From a New York Times article on it now being legal in Colorado to catch rain:
Who owns the sky, anyway? In most of the country, that is a question for philosophy class or bad poetry. In the West, lawyers parse it with straight faces and serious intent. The result, especially stark here in the Four Corners area of Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico and Utah, is a crazy quilt of rules and regulations — and an entire subculture of people like Mr. Bartels who have been using the rain nature provided but laws forbade.
In an ideal world, I would sound mature and possibly even educated in my response to this. But the world is far from ideal, isn’t it?
Who owns the sky? Try God, you knuckleheads. Don’t want to talk about there being a God? Fine. Anyone except us owns the sky.
The very thought any one person or entity - or a collection of either, for that matter - owning the fucking sky is quite possibly as unsettling as the unfortunate reality that people own land. Or water, such as the case is in numerous developing nations where commercialized shitholes like Great Britain and the U.S. have “privatized” much of their natural H20 supply.
What the fuck do we want the sky for, anyway? It can’t be used for building housing complexes, can it? Do people directly profit - even dominate - the sky?
The sky’s the limit. Childhood saying that’s supposed to conjure ambition.
Now it seems that saying’s on the way out, since apparently the sky’s becoming more of a nifty item on the government’s portfolio.
That certainly limits things.
God damn government.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
Billy Jean is not my lover
It is not our job to determine whether someone did or did not do something wrong. It’s not even our job to know what is wrong, let alone judge people on it.
Without much question, the American legal system is far from the truth - but it is the closest thing we’ve got to it.
Here on Earth, we make our laws and write them down for all to see. Most countries afford a trial when it’s believed a person broke these laws. For some violators, the penalty is death.
But an even worse fate exists for those who are widely believed to have broken these laws: public opinion. Arrestees may not get jail time, but their life is in ruin if the public overrides the court and makes up its own mind.
Case in point: Michael Jackson - American icon, the King of Pop, arguably the greatest entertainer of all time. Some make jokes about his death because they believe he molested children and paid his way out of jail time.
His death, some seem to imply, is a blessing.
Michael Jackson has never been convicted of sexual offense - especially not a sex crime involving a child. Settlement? No shit he paid a settlement the first time he was accused. But settlements only affect the sentence - if the state felt it had a criminal case, guess what … it’s not moved by a settlement to the family.
For a prime example of this, Google “Donte Stallworth,” who was recently convicted of manslaughter despite settling with the family of the man he ran over when he was driving drunken.
If there had been overwhelming evidence Michael Jackson had molested children, he’d have been convicted of it, but sentenced lightly because of his settlement. Families don’t press charges - states do.
As I originally said, the court system is the closest thing we’ve got to perpetuating justice. Only God knows what happens all the time and in all cases, and it’s his job alone to judge people on this.
If we convict people despite decisions of the American court system, we are disrespecting one of the most basic Amendments of the U.S. Constitution, and are therefore shitting on America.
I urge none of us to do this.
Without much question, the American legal system is far from the truth - but it is the closest thing we’ve got to it.
Here on Earth, we make our laws and write them down for all to see. Most countries afford a trial when it’s believed a person broke these laws. For some violators, the penalty is death.
But an even worse fate exists for those who are widely believed to have broken these laws: public opinion. Arrestees may not get jail time, but their life is in ruin if the public overrides the court and makes up its own mind.
Case in point: Michael Jackson - American icon, the King of Pop, arguably the greatest entertainer of all time. Some make jokes about his death because they believe he molested children and paid his way out of jail time.
His death, some seem to imply, is a blessing.
Michael Jackson has never been convicted of sexual offense - especially not a sex crime involving a child. Settlement? No shit he paid a settlement the first time he was accused. But settlements only affect the sentence - if the state felt it had a criminal case, guess what … it’s not moved by a settlement to the family.
For a prime example of this, Google “Donte Stallworth,” who was recently convicted of manslaughter despite settling with the family of the man he ran over when he was driving drunken.
If there had been overwhelming evidence Michael Jackson had molested children, he’d have been convicted of it, but sentenced lightly because of his settlement. Families don’t press charges - states do.
As I originally said, the court system is the closest thing we’ve got to perpetuating justice. Only God knows what happens all the time and in all cases, and it’s his job alone to judge people on this.
