The Redneck Science Project

I was talking to the "construction crew" (I use the term very loosely. It is more like the "isn't it time for break" crew) yesterday afternoon and they were trying to find where the water lines were buried on the property. I half jokingly asked if they were ready to break out the "divining rods." The reply was "I could probably witch some up." All I had to do was plant the seed of an idea and redneck curiosity took over. After the crew took a 2 1/2 hour lunch, I happened to look out my living room window and there all three of them are standing in the driveway with homemade divining rods trying to find the water lines. Every time they thought the diving rods had located the water lines, they would scratch out a big "X" with their foot, and laugh a maniacal laugh like they had just brought Frankenstein to life. "X" doesn't necessarily mark the spot when it comes to the "water whisperers", so I am probably going to end up with a yard full of big holes and no water. They did manage to find the mud puddle located right in front of them. Bill Nye the Science Guy and Larry the Cable Guy would be proud of them.

Bad Dreams

Last night was a rough night. I had bad dreams all night long, I didn't turn the heat on, my girlfriend kept stealing the covers, and I stayed cold all night long. Being scared, cold, and pissed is not conducive to a good sleeping environment.

One of the bad dreams I had involved me getting fired from my job and losing my home on the same day. I am getting ready to return to work and I am having issues at my house (I am temporarily displaced now) so any first year psychology student could figure that one out.

The second dream may have been the scariest one of them all. I dreamed I got a girl pregnant. Being 50 years old, that one scared the hell out of me. I do not have any children of my own and the prospect of changing diapers at my age does not interest me at all. I would be 68 by the time the kid got out of high school. Talk about your generation gaps, damn, that would be one. How would I throw the baseball/softball around with him/her when I have bad knees, a blown out rotator cuff, and my feet are so bad I can barely stand up.

Unfinished Business

I have worked in several locations (with the same company) over the years and every once in a great while, I will go back to visit and see if there is anyone left from when I worked there. I get such a feeling of melancholy when I go back to one of my old locations. As soon as I pull into the parking lot, this bad feeling comes over me like one of impending doom. It is like a dark cloud is following me around when I walk into this store. No one that works here is happy and filters down to every aspect of the business-the customers, the vendors, and the employees. I still make the rare attempt to rescue my friends that are still there but I agree with Friedrich Nietzsche when he said "Sometimes when you stare into the abyss the abyss stares back into you."

One store I worked at near Charlotte, NC, now those guys were my crew. I would go to work in the mornings and half of them would be passed out in their cars from a night out of drinking and I would have to go car to car and wake them up so they could clock in and go to work. We made going to one of the local strip clubs a regular Friday night event so we could blow off some steam. I liked to believe that an event like that was "team building." The company I worked for just thought we were being sleazy and enacted a plan to get rid of all of us. The company eventually did manage to get rid of all of us but we still had a hell of a time before they did. I really miss those guys.

Falling Down

I try to approach everything I do or that happens in my life with a sense of humor. Sometimes it takes me a while to find the funny in things but I usually get there. This post is a tongue in cheek look at everything that has been going on in my life for the past couple of months and any of the possible responses I could make.

Things have not gone well for me the past couple of months. It seems that everyone that has had the opportunity to take a shot at me has. It doesn't matter who they were- big corporations, my place of employment, doctors, and even a few of my friends- have all had me in their crosshairs. I was sitting here this afternoon after receiving the latest punch to the nads and I thought of the movie Falling Down with Michael Douglas.

The story line is that he plays a common working man, wears a tie, carries a briefcase, he has been laid off from his job and he has finally had enough. He has had one bad break too many. My favorite scene had to be where he goes into the fast food restaurant to get something to eat. All he wants is breakfast and he is three minutes too late (that is the story of my life). His reaction is one that a lot of us would like to have. He pulls out the submachine gun and demands his breakfast. That is not too much to ask. I have noticed that a lot of these fast food places now serve breakfast all day. I went into Bojangle's about 11 AM and they did not have grits. I should have demanded my grits. I wanted my grits.

I am not a violent person and I could never rise to the level of violence in Falling Down. I probably fantasize about being able to stand up for myself like Michael Douglas's character more than I should and after reading this, I am sure most experts would say that I am a psychotic break away from making it happen. No, that will not be me so I guess I will just have to sit back and hope that "karmatic" justice happens soon (and I just made karmatic a word).

Why I Write

I write for the sake of writing. I will admit that I do get a charge out of someone reading (or at least I think they are reading) my blogs, my posts, or anything else for that matter. I remember reading in Stephen King's book On Writing that he said something to the effect of he writes because he enjoys it and he would still be doing it even if he wasn't making any money doing it. Not many people read what I write but that is alright. My writing about the Seattle Seahawks, the Los Angeles Dodgers, or my dog Molly is not changing lives.

A very small percentage of writers make it big or even published. I decided to use the social media to try to expand my audience. I post my blogs on Twitter nut I also interact with other people on Twitter and I try to make sure it is a positive experience, at least as far as I am concerned. I have gotten some nice comments even if only 20 people are reading my posts.

The other night the unthinkable happened and I got "trolled." I may not know who actually did it but I know who put them up to it. When I found this out I immediately went into self preservation mode and I protected all of my tweets. I also noticed an immediate and drastic drop in readers of my blogs. That really bothered me because by protecting my tweets, the troll was able to dictate what I was doing and how I went about doing it. I decided I am not going to allow that to happen. I write because I enjoy it. If the troll and her handler cannot handle their jealous impulses, I will take care of that when that time comes.

Working With Steve

I have to make my inglorious return to work in a couple of weeks. That has the makings of an outstanding adventure. I have been out of work for about six months now and while I have been gone, Steve AKA Drunkenstein, has started working for the organization that I work for. He got the job with no assistance from me so I applaud him for that. I do not think I am going to be working directly with Steve when I go back to work but it should be interesting nonetheless. I keep seeing an image of Otis Campbell of the fictional town of Mayberry getting a job. Steve keeps turning up in my life like a bad penny.

Steve has kept in touch, mostly through drunken text messages, since he moved out ten months ago. I can always tell when he has gotten a snootful. The text messages make no sense at all and all of the words are badly misspelled. It makes me laugh but I try not to get into too many extended text conversations with him.