and influences the character's development significantly. Also, I like authenticity, so for example if I'm writing something in a medieval setting, I'll expend a great deal of time naming my characters properly. I'm not just talking about naming characters, though, naming places is even harder!
The key to writing successful fiction is creating a believable world that readers can fall into without snapping out of your spell every minute or so. Good naming goes a long way there.
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To Nym or Not to Nym
I've thought frequently about whether or not it would be right for me to publish something under a pseudonym, should I ever get to that point with my writing. Like anything else, there are pros and cons, so let's explore that, shall we?
I guess the real thing that attracts me to a pen name is the anonymity and the freedom anonymity grants. I feel like it would allow me to forget the worries of what people will think of me--they're probably baseless anyway, but try telling my brain that. Also, it might let me get some truly objective feedback from my friends and relatives that might otherwise be less than honest in their opinion. Close friends and relatives would not be fooled, as they're an integral part of my writing process, but it's a neat tool to have.
Now, I rebel against the idea of hiding from my critics. If it's worthy of being published (and it's a novel--different story for magazine short stories and stuff) then it's probably not crap anyway. I'm proud of who I am and what I've accomplished so far, so why should I hide? The lack of objectivity on the part of acquaintances and such is a real issue, but I'm sure I could trust my close friends and family to be honest and unbiased, especially if I begged them for real criticism.
Maybe I can follow both paths. I doubt I'd publish a novel under another name, but there's a certain amount of fun I can have with a pseudonym that might make it worth using for short stories. Just something to think about some more I guess.
Update: As an afterthought, since I'm interested in exploring several different genres, it might be a good idea to separate them by the name I write under. There's something to be said for keeping your reputation as a writer under a particular name pure.
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The State of Dave
I've been kind of following politics again the last few days, and one thing that really stuck out was the Cox and Forkum cartoon-commentary on the Iran / Britain+Germany+France (
here) nuclear deal. Just one thought: whatever happened to following the spirit of the law as well as the letter? There's this little thing called a preemptive strike, and I think maybe we should thinkg about exercising it on Iran. They've already threatened us with nuclear weapons if they can get them, and in my world there are three words that combine to justify the use of force against someone else: opportunity, capability, and intent.
So far they have satisfied intent and are very hard at work on the capability. Opportunity is a given because they won't employ a MIRV or anything like that, they'll simply drop a few suitcase nukes in NYC or DC. If 95% of illicit drugs can get into this country without detection, so can a nuke or three. How about we just say best two out of three, screw the capability, and crush them? The US ain't gonna be tried in court like I would be for shooting someone in self defense, so we have a little more flexibility.
Anyway, on to other things. I've been writing a bit recently, though not as much as I'd like. I'm probably spending too much time thinking about the craft and not enough actually doing it, but there it is. The writing is coming along, that's what's important. I have one fantasy story going pretty well and several others in development, including a decent size creation project.
My training is coming along very well also; I've shed almost all of my excess fat and seen some impressive gains in strength and endurance in the last few months. I'm maintaining my running at about 50 miles a week, and I'm looking for crosstraining methods for the winter. Snowshoe running looks promising, and I'll probably spend some time on XC Skis if we get decent snow this year. For the spring I'd love to start kayaking, and swimming is definitely on my list. If I can afford it I'll buy some rollerskis in the spring as well. I'm stepping up my aerobic training from just running to running and biking supplemented with boxing and martial arts training--not the Tae Bo shit either, I mean rounds against a heavy bag and shadow boxing type stuff. I dug out the old piston rowing machine too; it makes me feel muscles I didn't know existed in my back and forearms. Good stuff, but I have to watch my left shoulder: I really do not want a repeat of my torn deltoid. The joint has enough problems being crooked and rolled forward without a lot of pain and aching, thank you very much.
I've got a new/old project to occupy my creative energies for a while. I've wanted to redo my room for some time, and now I think I finally will. It's kind of my obligation to my parents to fix up my room after an entire lifetime of abuse anyway, but when I'm finished this will be the nicest room in the house. I'd love to take some before/during/after shots and post them, and I probably will, but they'll have to wait until I get around to getting my own website.
Finally, a lot of good friendships have blossomed in the last few weeks, a fact which I am eternally grateful for. I'm happy, and I'm on a good path. Thanks to all of you that are making my life worth living and keeping me going.
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Fucking A
It's nice to be criticized for everything you did wrong and given no credit for the things you did right. It's even better when you had no idea you were doing something very hurtful because the person you were hurting said you weren't! There's a word for this sort of thing: BULLSHIT.