If we convict people despite decisions of the American court system, we are disrespecting one of the most basic Amendments of the U.S. Constitution, and are therefore shitting on America.
I urge none of us to do this.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
So much for money
Economy has delayed impact on county budgets
Despite news of the economy beginning to recover (at least showing signs of recovery), residents of one rural North Carolina are going to see a tough fiscal year.
The same pretty much holds true for other counties of its size in N.C., although I’m far too lazy to provide any facts on this. Just trust me.
But what I can tell you is basically the economic collapse of the U.S. brought on during the Bush administration’s reign trickled down to N.C., and then to Jones County. Officials in this agriculture-based county saw less money from the state and were pretty much hogtied by Raleigh’s decision to pass Medicaid costs onto the county.
All the while, the unemployment rate hung out in the 9 to 11 percent range.
So, when making this budget, it’s kind of easy to see why county commissioners called this one of the toughest to balance - it needed more money than usual, but got less than usual from the tax payers.
Hence, the 2009-2010 Jones County budget, which features cuts of about 8 percent across the board.
This is going to be a true character test on department heads, who need to really hold it together from July 1 to June 30, 2010. If the schools, sheriff’s office, etc., etc. can make do with what they’ve got for one year, maybe next year - assuming the state can get its financial act together - things will be better.
What we’re going to see is signs the economy’s recovering in the news, but so such evidence in real life until next fiscal year.
I do hope department heads look for federal funding since they can’t get much from the county or state. You know that economic stimulus? It’s been passed and we citizens are going to have to pay it back (or our children will) someday. They might as well put it to use.
Because it’d be a misleading shame if they didn’t. Sheriff’s office needs more help but the county won’t give it to him? There’s a federal grant for that. Schools need a new roof on their gym? With the right finagling, there’s a way to get funding from Washington.
But if they do nothing, guess who’s going to get blamed … the county government.
And that’s just not correct.
The government’s a big pain in the ass and if John Wayne ran the world, it wouldn’t be there. But he’s dead and the government’s not … so we may as well take whatever it gives us.
Despite news of the economy beginning to recover (at least showing signs of recovery), residents of one rural North Carolina are going to see a tough fiscal year.
The same pretty much holds true for other counties of its size in N.C., although I’m far too lazy to provide any facts on this. Just trust me.
But what I can tell you is basically the economic collapse of the U.S. brought on during the Bush administration’s reign trickled down to N.C., and then to Jones County. Officials in this agriculture-based county saw less money from the state and were pretty much hogtied by Raleigh’s decision to pass Medicaid costs onto the county.
All the while, the unemployment rate hung out in the 9 to 11 percent range.
So, when making this budget, it’s kind of easy to see why county commissioners called this one of the toughest to balance - it needed more money than usual, but got less than usual from the tax payers.
Hence, the 2009-2010 Jones County budget, which features cuts of about 8 percent across the board.
This is going to be a true character test on department heads, who need to really hold it together from July 1 to June 30, 2010. If the schools, sheriff’s office, etc., etc. can make do with what they’ve got for one year, maybe next year - assuming the state can get its financial act together - things will be better.
What we’re going to see is signs the economy’s recovering in the news, but so such evidence in real life until next fiscal year.
I do hope department heads look for federal funding since they can’t get much from the county or state. You know that economic stimulus? It’s been passed and we citizens are going to have to pay it back (or our children will) someday. They might as well put it to use.
Because it’d be a misleading shame if they didn’t. Sheriff’s office needs more help but the county won’t give it to him? There’s a federal grant for that. Schools need a new roof on their gym? With the right finagling, there’s a way to get funding from Washington.
But if they do nothing, guess who’s going to get blamed … the county government.
And that’s just not correct.
The government’s a big pain in the ass and if John Wayne ran the world, it wouldn’t be there. But he’s dead and the government’s not … so we may as well take whatever it gives us.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Father's Day

Today is my third father’s day as a father and my second as one who’s raising a child alone. My daughter, Kalista, will turn 4 on July 28.
They wanted me to write this to share a glimpse into the life of a single dad. We’re on the rise but still a small lot - up to 2.2 million compared to 616,000 in 1980, according to census reports.
