I've been here one year as of Tuesday, I've been working at the same place as of Thursday. That's the longest time I've been anywhere since I graduated (longer if you count moving betwixt dorm rooms/buildings as "not the same place"). I start getting paid more next week (good thing it's the start of a new pay period) and I couldn't be happier about that. Hurray for $5000 raise! I'm trying to adopt a dog, specifically a border collie, from an animal shelter around here but I haven't heard back from the adoption agency yet, I'm going to play D&D tomorrow... It's like I've established a routine or something. I didn't win anything at the Christmas party this year (same as last year), I spent about 4 hours underwater this week, and my car is slowly (and sometimes not so) falling apart. I learned the scale for bagpipe last week and will hopefully be starting lessons this week. It snowed ~1.5 inches last Saturday and has been alternately warm and freezing this week.
That's all I can think of right now for this episode of "What has been happening with Justin's life". Well, all that I can think of that's fit to share on the internet anyway...
Friday, December 11, 2009
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sometimes you seize the day...
Other times the day seizes you.
Picture this:
There is a large man with a beer gut, a total of three teeth and 11 toes. He stands about 6'6" and weighs a meager 375lbs and his name is Leroy. Leroy has been in prison for the past 10 years and he's startin' to get REEEEEAAAAAL lonely and he thinks you've got a purdy mouth.
Actually, let me take that back. That analogy would imply that I had one big problem, which is patently untrue. Today was more along the lines of this:
You're Joe Pesci trying to break into the McAllister's house while they are on Christmas vacation, but this little twerp has been plunking away at you with his BB gun all evening, and you'd wring the little bastard's neck if you could just get ahold of him, but unfortunately he's turned the entire sidewalk to ice which results in you losing your footing and landing squarely on your ass. Once you finally regain your feet and trap the little twerp in his tree house, as you climb up to administer the coups dé grace, just as you grab the top rung, you realize that it's been cut 3/4 of the way thru and you plummet 10 feet back to the earth. That's what kind of day it's been. Lots of little Kevin McAllister events that add up to one gigantic Leroy of a day.
Picture this:
There is a large man with a beer gut, a total of three teeth and 11 toes. He stands about 6'6" and weighs a meager 375lbs and his name is Leroy. Leroy has been in prison for the past 10 years and he's startin' to get REEEEEAAAAAL lonely and he thinks you've got a purdy mouth.
Actually, let me take that back. That analogy would imply that I had one big problem, which is patently untrue. Today was more along the lines of this:
You're Joe Pesci trying to break into the McAllister's house while they are on Christmas vacation, but this little twerp has been plunking away at you with his BB gun all evening, and you'd wring the little bastard's neck if you could just get ahold of him, but unfortunately he's turned the entire sidewalk to ice which results in you losing your footing and landing squarely on your ass. Once you finally regain your feet and trap the little twerp in his tree house, as you climb up to administer the coups dé grace, just as you grab the top rung, you realize that it's been cut 3/4 of the way thru and you plummet 10 feet back to the earth. That's what kind of day it's been. Lots of little Kevin McAllister events that add up to one gigantic Leroy of a day.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Birthday
I had a birthday, ymmmmhmmm. There was dinner, a circus, coworkers and friends, and Olivia. It was a pretty good time all in all. However, it's become strange to me; I've had my 26th birthday in Tennessee, 25th in Hawaii, 24th in Florida, 23rd in Pennsylvania, 22nd, 21st, 20th, and 19th in New York, and all the preceding ones in West Virginia. I've become accustomed to moving so frequently that nowhere really feels like "home" any more. I think I've mentioned this to some of you faithful readers before, and it still distresses me. I've lived in Tennessee for nearly a year (Dec. 8th it will be) and I'm still not convinced it's home. There's a line in Garden State:
"It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. Maybe it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't ever have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I don't know, but I miss the idea of it, you know."
I'm not sure if that's exactly how I feel, but it's pretty close. I'm proud to say that I have friends all over the country, friends that I could count on, but where do I get to stop and have a home again?
"It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. Maybe it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't ever have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I don't know, but I miss the idea of it, you know."
I'm not sure if that's exactly how I feel, but it's pretty close. I'm proud to say that I have friends all over the country, friends that I could count on, but where do I get to stop and have a home again?
Sunday, November 8, 2009
More of the same
Pictures of what I've been doing, and nonsense like that.
This Friday we had an aquarist bonfire at our house. Kevin tried to light a giant pile of freshly-cut grass from the yard in order to start said fire, but only ended up generating a lot of smoke and an unpleasant odor. After the addition of nearly half a gallon of lighter fluid, the grass was reluctantly forced to a sullen smolder, but the wood caught fire. Chili was eaten, hot cider and cold beer were drank, and a commotion was raised. Just a small commotion, probably not much more than a toddler, but raised nonetheless.
