A Window to the Soul

Well, the first part of the holiday season has passed us, and the worst shopping day of the year came and went, and I managed to keep my sanity. All of my friends have, of course, blogged about their Thanksgiving, and I suppose I should, too. But my Thanksgiving was neither especially good, nor especially bad. It had it's moments, both good and bad, but I think it's something best discussed over a glass of wine, and not a broadband connection.

Rather, I want to do a little soul-searching tonight. One of the things that I like about this blogging thing is that it gives me a chance for some real introspection. It's odd, that something that should seem so personal is apparently easier for me when I know that others will read it. Perhaps it's a way to get things out there, without having to look someone in the eye and say it, and yet they get to hear it and comment. Curious...

So, I think I've discovered something about myself. It's not a big thing, or world-shattering, or depressing, just a fact.

I don't work well under pressure.

Nope, I sure don't. Never have and I doubt I ever will. I've come to realize that I'me a slow and methodical person. When it comes to work, I'd prefer to be given a task that I can steadily plunk away on. One that requires me to dig in and really concentrate, but one that doesn't have to be done yesterday. When things come at me too fast, I have a tendency to zone out, to shut down. It makes me want to go hide in a corner and let everything rush past me. Then I can come out and leisurely follow the path of destruction and see what has occurred in my absence.

This has a tendency to cause me problems in life. I'm not a split-second decision maker. I must take my time, weigh options, test the waters, take a random sampling of opinions, and then make a judgement on a sound footing. While this seems rational, it has often meant missing out on opportunities that would have been very enriching and entertaining.

It also means I really suck at sports video games. For instance, I was just attempting to play a football game on my Playstation 2. This requires you to watch 11 players on a field, make quick decisions, and punch lots of buttons really fast. Needless to say, I was slaughtered by the other team.

This seems to be how it goes in life, for me. I want to take things slow. To explore every side trail and avenue, to peek down every alley, look in every window, to smell every rose. I don't want to miss anything in this life, since I only get a chance to go around one time.

Is this a good thing? I don't know. I suppose like everything in life, it has it's good points and it's bad. I definately have regrets for missed opportunities, but on the other hand, my patience and steadfastness have left me with a few memories that I wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

So...what was the point of this blog entry anyway? To tell the truth, I don't know. But perhaps, if you had the patience to read it all, then maybe you will leave knowing a little more about me, as I try and learn a little more about myself.
I know, I know, it's shameless self-indulgence. But then, what else was the internet created for?

Pictures Galore!

Here's a little secret that I'll share with you guys: I can read my wife like a book, and I know her from cover to cover by heart. This drives her crazy, especially when it comes to giving presents. I can surprise her easily, and give her things that she would never have guessed that I was going to come up with. That's because she usually can't read me at all, therefore, she doesn't know what I'm up to. What really bugs her, is that I know exactly what she's up to almost all the time. So I know when she's trying to surprise me, and I almost always know what she's going to surprise me with.

But that's beside the point. The point of explaining this, is to explain how I finally found my digital camera.

You see, I have certain patterns. There are certain places that I put things, even when I'm not thinking about it, and I set something down without realizing it, there's a pattern to it, and I can usually track back my actions and find what I'm looking for. So when my camera went missing, and I couldn't walk through, step-by-step, where I had last had it, I KNEW that Michelle had picked it up and put it somewhere. But I couldn't tell her that, because I know she would deny it and say that I was yelling at her, and our happy home would have strife and discord.

Eventually, though, once I had done an exhaustive search of everywhere I might have accidentally set it down, I had no choice but to start looking where she might have set it down. And sure enough, there it was, stuck in a box in our bedroom closet with a bunch of her stuff that she had picked up and randomly stuck in a place she would never think to look. And, of course, she was appropriately contrite. I didn't even have to say "I told you so." We both knew it.

Ah, it feels so good to be right. This is my one time for this year. I have to savor it, because I won't get another one until next Xmas.

But enough about that, I promised PICTURES!!

First, since you begged for them, I give you [da da da da da da daaaaaa1!!!] the monkey slippers:



Next, just to remind you a little about Halloween, and to show that even the most innocuous characters can sometimes seem demented and evil, here's a little picture of me in makeup. Clown makeup, that is. Now I know why so many people are afraid of clowns. heheh


And finally, just to put you back in a good holiday mood, here's another one of the reasons that I love Fall. after waiting all year, the silver maple in my front yard suddenly turns into living gold. And for a couple days, it brightens up the entire neighborhood, before it dumps every single leaf into my yard and I have to rake the little mothers up. But this year, I captured it for posterity. Enjoy, and have a happy Thanksgiving!!

I gots monkies on my feets

Ah, don't you just love this time of year? The leaves are FINALLY starting to turn. The air is crisp. I lit a fire in the fireplace last night and Michelle and I cuddled and watched SouthPark. Well, okay, I watched it and she fell asleep after we split a bottle of wine and some Chinese food.