I never knew how much it bothered Erin that I didn't go to some of the social stuff she did with her family and friends, because she didn't tell me, and now every time we talk she brings it up. To hear her tell it I was NEVER there, I NEVER supported her in anything, and I refused flat out to have anything at all to do with her family and friends despite her pleading.
Now let's look at my perception of how things went. You should understand that I'm very uncomfortable with large groups of people, and a lot of her friends aren't really the type of people I have things in common with. I did do a lot of stuff with her family, despite her claims, and on the whole I'd say I did more than I didn't. I didn't keep score, but that's what I seem to remember. There were a few occasions when I did refuse to do something, but most of the time she said it was okay if I didn't because she knew it would make me really uncomfortable. Sometimes I said it and sometimes I didn't, but I would have done that stuff no matter how much it bothered me if I'd known how much it meant to her. I thought she was respecting my feelings and making a compromise! Guess not, huh. I didn't find out until we broke up (and it was convenient for her to have ammunition against me) just how much it hurt her.
The other night when I brought up the fact that she never told me that it hurt her, she called me an idiot for believing her. Hmm, what? I'm stupid for trusting the woman I love to tell me how she really feels? Where's the logic in that? I'm sensing a lack of culpability here, or maybe an exaggerated sense of hurt now that she's hunting for reasons to hate me. Look, guys, I do feel shitty for not doing that stuff; I regret every single way I ever hurt her, and I would fix it if I could. But I can't, and like I've said, all I can do is change the way I act now. I have.
Let's not sugarcoat the situation though; Erin hurt me in many ways too, it's just that I let them go, and most of them I can't even remember because I knew she wasn't doing it on purpose. I don't hold grudges, and I can readily forgive most things, even if I don't forget them. I'm not going to elaborate on the ways that she hurt me that I do remember, but I've forgiven the vast majority of those more major hurts as well. I thought most of the hurts I dealt her were forgiven, if not forgotten, and I'm just now finding out how wrong I was for imagining that. One thing that really bothers me is how she can forgive someone else for near exact injuries and not forgive me. I guess the real difference between us is when I look back on our relationship I look past the bad and see the amazing, the great things that I really miss. She looks back and sees everything I did wrong to the exclusion of good things.
I will say that despite everything I ranted about here, I take everything she says with a grain of salt and try not to let it hurt me, because of the situation we're in. The women in my life are prone to saying very hurtful things that they may not mean totally in moments of anger or distress, so I just keep that in mind. I can remember her smile when she was truly happy, the light of love in her beautiful chromatically insecure eyes, and that alone reassures me.
This whole series of events has made me evolve several times, and each for the better. I wasn't the guy I wanted to be before, and I know I wasn't there for her 100% or even close, but I did try my best. Now, after it's too late, I am exactly what I wanted to be. I won't elaborate on this either, but it will suffice to say that for the first time in my life I'm truly happy with who I am. I think I've become a much better person through everything, and though the cost in pain weighs heavily on my heart, I am glad to have paid it.
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Friends and Angels
I love my friends. I've been having a real tough time of it lately, and they're always there for me, even if it means listening to me ramble on about the same old stuff over and over as I search for the answer to my pain. Mostly, though, I love them for the times when they can make me forget my pain entirely.
Tonight I had the best conversation in recent memory with a girl I spend far too little time talking to. She made me laugh and smile like nobody has in months, and I think that maybe tonight I can carry this feeling with me to sleep. I just pray her grandfather is alright; our conversation was briefly interrupted when she got an emergency call. Of everyone I know, barring myself, she's the biggest geek yet, and I mean that in a very complimentary fashion. So thank you, if you read this--you know who you are.
Now about angels. I'm not a religious guy, but recently I've had some incidents that shook my non-faith. Last night I had a dream, the specifics of which are very jumbled, except for the feelings I still feel and a few fleeting images. I was in a room with two women, a brunette with dusky skin and dark, beautiful eyes and a pale redhead whose face I could not clearly see. I guess we were talking, and I felt this rush of warmth--of love--the feeling of being truly wanted. I awoke and felt wonderful; I can still feel that warmth deep inside me. Tonight, instead of fighting my demons as I fall to sleep, desperate to avoid them, I will concentrate on that dream, on the two angels that visited me last night, and welcome them into my heart.
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Priorities
It's funny how my priorities have changed in the last few weeks. Everything that seemed important before is nothing to me now, because I've had a chance to see what's truly important in my life now that I lost it.
I'm in love, so deep in love, with the girl that left me about seven weeks ago. For a bit after we broke up I thought I was okay, and I even dabbled with the idea of dating someone else. I was in shock, I guess, or just enjoying the change of pace.
