State of the Fly
There are a few things worth noting, so I'm noting them here.
* * *
The Scientologists tried to recruit me yesterday. I'd just gotten my hair cut at the post exchange; as I'd entered, I'd seen a table with a bunch of books by L. Ron Hubbard, which can only mean one thing: Scientology recruiting scheme. As I was walking out, I'd forgotten that they were there, and the attractive young woman at the table flagged me down with one of the few questions I can't resist answering: "What's the last good book you read?"
So, we talked about books; I told her what I was reading, and she told me that she was reading, among other things, Dianetics. I recommended my old standby: How the Irish Saved Civilization by Thomas Cahill. I also identified that she wasn't from the States, based on slight accents on a couple of words and less-than-perfect syntax (still better than most native English-speakers, though); impressed, she informed me that she was French-Italian, and had spent most of her life in Copenhagen.
Well, the program they were plugging was a book sale and writing contest; they had a number of varied titles by Hubbard, and if you bought one at more-than-cover price, you got a compilation of winners from the quarterly L. Ron Hubbard memorial science fiction short story contest. Since it had been one of the more stimulating conversations I've had in recent memory (save for a couple of recent conversations with Chazza), and since she was cute, I broke down and bought a copy of Battlefield Earth (I was the one guy who went to see the movie). I got the second book free, and she threw in a deck of playing cards that doubled as a catalogue of some of Hubbard's pulp fiction stories (contrary to my intuition, the deck didn't turn out to be composed of all Jokers) and some magazine with a previously unpublished short story by Hubbard (apparently he was referred to as the most prolific posthumous author of 1994).
As she was getting my change, she handed me a receipt booklet and told me to write down my name, E-Mail address, and mailing address. Obviously, this was something that I had no intention of making good on; however, she'd been really friendly, and I didn't want to be rude. Solution? You guessed it: fake name, fake E-Mail address. My name? Robert Cleland. The irony, of course, is that at some point I had to flip over my company identification badge, which was hanging right there over my belly. Sometimes I can't believe how smooth I am, and it makes up for all of those other clumsy foul-ups.
* * *
I got a great E-Mail from one of my university professors, Professor Benstein, that I'd like to share; however, given previous incidents in which posting personal correspondence on the blog has come back to bite me, I've decided not to post it. Professor Benstein is not universally known for his charisma, but those who know him well know that on occasion he can exhibit an unmistakable wit.
At any rate, it feels really good to be a year and a half out of college and still remembered by people who I've respected and enjoyed very much. Professor Benstein, despite his limitations as a lecturer, was one of two or three individuals who gave me the skills I needed to become a top notch historian. For that, I'll be forever grateful.
* * *
In October, I went on a one-day shopping spree for clothes that I could wear at work. Recently, over the course of only two days, two pairs of cargo pants were ripped, one of them beyond repair. Yesterday I went back to the store and purchased another couple of pairs of cargo pants for work.
From there, I went to Wal Mart looking for a throw blanket for my Xchair; I did not find a throw blanket, but I did find the bargain DVD bin when I accidentally noticed a copy of Saving Silverman, my favorite Neil Diamond-related comedy film. I went on to find Can't Hardly Wait, SNL Best of Adam Sandler (to join Will Ferrell and Christopher Walken), and The Beverly Hillbillies. Since they were all $5.50 apiece, I got two copies of the first title since I'll likely find someone who I'd like to pass it on to.
That's right: I spent fifteen minutes of my life digging in the bargain DVD bin at Wal Mart, in a po-dunk, white trash town in the middle of the Mojave Desert. My life has reached a new low.