It does seem to be an intriguing topic to the people I meet.
You’ve got the balance of work and parenting by yourself, for starters. Then there are questions about being a motherly father, such as how I do at picking out clothes for a little girl, styling her hair and cooking. Others, especially males without children who are my age (26), just want to know if it’s as much to handle as it appears.
But the basis of the responses to all of these is common ground among all parents, both single and married: as long as your child comes first, the rest will fall into place.
Working a full-time job that can have funny hours and being a single father isn’t as tough as it may seem. The bottom line is, Kalista comes first (sorry, boss), and there are no exceptions.
My regular sources, in turn, have come to know that if something’s happening past 6 p.m., there’s a good chance I’m not going to be there for it.
It’s more important that I pick Kalista up from daycare by 6 p.m. and spend the evening with her than cover an event, no matter its magnitude.
I am not ashamed to admit that I have grown fond of shopping for girls’ clothing. My mother triggered this when she taught me how to be “both” parents, a tutorial I am forever thankful for. I’ve also learned how to apply nail polish and install pony tails, as well as a variety of other hair accessories. This is a work in progress and I hope to someday learn to braid.
I hope to teach my daughter as much as she has taught me, and I also flavor her life as much as she’s changed the taste of mine.
She’s turned everyday tasks into adventures for me. No longer do I go into the grocery store, get what I need and get out. These days there’s more to it, including explanations of all the produce she doesn’t recognize, stops to visit with other patrons whom Kalista’s said hello to as we pass by and “turn-arounds” to pay for whatever merchandise she pocketed inside the store when I wasn’t looking.
Bathroom stops have also changed. I’ve never spent as much time cleaning off toilet seats in a public men’s room as I do now. In that same vein, I don’t remember ever speaking in a men’s room before I began taking a chattering toddler in with me.
Father’s Day has become a day I look forward to. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my parents, who live in South Carolina but have always been close, co-workers and the many people I’ve met during my time in Lenoir and Jones Counties who have lent a helping hand.
But the person most responsible for making Father’s Day special is my daughter beautiful Kalista, who will always be 2 to me.
Justin Schoenberger can be reached at (252) 559-1075 or jschoenberger@freedomenc.com.
Today is my third father’s day as a father and my second as one who’s raising a child alone. My daughter, Kalista, will turn 4 on July 28.
They wanted me to write this to share a glimpse into the life of a single dad. We’re on the rise but still a small lot - up to 2.2 million compared to 616,000 in 1980, according to census reports.
It does seem to be an intriguing topic to the people I meet.
You’ve got the balance of work and parenting by yourself, for starters. Then there are questions about being a motherly father, such as how I do at picking out clothes for a little girl, styling her hair and cooking. Others, especially males without children who are my age (26), just want to know if it’s as much to handle as it appears.
But the basis of the responses to all of these is common ground among all parents, both single and married: as long as your child comes first, the rest will fall into place.
Working a full-time job that can have funny hours and being a single father isn’t as tough as it may seem. The bottom line is, Kalista comes first (sorry, boss), and there are no exceptions.
My regular sources, in turn, have come to know that if something’s happening past 6 p.m., there’s a good chance I’m not going to be there for it.
It’s more important that I pick Kalista up from daycare by 6 p.m. and spend the evening with her than cover an event, no matter its magnitude.
I am not ashamed to admit that I have grown fond of shopping for girls’ clothing. My mother triggered this when she taught me how to be “both” parents, a tutorial I am forever thankful for. I’ve also learned how to apply nail polish and install pony tails, as well as a variety of other hair accessories. This is a work in progress and I hope to someday learn to braid.
I hope to teach my daughter as much as she has taught me, and I also flavor her life as much as she’s changed the taste of mine.
She’s turned everyday tasks into adventures for me. No longer do I go into the grocery store, get what I need and get out. These days there’s more to it, including explanations of all the produce she doesn’t recognize, stops to visit with other patrons whom Kalista’s said hello to as we pass by and “turn-arounds” to pay for whatever merchandise she pocketed inside the store when I wasn’t looking.
Bathroom stops have also changed. I’ve never spent as much time cleaning off toilet seats in a public men’s room as I do now. In that same vein, I don’t remember ever speaking in a men’s room before I began taking a chattering toddler in with me.