No thank you. Every time I even consider someone else it comes down to one thing: they're not Erin, and they can't ever be what she is to me. I miss her so much that I ache all the time, I want to fall to my knees and scream and cry her name every couple minutes and it's all I can do not to break down and weep in front of my family. I was a fool for hurting her like I did, and more of a fool for not fighting right at the end and letting our relationship just collapse.
Erin means everything to me... Everything. I used to care about politics, guns, the military, and going out west, but none of that means anything anymore because I can't share it with her. I'll admit that sometimes I let my own dreams get in my way of seeing hers, and I feel horrible about it. I'm down here in Cuba, NY, at my uncle's house, and tomorrow's the regular deer season opening day. I should be excited, but instead I just feel hollow and I'm dreading spending all day alone in the woods with my thoughts, without any distraction.
Everything that used to give me joy is just a mindless activity now... I enjoy learning and shooting and everything, but the real joy I got from telling her about it. All I want now is to see her smile, to hear her whisper 'I love you' in my ear, to wake me up with a smile in the afternoon when she gets home from class... We lived that life for so long, and without it, I don't know where I am. I want to lay beside her, curled up on the bed, watching movies... I just don't know what to do without her love in my life.
I don't think I showed her how much I loved her enough. I hate myself for it, I hate myself for all the ways I hurt her. A lot of the time I hurt her without meaning to, and I wish I could make it up to her, but she won't let me. I know I can't make up for some of the things I did. I can't believe I imagined I could live my life and be okay alone again after so long basking in the light of her love. 2.5 years almost to the day we were together... and we went through so much, I thought our love was so strong after all the problems we overcame that it could handle everything. Erin thought so too, when I told her how I might have to leave to enlist... she was confident we'd last.
Erin became a part of my family. I still haven't told my grandmother we aren't together, because it'll break her heart... She really loves Erin, and she was convinced we would be together for the rest of our lives. She saw the true love between us and I can't bear to tell her the truth, wrong as it is. I regret not spending more time with Erin's family, not becoming one of her family members too. That's one of the ways I hurt her without meaning to.
She changed me, she made me appreciate so much that I had ignored before, and she let me see a lot of beauty in the world. The greatest beauty of all was inside her, and I could just glimpse it when I looked into her eyes.
I don't know what else to say. I know I wasn't everything I should have been, and now that I want to be there for her more than anything, I don't know if I'll ever get the chance. I want to give her the life she wants and deserves, I want to make her happier than any other woman. We built a future together, and I want to make it a reality, and better than either of us imagined.
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Open Source Novel... Kind Of
I think it would be very cool to write a novel with one or several other authors one chapter at a time, taking turns to write with no exchange of ideas between the participants. It'd be a totally unpredictable and stimulating exercise: there would be no planning ahead because you never could know when another author might decide your darling character needs to fall off a cliff or something equally tragic.
As for the quality of the story... I believe it could be either a total disaster or a spectacular success, without much middle ground. I also have no basis for that statement, it's just my instinct. Maybe someday I'll find someone to try it with, and find out.
Holy crap, it's four AM. 3.75 hours of sleep, here I come.
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Not Much Here
I've not been writing much lately for a variety of reasons. No, I'm not intending to stop this blog, I'm just concentrating on many things that don't have much of a place here.
It's break time in my life; I've been following politics and worrying about the health of the world for ten months now, and I definitely need some time to stop worrying about that stuff and get my real life problems taken care of. I hardly even read my blogroll lately, even though I've read every single article in a dozen blogs since January and I actually didn't like to go on trips because I didn't like missing them. Yeah, I was addicted, and I think worrying so much about all these big nation-size problems affected my personal relationships, even.
I've been spending a lot of time with my writing, music, training, and just with myself in the last two weeks. I know I talk about my life on here sometimes, which isn't what I intended this blog to be, but that's what happens when I need to talk and there's nobody to listen to me. I'm a pretty open person but I know a lot of people don't really give a shit for reading about my problems, which is why I don't necessarily want to turn this into a story-of-Dave's-life-journal.
Anyway, I'm still here, so don't give up on me.
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Inheritance
I've been doing some research on the older shotguns I inherited from my great uncles and grandfathers lately, specifically the Winchester Model 12 and Remington Model 31. I'm very glad I chose to buy a new shotgun for home defense now, instead of chopping down one of their barrels!
My Model 12 is a plain, full choke 28" barrel pump 12 gauge. Honestly I don't like the loading system or the action as much as some other designs, but it shoulders better than any other long gun I've ever held, including rifles. Also, it holds six shells as opposed to five. The loading system I can get used to, but if you slip all the shells in the tube come flying out; maybe my shotgun is broken, but that's annoying. The action is funny because to cycle it you have to push the forend forward a tiny bit before it moves back after firing. Again, I can get used to it just fine, it's just different.