I've also received a couple of bits and pieces from Amazon lately, as previously noted. I mentioned The Life of David Gale; yesterday I received MI-5 Volume 4, which I've been waiting at least a year for, and Touch Down by Stephanie Schneiderman, which I've been waiting for since at least 2002 when I saw her open up for Chris Isaak. Her entire catalogue is available online (there's a link on my sidebar), and this album is pretty strong. I've been watching MI-5, and I'm preparing to watch the third episode (of ten) of that new series; one of the things that strikes me is how much I enjoy characters that I wouldn't expect to like. For example, I didn't really care for the character of Ruth Evershed, played by British actress Nicola Walker. Walker is fairly homely, but between her acting abilities and the writing, I've grown to really enjoy her role in the series, and I'm honestly disappointed that she's left the program. And, not surprisingly, the whole thing is making me miss England; perhaps someday I'll be able to go back and live there for a while.
I'll be calling in my purchase of an Arc'Teryx Echo Pack tomorrow. Hopefully it will come in handy for
* * *
I learned yesterday that my brother, the occasionally aforementioned "Twitley", asked his girlfriend's father for permission to marry her. Given that my brother is a mechanic, this degree of class was somewhat unexpected; the dividend, though, is that my little brother, twenty-one years of age, is getting married. Given that I am not right now in any sort of relationship that resembles a track to marriage, it appears that my little brother will be married before me.
I have to admit, I'm very conflicted about that development. Even though I'm the first-born member of my generation, I won't be the first to become a father (my nineteen year old cousin) nor the first to get married (either my brother or my cousin). My professional ambitions are very clear, after some murky years while I was at university. My personal ambitions are clear as well, but at this point in my life I've chosen to be most ambitious about my career since I appear to have little or no control over my relationships with women. Call me naive, call me a prude, call me a true believer - I've made choices in life that have limited my romantic solubility, and one of the consequences of that decision is that my nascent career track is miles ahead of my seemingly non-existent track to marriage and a family.
In recent months, I've begun (probably prematurely, I'll admit) to consider the possibility that I will reach a point in the next few years at which I will have to make the conscious decision to pursue my career at the cost of my personal life. It disappoints me that I'm beginning to consider that choice to be acceptable. Part of my reasoning follows my interest in Stoic philosophy - my career is something that I have control over, while marriage by its very definition requires one to cede and share control with another person (the least predictable element in existence).
I'm also conflicted about my response. I know that the healthy and responsible reaction, the reaction I should be having, is one of excitement and happiness for my brother and his fiancee. While that feeling is there, it's accompanied by, and perhaps even surpassed by, a jealousy and regret that he's come to a place of financial security and relational happiness before me, and with nowhere near the effort or care that I've put into my life. By all accounts, my five years in college, my careful and (mostly) uncompromising discretion, my fiscal restraint, all of these things were supposed to make me succeed, and yet here I am trailing behind my brother, the drinking, smoking, chewing twenty-one year-old mechanic who barely graduated from high school.
I know I'll get over it, but for the time being it's a precarious place to be.
* * *
I really love YouTube. I've been able to find Comedy Central specials, in their entirety, starring outstanding stand-up comedians like Stephen Lynch and Zach Galifianakis. These are reruns that I miss out on by not having cable.
I'm not really sure what I hope to accomplish by my lifestyle. I have furniture now, but I still live without cable television, a bed, or the use of heating or air conditioning (it's worse in the Summer than it is in the Winter, I guarantee you). I've hoped that it would serve as a sort of spiritual purification through ascetic deprivation, but sometimes I wonder whether that's really being accomplished.
* * *
Having mentioned my career track, it's worth noting that I've given considerable thought to this item lately. When I moved to Zoo Station, I soon recognized that my original plan to stay for three to five years was unreasonable and foolish. At that point, I decided that I would stay no longer than one year. Things have improved somewhat since I came to that conclusion, and I have since decided to stay no less than one year, and no more than two. Various changes and issues at work have led me in recent weeks to consider which side of that margin I want to fall on.
I don't intend to work any less than a year in the Mojave; however, I feel more and more that I've reached the limit of what I can learn and experience in my current job. The conditions here are such that I feel that I have to have some professional justification for staying for an extended period of time: I have to be getting something out of the situation to warrant remaining in the area for more than a minimum amount of time. As my one year mark approaches, I find myself preparing to start actively seeking alternatives; not necessarily to take up, but so that I at least know what my options are. Since my goal is to leave my current position at some point between the one and two year marks, right before the one year mark is the time when I should theoretically start looking toward my next move.