The next day Olivia and I went to Cade's Cove so that she could get pictures with a gigantic "view camera" that Olde Timey contraption you see in so many Back to the Future scenes. It was rather chilly early in the morning, with frost and all that nonsense, but by late afternoon I was able to fall asleep in a field in shorts and a tshirt while she lugged around that giant contraption on a tripod.
I had a fried apple pie, some jalepeño and peppermint flavored fudge (actually really good), and a pretty good time.
This was just a picture I took while we were out that I liked.
This Friday we had an aquarist bonfire at our house. Kevin tried to light a giant pile of freshly-cut grass from the yard in order to start said fire, but only ended up generating a lot of smoke and an unpleasant odor. After the addition of nearly half a gallon of lighter fluid, the grass was reluctantly forced to a sullen smolder, but the wood caught fire. Chili was eaten, hot cider and cold beer were drank, and a commotion was raised. Just a small commotion, probably not much more than a toddler, but raised nonetheless.
The next day Olivia and I went to Cade's Cove so that she could get pictures with a gigantic "view camera" that Olde Timey contraption you see in so many Back to the Future scenes. It was rather chilly early in the morning, with frost and all that nonsense, but by late afternoon I was able to fall asleep in a field in shorts and a tshirt while she lugged around that giant contraption on a tripod.
I had a fried apple pie, some jalepeño and peppermint flavored fudge (actually really good), and a pretty good time.
This was just a picture I took while we were out that I liked.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
I kicked a puppy
I went running yesterday morning, and on my 3 mile loop, two ladies were walking their dogs. One of these dogs, a small-ish (20-30lb) terrier-looking fellow, decided I was hostile and threatening in my activities, and so proceeded to chase me down the road. He got about 3 feet from me, barking, growling, and generally acting threatening, so I turned around and kicked him in the teeth without stopping. Needless to say, his mistress was less than pleased with me and proceeded to yell such admonishments as "He wann't gonna hurt you none!" and "If I thought he was gon' bite you, I wouldna let him go!"
Regardless of these well researched facts, I felt well justified in defending the integrity of my calf from this excessively aggressive little animal.
Regardless of these well researched facts, I felt well justified in defending the integrity of my calf from this excessively aggressive little animal.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Things of no importance to anyone else.
Today was a good day. I mean, it was on par with saving a bus load of children from careening off a cliff at high speeds using nothing but rocket-propelled roller skates, a pneumatic grappling hook, and sheer manly courage. It was that good. I made pizza. A very thick, double deck pizza. There were too many toppings, and they simply could not be allowed to go to waste, so after assessing the situation, I decided that another layer of peppers, sausage, onion, mushroom, and pineapple could be added. When looking at that, it was determined that they would fall off unless they were held in place by another layer of cheese, so that simply had to be put on as well.
After the pizza there were cookies. So many cookies I cannot express. Chocolate cookies with mint chips and walnuts, and chocolate chip cookies with walnuts, and some with a little bit of both swirled in. I ended up eating so much that I had to be dragged across the floor, out of the kitchen, and then slowly work my way up onto the couch. There may or may not have been a brief food coma.
And I got to do all this with this strange, warped, smart, very cute girl that likes to be around me. She was even the one who dragged my fat ass out of the kitchen to the couch. By the way, if you're curious and I haven't already told you, her name is Olivia.
After the pizza there were cookies. So many cookies I cannot express. Chocolate cookies with mint chips and walnuts, and chocolate chip cookies with walnuts, and some with a little bit of both swirled in. I ended up eating so much that I had to be dragged across the floor, out of the kitchen, and then slowly work my way up onto the couch. There may or may not have been a brief food coma.
And I got to do all this with this strange, warped, smart, very cute girl that likes to be around me. She was even the one who dragged my fat ass out of the kitchen to the couch. By the way, if you're curious and I haven't already told you, her name is Olivia.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
County fair: Lancashire, England 1987
Raucous children ran about underfoot, and the smell of fried foods floated heavily on the air. The jeering taunts of the clown at the dunk tank cut through the noise and the smells like a siren: a wheedling, irritating, obnoxious siren. A sign painted in garish turquoise and magenta hung next to the tank, with the words "Dunk him and WIN!" emblazoned boldly across it in large print.
"Come on up, slugger! Have a go!"
"Hey stretch, if your ears get any bigger, you're going to blow away!"
"Muscleman! Hey, Muscleman! show that pretty lady what you're made of!"
One by one, the marks on the midway stepped up to hurl that tiny white sphere at the even tinier target of red and white in hopes of sending the abrasive fellow into the ice cold water that waited below his precarious perch.
A slender young man with barely a wisp of a beard stepped up to the table and handed the man behind the sign a wrinkled and damp one pound note, and received three small balls in return.
"Ooooh! Look out ladies and gentlemen, we got Goliath in the house this evening!"
Without responding, the young lad rolled the ball back and forth in his hand for a second, and then, without a warning or windup, he whipped it toward the far end of the range, where it rang soundly as it smacked into the minuscule target, snapping it back and sending the clown plunging into the chilled tank.
