Call me CB

Obviously the reason I've been so down in the dumps lately is I have given in to my inner Charlie Brown tendencies. I guess I need to spice it up by hanging around a Linus, or maybe a Peppermint Patty.
Anyway, here is the quiz.



You are Charlie Brown!

Which Peanuts Character are You?
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Bring it on

It seems like the holiday funk has settled in and Murphy's law is in full effect.
Since October my life has become more tedious than ever, a living mockery of every dream I held as a child.
I am about to hit 31, and life is nowhere near where I expected it to be. For the sake of argument, here is a breakdown of my woes:
-Had my hours cut to part-time (40 hours/week now down to 20) . In that one move alone I lost my health insurance and vacation pay;
-Blew a head gasket in my Toyota ($1800 later it runs well, but now has a papery-rattling sound that has to be repaired);
-Toilet has become permanently clogged due to a shower curtain ring that is plugging it up. I was replacing the shower curtain when the ring fell straight in like it was on a mission from God;
-Shower is broken. Every night I have two inches of standing water waiting for me after I bathe due what I presume is a broken pipe;
-Almost out of pills for my high-blood pressure (to understand why this is a big deal refer to the first bullet point);
-In addition to the previous problems I have been plagued lately with weird dreams that make me miss home horribly.

Of course my life has not been a torrential shit storm; it just seems bad right now because I'm in the middle of a monsoon. I still have a girlfriend I love and adore and a small group of ever-loyal friends and family. Also it would probably do me good to slow down and enjoy the small moments, like having a beer with friends after work, or a long phone call with my mom. I have never been one to enjoy the moments. I always spent too much time worrying. Car payment is due in two days. Two stories to write tomorrow. Gotta get my oil changed.
In the meantime all the really important stuff slipped away almost unnoticed, like water through cupped hands. And that is the stuff I regret: not making my brother's tee-ball games, not being there for my mother's birthday, not saying things when they should have been said.
Yup, my troubles are totally self-caused. All the forgotten and neglected moments are the epitaph of a selfish life I guess.
All those moments have added up to my current predicament: Moping around the crossroads, waiting for a friend from my childhood to join me on the road to being a man. But all those friends are gone, their faces just a memory and their voices only heard over long-distance lines these days. The only time I get to see them is when I have the occasional dream about my youth. There they are full of the youthful bravado I thought would never leave us, but is only revisited during those magical midnight hours, vanishing at the first sound of the alarm like frightened mice. It is those moments when I think the fun really is behind me.
It might be time to take the tents down and secure the cages. The carnival is shoving off.

What can I say

Well, I started back at the newspaper today after a extended hiatus. (My head gasket blew, leaving me two weeks without a vehicle -- a suprisingly nice vacation that allowed me to be alone for a while -- along with an $1,800 bill -- the not-so-good aspect of it.)
Getting back to REAL work was a good feeling. While my car was at the shop I picked up a lot of shifts at the restaurant, which reminded me of being in college -- and why I wanted so bad to get out of that lifestyle. I started to miss staying up until 2 a.m. drinking and hanging out with buddies, but it is certainly not meant for those that intend to make it through the long-haul. I wouldn't expect to make it past 40 living that way, but some have the guts to build a life around it.
Now, I guess as a result of my regression into the Ramen noodle days of my youth, I have been stricken with the sudden urge to pack money away like a squirrel preparing for the winter. On the flip side though I don't make that much money, so I guess its time to look for another job. I'm sure I won't like it as much as reporting, it most certainly won't be as exciting, but I need cash. Straight up.
So here I go, selling my dreams for the promise of stability -- or the illusion of it. And I'm a little sad about it. Time goes too fast. People flit in and out of you life too quickly. Its like trying to watch a hummingbird -- as soon as you start to absorb the beauty and amazingness of it, it's gone. But there is probably a reason things are the way they are. After all, it is the hope of seeing a hummingbird gives you a reason to get up and watch the feeder.

What next?

As I sit and swill the two shots of Adidas cologne that my intervention group forgot to confiscate, strange vibes are rippling to my corner of the world today.
Things all around seem on the brink, explosions on the ready in the middle of unsuspecting crowds.
News reports out of America lately have had the same Apocalyptic feel to them as the news coming out of Iraq; they both give me a rotten feeling in my gut and leave me a little panicked. Hurricanes, police brutality, senseless violence -- they all have become headline staples.
But as a rational being you have to wonder if the mainstream media is showing us a distorted picture of reality; somewhat like Socrates' 'Parable of the Cave'.
Our media channels have desensitized us to the point where grainy footage of bombings and blood-smeared walls have become the norm. But are the horrible images on the tape a reality vastly different from our day-to-day lives. In my case the answer is "yes."
I deal with dwindling money supplies, decreased job opportunities and a shitty drive to work, but am I in danger of a terrorist strike. Probably. But the question looms: How real a threat is it? Is this just one person's distorted view aimed at tainting our collective "big picture."
Same thing as what happened in New Orleans. What percentage of people made up the vast reports of looting and murder? I would venture to guess that neighbors did some pretty heroic things in those turbid hours as well.
But, when it comes to perspective, you have to be especially worrisome are recent fads in network news, such as the emergence of the star-fucking media currently stuck on the TV screen everyday. Tom Cruise did this. Pitt and Joile are adopting more babies. Fine. Let him fucking jump on a couch, while the happy couple saves a baby from eating paste his whole life. I don't care.
All forms of media seem to have morphed into mere paparazzi, keeping the "working class" at our homes with mouths draped at eyes glued to images fluctuating between craters left by suicide bombers and vigilantes running the streets of the Big Easy.
But the moving pictures are just a distraction. Another curtain draped in front of the action in the back room, where a mass of Hell-fire breathing Frankenstiens are preparing for the End by a steady diet of raw anger and an indifference to human life.
But the catch is that they need us to be afraid for them to be fully empowered. We have to be so terrified of the .10 percent chance that something horrible will happen today that we will give up all our freedom and be content to let them handle every aspect of our existence.
But hopefully that will not be our fate. Maybe there will be one last band of villagers willing to tackle the stinking beasts: a renegade crew of heros who felt uneasy and started rounding up the pitchforks and torches while the rest of us were busy laying down our last shreds of individual freedom.
Then again it might not end up that way. Maybe we will go down the way they planned it: tuned to that damned flickering box, unwilling or unready to take in the reality dancing in their peripheral.