The Model 31* is easily the nicest pump I've ever had the pleasure of holding. The action is smoother than either of my Ithaca 37s--the second smoothest actions I've ever felt, I might add--and there's none of the rattle even though the 31 also uses a single arm system. It was built in 1931, the first year of production. I'm actually taking it with me turkey hunting tomorrow, along with my Ithaca 37 16ga in case it doesn't pattern well for some reason. It's a full choke 12 gauge with either a 26 or 28 inch barrel. I'm too lazy to measure right now.
My forefathers sure did have good taste in firearms
(I got my Ithaca 37 16ga and Marlin 336 from them too). It's kind of heady for a gun geek like me to realize I own two of the best pump shotguns built in the first half of the 20th century. Maybe they're plain, but I'm not a superficial man. I'd be afraid to take them with me if I had to worry about dinging a gloss finish walnut stock or scuffing up some nice engraving anyway. The warmth
(I kid you not, it's warmth) I feel when I'm holding a fine gun comes from the smooth, oiled action, the grain of the wood, the feel of an amazing piece of machinery working just as it should. I'm not impressed with the frills.
*Even though the Model 31 is my favorite shotgun in my arsenal, I think the bottom loading and ejection of the Ithaca 37 is a better overall design. No shells fall out with that system, no matter how I hold it, unlike side ejection models. It's also somewhat easier to unload the Ithacas. What really turned the 31 into my favorite shotgun was the quality of the action, which feels like it runs on ball bearings.
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Hurt
It's hard to look at yourself through others' eyes. I don't necessarily agree with their opinion of me, but I do have to face the fact that somewhere along the way I did something bad to make them think of me like that.
For example: I'm in love with a woman, and we're not together, but I see she's having some real problems in her life and I want to help. She's with a guy I don't really like based on his actions, and I tell her so. My goal? Helping her, that's pretty much it; I'm not trying to break them up. Her view? I'm trying to weasel my way back into her life, ruin her relationship, and ultimately benefit only myself. Ouch. Do I deserve it? From one point of view, sure, but I guess either you could ask me what I'm up to and believe it or just believe I'm a lying scumbag based on one mistake that was mutually made.
There are a lot more comparable examples, but that one is just the first that came to mind. More than just one person sees it that way too. It's much harder for me to deal with the fact that someone I love has such a low opinion of me than to deal with the fact that I'm alone. Maybe I'm too image conscious, or maybe I'm just normal, but I hate how people believe I'm someone I'm not and jump to a lot of conclusions based on that misconception. My mother, ex-girlfriend, and the previously mentioned woman all do it.
To hear some people tell it, my past is completely different than what I actually lived. Nobody stops to ask me what I was thinking, or why I did what I did, or even what I
really did! The lie is simply accepted as the truth after a certain number of repititions, and nothing I do now can reverse that evolution of my past.
I know I've made a lot of mistakes in the last few years, and some of them were pretty huge, but I've also done a lot of good, and somehow that good is ignored or lost in the shuffle. I've done what I can to make up for my sins, I think, and now I've moved on. The last three or so years have brought me to be who I am today, and I'm happy with who I am. I haven't really changed; I'm still the same guy, just refined, as it were.
All I can offer is the future, to do better than I have and learn from those mistakes so I don't make them again. I think that's all anyone can reasonably ask.
P.S. By the way, any of the people mentioned herein that read it are probably going to try to castrate me for telling my point of view. I get that a lot these days. I'm not lashing out at anyone, I'm just trying to let out some emotional pressure here because none of the people I called to talk to were around, and this is one way for me to say what I need to say.
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Sometimes...
it's all worth it. Every so often something happens that makes me really happy, with myself and the world, for an hour or two.
Tonight I helped a friend, someone I haven't given anything to in years, and I feel great. It's good to know that I'm still good for something, and that I can make someone else feel a little better and even make a real difference in her life.
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Loony Liberals
So the other day I has a pseudoconversation with someone I haven't spoken to in quite a while, about politics, and she apparently took my words to be a personal attack when I challenged her beliefs. I'll admit that I took a somewhat frustrated tone with her, for which I apologized later, and I thought that was the end of it.
Fast forward to five minutes ago. She's absolutely, rabidly anti-Bush, and in her profile she lists a whole bunch of problems she had with him. So, I simply asked what she thought was so wrong with the economy. This somehow makes me a 'pretentious bastard' for attempting to shed a little light on her ignorance? I attempted to have a civil debate with someone that I disagree with, something I manage to do with quite a few liberal friends on a regular basis, and this makes me the bad guy.