There are some things I hate. One, it's friggin' COLD in the morning when I have to get out of my warm bed. Two, my hands totally dry out and crack and are really painful.

But there is one thing I really love. When it gets really cold, I finally pull out my monkey slippers. I love my monkey slippers. They're big and fluffy and they are shaped like big monkey heads. I don't even remember where I got them. I think they were a gag gift that one of my relatives got, and they gave them to me as a joke. And they were a joke, until I put them on. They are the most warm and comfy thing that I own.

Plus, they scare the bejeesus out of the cat. I don't know why, but Cupid hates them. When I walk into a room, he freaks out and runs and hides. He's such a coward.

Well, that's all there is too this post. It's dumb, I know, but there it is.
If I can ever find my camera, I'll give you a pick of the monkey slippers. Until then, you'll just have to imagine their monkey goodness and be jealous.

Stop the covers!!

Okay, I know. First I don't post for weeks, and then I post twice in one night. But I just have to get this off my chest.

I HATE it when recording artists do covers of other songs. I just had to listen to Alanis Morrisette cover Seal's "Crazy." It pissed me off, and I don't even like Seal that much. I mean, what's the point? That song is not even twenty years old. It's not a classic, and it was a song that seemed rather unique to the original singers style. Are L.A. and Nashville so devoid of decent songwriters that they have to fall back on recording multiple versions of the same song before they even get old? I guess I already know the answer to that.

With rare exceptions, covers are a bad idea IMHO. With that in mind, here are a couple of covers I think are exceptions:

Guns N Roses cover of "Live and Let Die"
The Gypsy Kings' cover of "Hotel California"
And even though it's not really a cover, Israel Kamakawiwo'ole's rendition of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." Just for the record, I want that played at my funeral.

Here's a thought. Let's start a discussion on Home Dipu. What are your favorite covers? Somebody prove me wrong on this.

I said P-O-S-S-E

Hello, friends. Let me begin my post by apologizing for not posting sooner. I have been berated and reprimanded by Jesse's Girl, so I return now shame-facedly with a few words. I haven't had alot of inspiration to write lately, but as other bloggers have mentioned, sometimes you just gotta get something down, no matter how inane it may seem.

So let me tell you something about myself.

I am a person truly blessed. I have a lovely home in a nice neighborhood. I have a good job that pays well, and although it is not the most fulfilling thing I've ever done, it has it's moments. I have a beautiful wife that I love more than life itself, I have some great friends, and I live in the best city that the state of Texas has to offer.

But there is something missing. There is a piece missing from the puzzle of my life. It's not a large piece, but it is an important one, one that I do not often realize is missing, but sometimes really bums me out.

I need a posse.

That's right, a posse. Some homies. Dudes. My boys. I need some guy friends. Now, don't get me wrong. I love my female friends. I have a great time with them. I really do enjoy talking about home furnishings, and wine, and relationships. All the things that real guy friends would give me all kinds of crap about liking. And that's why I need some guy friends sometimes.

I do have one or two guy friends, but most often we are surrounded by women when we get together. And not in the way that guys really like to be surrounded by women when guys are just hanging out and being guys. I need guys that will appreciate it when I talk about video games, or cars, or football, or airplanes. Or water-softeners. I need guys that will come and stand next to me as I stare down into the engine compartment of my car and say things like "uhuh" and "Have you checked the manifold?" and then do an impression of Boomhauer from "King of the Hill."

As I think back on it now, it seems odd to me that I have never been able to maintain a close-knit group of guy friends. I have had several groups in the past; my two buddies from college, one of whom now lives in Dallas, and the other who is in a cult in College Station; Ryan Mauldin, who I used to work with at TEL and who had started to help me put together a pretty decent posse until he moved to Las Vegas; another group of guys that I played endless rounds of "Joint Ops" with but that somehow broke down when they switched to "Never Winter Nights."

I long for some buddies who will come over to my house and play video games while we drink beer and make totally non-PC jokes and crack stupid lines like "That's what she said." Like we used to do in college.

Sometimes, that's why I really want to have sons. Boys that I can raise up to be fine young men, but who will also appreciate a good breaking of wind and some nice clean dirt under their fingernails. I even had high hopes when my nephew was born. I envisioned fishing trips and football games with my brother and his boys, cracking jokes over a campfire and acting like dumbasses because we were far away from the womenfolk, back in civilization. That would have been great, and it was so close, so close, until my brother started showing his ass and voting for fundamentalist Christian Republicans. Dammit.

So, perhaps I was just not meant to have a posse. And that's okay. I'll go on with my life, drinking mojitos at ZTejas and chuckling about "um, the lake." And I'll be happy because I truly love my friends, and love being around them as much as I can. But deep down inside, I will always have a small part of me wishing that I could fart, scratch and crack a crude joke about Pamela Anderson without getting dirty looks and disgusted sighs.

Oh, and if you're wondering about the title of this post, it comes from a joke I heard once that I think all guys would find hilarious, but that the gals probably wouldn't really care for. Oh well.