Father’s Day has become a day I look forward to. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my parents, who live in South Carolina but have always been close, co-workers and the many people I’ve met during my time in Lenoir and Jones Counties who have lent a helping hand.
But the person most responsible for making Father’s Day special is my daughter beautiful Kalista, who will always be 2 to me.
Justin Schoenberger can be reached at (252) 559-1075 or jschoenberger@freedomenc.com.
Friday, June 19, 2009
"He pulled a cigar from his mouth, said 'I smell lawyers here ... ' "
Too long since I’ve known anything. The older I get, the less I seem to know.
I do know that Kalista loves me. I’m beginning to think my mother loves me less the more I hurt her. Can’t seem to find a balance to keep her happy. But Kalista loves me, and I hope the two will have a healthy relationship.
That will make them both happy, I implore.
But there’s always more - and this is a feeling I have in more cases than this - that can be done … always another level, a new pedestal to reach. This sours what’s actually been accomplished.
There’s no professor who’s grading this paper. No way to tell if what I’m doing is right. Maybe it’s all that’s left. I yearn for a gauge of some kind.
This is why people retreat to the mountains and the Everglades and the bayou and lands of ice. We want to know if we’re doing well - if society, of all kinds, approves - and not finding it or estranging ourselves from it altogether can be frustrating. If only I had the faith to measure the happiness expressed in Kalista’s eyes with my heart.
I do not look to avoid sadness. I look to make sure my daughter is as happy as she possibly can be.
And that is how I fail, in my own eyes.
I do know that Kalista loves me. I’m beginning to think my mother loves me less the more I hurt her. Can’t seem to find a balance to keep her happy. But Kalista loves me, and I hope the two will have a healthy relationship.
That will make them both happy, I implore.
But there’s always more - and this is a feeling I have in more cases than this - that can be done … always another level, a new pedestal to reach. This sours what’s actually been accomplished.
There’s no professor who’s grading this paper. No way to tell if what I’m doing is right. Maybe it’s all that’s left. I yearn for a gauge of some kind.
This is why people retreat to the mountains and the Everglades and the bayou and lands of ice. We want to know if we’re doing well - if society, of all kinds, approves - and not finding it or estranging ourselves from it altogether can be frustrating. If only I had the faith to measure the happiness expressed in Kalista’s eyes with my heart.
I do not look to avoid sadness. I look to make sure my daughter is as happy as she possibly can be.
And that is how I fail, in my own eyes.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Socializing medicine - why it sucks
Check this:
http://economix.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/05/08/what-is-socialized-medicine-a-taxonomy-of-health-care-systems/
I’m a little more than slightly concerned about what our President wants to do. Basically, all fancy terminology aside, he wants everyone to have health coverage.
It can’t possibly be a bad thing, right?
Wrong. If there were no flaws in the ideology whatsoever, it would have happened long ago. But there obviously are flaws and I’d be beating an all-too familiar drum if I stated it’s not fair to those who pay for their own health insurance.
We have Medicaid. It works fine. It works better than Blue Cross Blue Shield, which is what I have, because, well, it makes the people using it get health care at a reduced cost (or no cost at all) for just filling out some documents.
Do I bitch about fronting their bill? Nope. It’s the least I can do. People don’t deserve to die because they’re poor.
However, I would bitch if I had to pay even more to front their bills - and that’s what President Barack Obama is using as his selling point in all this.
According to him, Americans who have health insurance pay more money than they should because people without any insurance get treatment and don’t pay their bills. This in turn raises premiums, also according to him.
I say “according to him” twice intentionally, but he’s probably right. But what he’s not addressing at all - which I’d very much like to hear him address - is the probability of premiums going down if his health care plan goes into effect.
He’s probably never going to do that - and here’s why: I am 99.666... percent certain it’s not going to happen. The insurance companies - like all companies, it seems - aren’t about to lower their prices BECAUSE (and you’ve got to love this) they are part of corporate America.
No, on second thought, it’s because they’re run by humans and humans, for the most part, are very selfish.
I don’t see an epidemic out there. We’re not a developing nation (formerly known as a “third world country”) yet. Not even close. I bet very few people in this country die when they could have been saved. As I said, Medicaid is working fine.