I'll admit, despite the very tiny impact this has on my life, it's upsetting to be the object of a personal attack for defending my beliefs and trying to dispel the effects of drinking liberal koolaid by the barrel with truth. It kind of cements in my mind how fucking crazy some of these people are, unwilling to accept reality and so convinced of their own moral superiority that disagreement is anathema and blasphemous.
I'm a pretentious bastard? Fuck that, I think she's just a bitch that can't handle having her delusions shattered. The difference here is that I can admit when I'm wrong.
Eh, I guess the thing that bothers me the most is my own illusion being broken down. I thought she was a logical, reasonable person, someone worth taking the time to talk to; I guess not.
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Voting
That was quite the exciting vote for me. There were four total voters there, including me and my mother, and we were the only ones in our district. I guess we came in at the first real lull of the day, or so the guy I talked to said; 1 PM and already over 50% of the registered voters had voted, mostly before work. He also said our district normally gets 80-90% turnout. Cool.
I voted for Bush, just like I said I would.
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Almost Over
I'm sick of this election. I started following this back when there were still 9 candidates in the Democrat primary, a long, long time ago. I'm going to vote for Bush today, because he's handled the WoT well and I hope next term he takes down Iran and NK too. There are plenty of things I don't like about Bush, but I think the elimination of a fanatical enemy takes precendence over the domestic issues. If you disagree, you're an idiot, because it's a simple equation: ignore fanatical enemy, US gets destroyed, oh wait the domestic issues don't matter anymore because our country is dead.
When I ask people why they're going to vote for Kerry and rarely get an answer besides 'I hate Bush,' they say something like I like his stance on the environment, or health care, or jobs, or whatever. I'm amazed they can somehow know what his stance is, simply because he's flip flopped on every one of those a dozen times
(maybe it's a top secret Democrat mind link), but otherwise, it's utterly foolish to vote for a man who, in reality, is going to bow out of the fight that we need so desperately to win.
One of my acquaintances who is in an ROTC program appears to be voting for Kerry as well. This is pretty astonishing, since she's already contracted and she IS going into the Army in two years, and she appears to prefer a repeat of Clinton as CINC to a man who has shown he is infinitely better in caring for the military. Kerry, unless he turns over some hitherto unimagined leaf, will gut our armed forces; his record clearly supports this. I believe Kerry will be much worse for the military than Clinton ever was.
I'll admit that most of the people I know that are voting for Kerry are my age, and most likely uninformed. I can't educate them because they don't give a shit about important issues and are content to believe the propoganda. 'Bush has ruined our country' eh? How? Economy is on the rise bigtime, we've done a great job in Afghanistan and Iraq, there hasn't been a single terror attack in the US since 9/11... I could go on, but those are the most pertinent examples. I'm not a fan of the Patriot Act, or some of his other domestic policies, but like I said before: we must defeat the enemy without before we can defeat the enemy within.
This experience has just cemented the idea in my mind that you should never vote if you're uninformed. If you can't come up with a better reason for voting for someone than you hate the other guy, don't vote. If you think it's a virtue to vote with your heart and not with your head, first go headbutt a concrete block, and then don't vote. If you're going to be an idiot in any way about the greatest civic responsibility you have, the whole country is better off if you don't worry your little head: just don't vote.
Oh, I'm going to make a prediction. Bush is going to win, and by a good margin. I'm not going to present any details, because I'm not well enough informed to do so, but that's my feeling. The evidence is there showing Kerry's desperation, and you can feel it in every breath the dying donkey takes. Ciao, donks.
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Am I Really That Lazy?
It's literally unbelievable how much more I play cello when I don't have to go through a big ritual to get it ready. When I can just pick it up without moving a bunch of crap around I play five times as much, easily, and the most annoying thing in the whole process is tightening and loosening my bow. Maybe it's because I'm so used to computers doing exactly what I want, when I want it, but damn, am I lazy.
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No Words
Sometimes I read about something the government does that is so audacious, so fucking insolent, that I can hardly believe it. A good example is
this post.
Excuse me? This sort of thing makes me very,
very angry. Usually I have to go take out my built up aggression on my wavemaster for fifteen minutes until I'm calmed down. What the fuck makes these asshats think they can shove this bullshit down my throat? They think they can govern what I do out of country? Hmm, sorry guys, you can kiss my ass, if I want to smoke a Cuban cigar I'll do it. Fuckers.
Beyond the cigar part, I agree with the rest of the post. We're in desperate need of balancing the scales, here, and we have taken this shit silently for far too long.
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