After the splashing and applause stopped, the clown climbed back out of the tank, reset the mechanism, and climbed back onto his perch.
"Lucky shot! Lucky shot! I hear lightning never strikes twice in the same spot. Let's see what you've got there, Zeus!"
Whiz! Clang! Sploosh!
The clown went swimming a second time as more cheering and laughter erupted from the onlookers.
The mechanism was reset, the ball thrown again, and for a third time, the icy water doused the red wig perched atop that heavily made-up face as the ringing sound of leather on metal echoed across the field.
The man behind the table leaned toward the rack of prizes and began to pull one of the smallest stuffed animals from the bottom shelf, but the boy shook his head, reached into his pocket, and pulled out another badly beaten one pound note and handed it to the sweaty faced vendor. He took the three balls, and one by one, used them to send the now soaked clown plunging into the water again, and again, and again.
Again, he shook his head after being offered his choice of prizes off the middle shelf, handed in another pound, accepted the three balls in return, and thrice more sent them hurtling accurately toward the target eliciting three more angry splashes from the man on the mechanism, who now had thick white make up and bright red lipstick running down his face in rainbow-hued rivulets.
Again the choice of prizes was declined, despite the offer of those elusive treasures housed on the top shelf, seldom liberated by any hand.
Again, the exchange of money for three more white spheres, and again they flashed, straight and true to their target. Silence had fallen over the gathered spectators by this point, the clown had stopped his heckling and was struggling simply to stay afloat and breathe, while the man behind the table watched with a mixture of awe and anger. After the fifth encore performance, the ire of the man behind the counter was clearly roused, and he refused to sell the young man any more missiles. He simply waved his hand toward his wares and mumbled "Whatever you want..."
The slender young man looked for a second, and carefully pointed at the old balding man's beautiful young daughter. "Her." was all anyone heard him say. The old man didn't even lift a hand to stop her as she walked toward her champion, took hold of his hand, walked past her father, past the sodden clown, past the stunned and silend onlookers, and out of the fairgrounds. They were never seen again.
"Come on up, slugger! Have a go!"
"Hey stretch, if your ears get any bigger, you're going to blow away!"
"Muscleman! Hey, Muscleman! show that pretty lady what you're made of!"
One by one, the marks on the midway stepped up to hurl that tiny white sphere at the even tinier target of red and white in hopes of sending the abrasive fellow into the ice cold water that waited below his precarious perch.
A slender young man with barely a wisp of a beard stepped up to the table and handed the man behind the sign a wrinkled and damp one pound note, and received three small balls in return.
"Ooooh! Look out ladies and gentlemen, we got Goliath in the house this evening!"
Without responding, the young lad rolled the ball back and forth in his hand for a second, and then, without a warning or windup, he whipped it toward the far end of the range, where it rang soundly as it smacked into the minuscule target, snapping it back and sending the clown plunging into the chilled tank.
After the splashing and applause stopped, the clown climbed back out of the tank, reset the mechanism, and climbed back onto his perch.
"Lucky shot! Lucky shot! I hear lightning never strikes twice in the same spot. Let's see what you've got there, Zeus!"
Whiz! Clang! Sploosh!
The clown went swimming a second time as more cheering and laughter erupted from the onlookers.
The mechanism was reset, the ball thrown again, and for a third time, the icy water doused the red wig perched atop that heavily made-up face as the ringing sound of leather on metal echoed across the field.
The man behind the table leaned toward the rack of prizes and began to pull one of the smallest stuffed animals from the bottom shelf, but the boy shook his head, reached into his pocket, and pulled out another badly beaten one pound note and handed it to the sweaty faced vendor. He took the three balls, and one by one, used them to send the now soaked clown plunging into the water again, and again, and again.
Again, he shook his head after being offered his choice of prizes off the middle shelf, handed in another pound, accepted the three balls in return, and thrice more sent them hurtling accurately toward the target eliciting three more angry splashes from the man on the mechanism, who now had thick white make up and bright red lipstick running down his face in rainbow-hued rivulets.
Again the choice of prizes was declined, despite the offer of those elusive treasures housed on the top shelf, seldom liberated by any hand.
Again, the exchange of money for three more white spheres, and again they flashed, straight and true to their target. Silence had fallen over the gathered spectators by this point, the clown had stopped his heckling and was struggling simply to stay afloat and breathe, while the man behind the table watched with a mixture of awe and anger. After the fifth encore performance, the ire of the man behind the counter was clearly roused, and he refused to sell the young man any more missiles. He simply waved his hand toward his wares and mumbled "Whatever you want..."
The slender young man looked for a second, and carefully pointed at the old balding man's beautiful young daughter. "Her." was all anyone heard him say. The old man didn't even lift a hand to stop her as she walked toward her champion, took hold of his hand, walked past her father, past the sodden clown, past the stunned and silend onlookers, and out of the fairgrounds. They were never seen again.
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