I’m also a firm believer in survival of the fittest. Do I think people should die if they can’t afford to live? It’s not my first choice, but I believe it’s more important that people live if they’ve never done anything that warrants death.
The cold, hard truth is we’re reaching a point where there are just too many people on this planet. Take the exploitation of beautiful, wide-open states like - gee, I don’t know - North Carolina, for instance. The vast majority of land that’s sacrificed because someone has lived longer than they should - longer than God probably wants - is increasing.
It’s almost as if people are afraid to die, which is foolish because death is as natural of a part of life as anything. Maybe some have lost sight of God and, in turn, become afraid of dying. Who knows.
What I do know, though, is that if you adopt a universal - which is synonymous with “socialized” - healthcare system, you’re going to take away everyone’s incentive to buy their own health insurance. That’s just the way things work here in society.
http://economix.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/05/08/what-is-socialized-medicine-a-taxonomy-of-health-care-systems/
I’m a little more than slightly concerned about what our President wants to do. Basically, all fancy terminology aside, he wants everyone to have health coverage.
It can’t possibly be a bad thing, right?
Wrong. If there were no flaws in the ideology whatsoever, it would have happened long ago. But there obviously are flaws and I’d be beating an all-too familiar drum if I stated it’s not fair to those who pay for their own health insurance.
We have Medicaid. It works fine. It works better than Blue Cross Blue Shield, which is what I have, because, well, it makes the people using it get health care at a reduced cost (or no cost at all) for just filling out some documents.
Do I bitch about fronting their bill? Nope. It’s the least I can do. People don’t deserve to die because they’re poor.
However, I would bitch if I had to pay even more to front their bills - and that’s what President Barack Obama is using as his selling point in all this.
According to him, Americans who have health insurance pay more money than they should because people without any insurance get treatment and don’t pay their bills. This in turn raises premiums, also according to him.
I say “according to him” twice intentionally, but he’s probably right. But what he’s not addressing at all - which I’d very much like to hear him address - is the probability of premiums going down if his health care plan goes into effect.
He’s probably never going to do that - and here’s why: I am 99.666... percent certain it’s not going to happen. The insurance companies - like all companies, it seems - aren’t about to lower their prices BECAUSE (and you’ve got to love this) they are part of corporate America.
No, on second thought, it’s because they’re run by humans and humans, for the most part, are very selfish.
I don’t see an epidemic out there. We’re not a developing nation (formerly known as a “third world country”) yet. Not even close. I bet very few people in this country die when they could have been saved. As I said, Medicaid is working fine.
I’m also a firm believer in survival of the fittest. Do I think people should die if they can’t afford to live? It’s not my first choice, but I believe it’s more important that people live if they’ve never done anything that warrants death.
The cold, hard truth is we’re reaching a point where there are just too many people on this planet. Take the exploitation of beautiful, wide-open states like - gee, I don’t know - North Carolina, for instance. The vast majority of land that’s sacrificed because someone has lived longer than they should - longer than God probably wants - is increasing.
It’s almost as if people are afraid to die, which is foolish because death is as natural of a part of life as anything. Maybe some have lost sight of God and, in turn, become afraid of dying. Who knows.
What I do know, though, is that if you adopt a universal - which is synonymous with “socialized” - healthcare system, you’re going to take away everyone’s incentive to buy their own health insurance. That’s just the way things work here in society.
Friday, June 12, 2009
News report
I am on Twitter now and really enjoy it. I signed up to follow several media outlets, which has kept me up to speed with a lot of what’s going on in the world. Here are some of the headlines I found intriguing today:
http://www.wral.com/news/political/story/5336930/
Basically, cigarette makers have to limit the nicotine in their product, stop tricking kids into stating smoking and, in general, stop lying to the public.
Anyone have a problem with this? My core values say this is unconstitutional, but since we’re a society of dumb asses, it’s good the government is thinking us through this. Someone’s got to wipe our ass and parent our children - we sure as Hell aren’t.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/06/12/us/12coldcalls.html?_r=1&src=twt&twt=nytimes
Mormons are being used by an Illinois company to sell its product.