One option is Afghanistan. I know what you're thinking: "Going from the Mojave Desert to Afghanistan? Is this friendly neighborhood Super Fly really serious?" Yes, I am. For a long time, I figured that I would be on the front lines of America's national defense as an ensign in the United States Navy. When that prospect ended, I was left with the knowledge that I wanted to serve my country in the pursuit of national security objectives, but that being on active duty might not be the only way for me to accomplish it. Even so, every day I see the faces of uniformed personnel who have put their lives on the line in the defense of the freedoms that I treasure, and I have a desire to go "down range", as soldiers call it. I'm a young man, and since the dawn of time young men have protected the weak and vulnerable by putting themselves in danger for a greater good.
I've been tempted to join either the Reserve or National Guard elements of the military, but despite my support of the war in Iraq, I have little desire to go there for one simple and selfish reason: it's too hot. Also, having seen how Guard and Reserve elements and the active duty Army work, I feel that my talents would be better employed elsewhere. Until recently, I had said that I'd be more tempted to join the military if I had a guarantee that I'd go to Afghanistan, not Iraq; it's not the danger I'm against, it's the heat. In fact, I had even a few months ago considered the possibility of getting a contractor job in Iraq if that's what it took.
So, what changed the situation? An ex-girlfriend's step-dad (try thinking of that at night when you've had a couple of drinks) works for a security contracting company, and she told me that she could pass on my resume if I so desired. The more I think about it, the more I think that this might be a good opportunity to get experience and credibility as I pursue my career goals. Every security contractor (Blackwater USA, Aegis, et cetera) has its own organic intelligence unit; otherwise I could advertise myself as a security driver, or even a trigger-puller if they were willing to take me as that (though honestly, it probably wouldn't be my first choice).
Still, such a situation requires a lot of consideration, and the prospect isn't anything near a sure-thing. However, it's something I'm considering at the moment.
* * *
Well, I'm glad I got all of that off of my chest. Stay tuned, folks.
The Scientologists tried to recruit me yesterday. I'd just gotten my hair cut at the post exchange; as I'd entered, I'd seen a table with a bunch of books by L. Ron Hubbard, which can only mean one thing: Scientology recruiting scheme. As I was walking out, I'd forgotten that they were there, and the attractive young woman at the table flagged me down with one of the few questions I can't resist answering: "What's the last good book you read?"
So, we talked about books; I told her what I was reading, and she told me that she was reading, among other things, Dianetics. I recommended my old standby: How the Irish Saved Civilization by Thomas Cahill. I also identified that she wasn't from the States, based on slight accents on a couple of words and less-than-perfect syntax (still better than most native English-speakers, though); impressed, she informed me that she was French-Italian, and had spent most of her life in Copenhagen.
Well, the program they were plugging was a book sale and writing contest; they had a number of varied titles by Hubbard, and if you bought one at more-than-cover price, you got a compilation of winners from the quarterly L. Ron Hubbard memorial science fiction short story contest. Since it had been one of the more stimulating conversations I've had in recent memory (save for a couple of recent conversations with Chazza), and since she was cute, I broke down and bought a copy of Battlefield Earth (I was the one guy who went to see the movie). I got the second book free, and she threw in a deck of playing cards that doubled as a catalogue of some of Hubbard's pulp fiction stories (contrary to my intuition, the deck didn't turn out to be composed of all Jokers) and some magazine with a previously unpublished short story by Hubbard (apparently he was referred to as the most prolific posthumous author of 1994).
As she was getting my change, she handed me a receipt booklet and told me to write down my name, E-Mail address, and mailing address. Obviously, this was something that I had no intention of making good on; however, she'd been really friendly, and I didn't want to be rude. Solution? You guessed it: fake name, fake E-Mail address. My name? Robert Cleland. The irony, of course, is that at some point I had to flip over my company identification badge, which was hanging right there over my belly. Sometimes I can't believe how smooth I am, and it makes up for all of those other clumsy foul-ups.