It’s about time we put these creeps to good use. Really. These people have been brainwashed since their childhood to think God’s light will shine favorably upon them for deceiving broken people into joining their church - and have perfected the craft. Why not exploit them in order to make your company more money?
My favorite part: “They’re used to knocking on doors, and they’re used to rejection.”
Ain’t that the truth.
http://travel.nytimes.com/2009/06/12/travel/escapes/12Amer.html?src=twt&twt=nytimes
This is a feature-type piece on the Navajo nation in Arizona. I love it. The kind of journalism I hope to do someday. Hopefully, people read it and think “wow, life really can be simple.” The Navajo tribes seem to have it together in terms of retaining their culture far better than these damn Mohawks, who remind me a lot of the damn Senecas.
http://www.kvue.com/news/local/stories/060909_kvue_austin_cyclist_shot-tg.664ff61c.html?npc
Finally, straight from Lance Armstrong’s feed, there’s a couple of guys in Austin, Texas, who enjoy shooting cyclists with a pellet gun, according to a cyclist who took a hit really close to his spine.
As a cyclist myself, I sympathize. What some non-cyclists’ infatuation with degrading, demoralizing and potentially killing cyclists is will always intrigue me. Of all the inaccurate complexes I think cyclists have, the one that we’re all homeless bums who can’t afford a car seems to be the most popular. I’d like to see stricter enforcement of the laws regarding this situation.
How many cyclists are we going to let die?
http://www.wral.com/news/political/story/5336930/
Basically, cigarette makers have to limit the nicotine in their product, stop tricking kids into stating smoking and, in general, stop lying to the public.
Anyone have a problem with this? My core values say this is unconstitutional, but since we’re a society of dumb asses, it’s good the government is thinking us through this. Someone’s got to wipe our ass and parent our children - we sure as Hell aren’t.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/06/12/us/12coldcalls.html?_r=1&src=twt&twt=nytimes
Mormons are being used by an Illinois company to sell its product.
It’s about time we put these creeps to good use. Really. These people have been brainwashed since their childhood to think God’s light will shine favorably upon them for deceiving broken people into joining their church - and have perfected the craft. Why not exploit them in order to make your company more money?
My favorite part: “They’re used to knocking on doors, and they’re used to rejection.”
Ain’t that the truth.
http://travel.nytimes.com/2009/06/12/travel/escapes/12Amer.html?src=twt&twt=nytimes
This is a feature-type piece on the Navajo nation in Arizona. I love it. The kind of journalism I hope to do someday. Hopefully, people read it and think “wow, life really can be simple.” The Navajo tribes seem to have it together in terms of retaining their culture far better than these damn Mohawks, who remind me a lot of the damn Senecas.
http://www.kvue.com/news/local/stories/060909_kvue_austin_cyclist_shot-tg.664ff61c.html?npc
Finally, straight from Lance Armstrong’s feed, there’s a couple of guys in Austin, Texas, who enjoy shooting cyclists with a pellet gun, according to a cyclist who took a hit really close to his spine.
As a cyclist myself, I sympathize. What some non-cyclists’ infatuation with degrading, demoralizing and potentially killing cyclists is will always intrigue me. Of all the inaccurate complexes I think cyclists have, the one that we’re all homeless bums who can’t afford a car seems to be the most popular. I’d like to see stricter enforcement of the laws regarding this situation.
How many cyclists are we going to let die?
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Damn government
http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2009/06/09/eveningnews/main5075681.shtml?source=RSSattr=HOME_5075681
There are rumors of a federal ban on text messaging while driving. A FEDERAL ban.
Here comes evidence I’ve been living down south for a while: what the Hell god damn right does the federal government have to tell each state’s lawmakers how to do their jobs?
In theory, it’s a little absurd. Driving laws that work in mountainous Colorado aren’t always applicable to places like flat-land Iowa or eastern North Carolina. What should be a law in places where constant attention to the road is mandatory is a little unnecessary - and un-American - in areas where it’s okay to look away from the road for a few minutes.
We should leave a law like a text messaging ban up to the state and let the feds worry about war and taxes. Don’t tell states how to govern themselves, federal government - especially when you can’t run yourself very well.
That’s like treating a common cold with a drug that has a side effect of gonorrhea.