I got a great E-Mail from one of my university professors, Professor Benstein, that I'd like to share; however, given previous incidents in which posting personal correspondence on the blog has come back to bite me, I've decided not to post it. Professor Benstein is not universally known for his charisma, but those who know him well know that on occasion he can exhibit an unmistakable wit.
At any rate, it feels really good to be a year and a half out of college and still remembered by people who I've respected and enjoyed very much. Professor Benstein, despite his limitations as a lecturer, was one of two or three individuals who gave me the skills I needed to become a top notch historian. For that, I'll be forever grateful.
In October, I went on a one-day shopping spree for clothes that I could wear at work. Recently, over the course of only two days, two pairs of cargo pants were ripped, one of them beyond repair. Yesterday I went back to the store and purchased another couple of pairs of cargo pants for work.
From there, I went to Wal Mart looking for a throw blanket for my Xchair; I did not find a throw blanket, but I did find the bargain DVD bin when I accidentally noticed a copy of Saving Silverman, my favorite Neil Diamond-related comedy film. I went on to find Can't Hardly Wait, SNL Best of Adam Sandler (to join Will Ferrell and Christopher Walken), and The Beverly Hillbillies. Since they were all $5.50 apiece, I got two copies of the first title since I'll likely find someone who I'd like to pass it on to.
That's right: I spent fifteen minutes of my life digging in the bargain DVD bin at Wal Mart, in a po-dunk, white trash town in the middle of the Mojave Desert. My life has reached a new low.
I've also received a couple of bits and pieces from Amazon lately, as previously noted. I mentioned The Life of David Gale; yesterday I received MI-5 Volume 4, which I've been waiting at least a year for, and Touch Down by Stephanie Schneiderman, which I've been waiting for since at least 2002 when I saw her open up for Chris Isaak. Her entire catalogue is available online (there's a link on my sidebar), and this album is pretty strong. I've been watching MI-5, and I'm preparing to watch the third episode (of ten) of that new series; one of the things that strikes me is how much I enjoy characters that I wouldn't expect to like. For example, I didn't really care for the character of Ruth Evershed, played by British actress Nicola Walker. Walker is fairly homely, but between her acting abilities and the writing, I've grown to really enjoy her role in the series, and I'm honestly disappointed that she's left the program. And, not surprisingly, the whole thing is making me miss England; perhaps someday I'll be able to go back and live there for a while.
I'll be calling in my purchase of an Arc'Teryx Echo Pack tomorrow. Hopefully it will come in handy for
I learned yesterday that my brother, the occasionally aforementioned "Twitley", asked his girlfriend's father for permission to marry her. Given that my brother is a mechanic, this degree of class was somewhat unexpected; the dividend, though, is that my little brother, twenty-one years of age, is getting married. Given that I am not right now in any sort of relationship that resembles a track to marriage, it appears that my little brother will be married before me.
I have to admit, I'm very conflicted about that development. Even though I'm the first-born member of my generation, I won't be the first to become a father (my nineteen year old cousin) nor the first to get married (either my brother or my cousin). My professional ambitions are very clear, after some murky years while I was at university. My personal ambitions are clear as well, but at this point in my life I've chosen to be most ambitious about my career since I appear to have little or no control over my relationships with women. Call me naive, call me a prude, call me a true believer - I've made choices in life that have limited my romantic solubility, and one of the consequences of that decision is that my nascent career track is miles ahead of my seemingly non-existent track to marriage and a family.
In recent months, I've begun (probably prematurely, I'll admit) to consider the possibility that I will reach a point in the next few years at which I will have to make the conscious decision to pursue my career at the cost of my personal life. It disappoints me that I'm beginning to consider that choice to be acceptable. Part of my reasoning follows my interest in Stoic philosophy - my career is something that I have control over, while marriage by its very definition requires one to cede and share control with another person (the least predictable element in existence).
I'm also conflicted about my response. I know that the healthy and responsible reaction, the reaction I should be having, is one of excitement and happiness for my brother and his fiancee. While that feeling is there, it's accompanied by, and perhaps even surpassed by, a jealousy and regret that he's come to a place of financial security and relational happiness before me, and with nowhere near the effort or care that I've put into my life. By all accounts, my five years in college, my careful and (mostly) uncompromising discretion, my fiscal restraint, all of these things were supposed to make me succeed, and yet here I am trailing behind my brother, the drinking, smoking, chewing twenty-one year-old mechanic who barely graduated from high school.
I know I'll get over it, but for the time being it's a precarious place to be.
I really love YouTube. I've been able to find Comedy Central specials, in their entirety, starring outstanding stand-up comedians like Stephen Lynch and Zach Galifianakis. These are reruns that I miss out on by not having cable.
I'm not really sure what I hope to accomplish by my lifestyle. I have furniture now, but I still live without cable television, a bed, or the use of heating or air conditioning (it's worse in the Summer than it is in the Winter, I guarantee you). I've hoped that it would serve as a sort of spiritual purification through ascetic deprivation, but sometimes I wonder whether that's really being accomplished.
Having mentioned my career track, it's worth noting that I've given considerable thought to this item lately. When I moved to Zoo Station, I soon recognized that my original plan to stay for three to five years was unreasonable and foolish. At that point, I decided that I would stay no longer than one year. Things have improved somewhat since I came to that conclusion, and I have since decided to stay no less than one year, and no more than two. Various changes and issues at work have led me in recent weeks to consider which side of that margin I want to fall on.
I don't intend to work any less than a year in the Mojave; however, I feel more and more that I've reached the limit of what I can learn and experience in my current job. The conditions here are such that I feel that I have to have some professional justification for staying for an extended period of time: I have to be getting something out of the situation to warrant remaining in the area for more than a minimum amount of time. As my one year mark approaches, I find myself preparing to start actively seeking alternatives; not necessarily to take up, but so that I at least know what my options are. Since my goal is to leave my current position at some point between the one and two year marks, right before the one year mark is the time when I should theoretically start looking toward my next move.
One option is Afghanistan. I know what you're thinking: "Going from the Mojave Desert to Afghanistan? Is this friendly neighborhood Super Fly really serious?" Yes, I am. For a long time, I figured that I would be on the front lines of America's national defense as an ensign in the United States Navy. When that prospect ended, I was left with the knowledge that I wanted to serve my country in the pursuit of national security objectives, but that being on active duty might not be the only way for me to accomplish it. Even so, every day I see the faces of uniformed personnel who have put their lives on the line in the defense of the freedoms that I treasure, and I have a desire to go "down range", as soldiers call it. I'm a young man, and since the dawn of time young men have protected the weak and vulnerable by putting themselves in danger for a greater good.
I've been tempted to join either the Reserve or National Guard elements of the military, but despite my support of the war in Iraq, I have little desire to go there for one simple and selfish reason: it's too hot. Also, having seen how Guard and Reserve elements and the active duty Army work, I feel that my talents would be better employed elsewhere. Until recently, I had said that I'd be more tempted to join the military if I had a guarantee that I'd go to Afghanistan, not Iraq; it's not the danger I'm against, it's the heat. In fact, I had even a few months ago considered the possibility of getting a contractor job in Iraq if that's what it took.
So, what changed the situation? An ex-girlfriend's step-dad (try thinking of that at night when you've had a couple of drinks) works for a security contracting company, and she told me that she could pass on my resume if I so desired. The more I think about it, the more I think that this might be a good opportunity to get experience and credibility as I pursue my career goals. Every security contractor (Blackwater USA, Aegis, et cetera) has its own organic intelligence unit; otherwise I could advertise myself as a security driver, or even a trigger-puller if they were willing to take me as that (though honestly, it probably wouldn't be my first choice).
Still, such a situation requires a lot of consideration, and the prospect isn't anything near a sure-thing. However, it's something I'm considering at the moment.
Well, I'm glad I got all of that off of my chest. Stay tuned, folks.
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