However, take me back five years ago - when I could say the longest I’d been out of New York State was two weeks in sixth grade on a family vacation - and I’m totally onboard with this. I had the idea the federal government was at the top of the hierarchy of legislation and whatever it said went, no questions asked.
These days when I hear rumors of a federal ban on text messaging while driving, words like “unconstitutional” and “Gestapo” come to mind.
There are rumors of a federal ban on text messaging while driving. A FEDERAL ban.
Here comes evidence I’ve been living down south for a while: what the Hell god damn right does the federal government have to tell each state’s lawmakers how to do their jobs?
In theory, it’s a little absurd. Driving laws that work in mountainous Colorado aren’t always applicable to places like flat-land Iowa or eastern North Carolina. What should be a law in places where constant attention to the road is mandatory is a little unnecessary - and un-American - in areas where it’s okay to look away from the road for a few minutes.
We should leave a law like a text messaging ban up to the state and let the feds worry about war and taxes. Don’t tell states how to govern themselves, federal government - especially when you can’t run yourself very well.
That’s like treating a common cold with a drug that has a side effect of gonorrhea.
However, take me back five years ago - when I could say the longest I’d been out of New York State was two weeks in sixth grade on a family vacation - and I’m totally onboard with this. I had the idea the federal government was at the top of the hierarchy of legislation and whatever it said went, no questions asked.
These days when I hear rumors of a federal ban on text messaging while driving, words like “unconstitutional” and “Gestapo” come to mind.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Sick of it already???
Friday I picked my daughter up from daycare at 6 p.m. looking a little different than I usually do.
“Why are you mad, Daddy?” Kalista asked me as soon as she saw me.
A little shocking.
June has brought nothing but stress to me at work ever since “they” decided to make our paper look like the National Enquirer. Everyone at the office is at everyone’s throat. Certain editors don’t know how to be fearless generals and instead act just as flabbergasted and baffled as the reporters, taking their frustration out on anyone and everyone.
I’ve worn a reflection of this stress on my face since June 1.
Why do I let these things get to me, I ask on more days than I ever thought I would when I was in college learning to do what I am doing now. It’s a job. It’s not supposed to take over my life. But it is.
It’s dominating me to work these weird, unpredictable hours. It’s crushing me to turn in stories I know could be better but can’t because a change in the printing schedule has left me short on time. I am often ashamed to have my byline on them; I increasingly hope no one reads them.
For the pay they’re giving me, why am I in this line of work? I’m never going to change the world under these circumstances. There goes that smile this job used to bring to my face.
Tonight as I dried my little girl’s hair after her bath, she looked at me and said, “When I get big, I want to be a daddy like you are.”
Touching, to say the least.
I realized that deep down, I must be an all right guy - there must be good in me somewhere. Kids are generally good at seeing the good, and Kalista seems to see it in me.
Maybe I can find a calling in life that puts this to use.
I'm cheating my daughter if I don't.
“Why are you mad, Daddy?” Kalista asked me as soon as she saw me.
A little shocking.
June has brought nothing but stress to me at work ever since “they” decided to make our paper look like the National Enquirer. Everyone at the office is at everyone’s throat. Certain editors don’t know how to be fearless generals and instead act just as flabbergasted and baffled as the reporters, taking their frustration out on anyone and everyone.
I’ve worn a reflection of this stress on my face since June 1.
Why do I let these things get to me, I ask on more days than I ever thought I would when I was in college learning to do what I am doing now. It’s a job. It’s not supposed to take over my life. But it is.
It’s dominating me to work these weird, unpredictable hours. It’s crushing me to turn in stories I know could be better but can’t because a change in the printing schedule has left me short on time. I am often ashamed to have my byline on them; I increasingly hope no one reads them.
For the pay they’re giving me, why am I in this line of work? I’m never going to change the world under these circumstances. There goes that smile this job used to bring to my face.
Tonight as I dried my little girl’s hair after her bath, she looked at me and said, “When I get big, I want to be a daddy like you are.”
Touching, to say the least.
I realized that deep down, I must be an all right guy - there must be good in me somewhere. Kids are generally good at seeing the good, and Kalista seems to see it in me.
Maybe I can find a calling in life that puts this to use.
I'm cheating my daughter if I don't.
Friday, May 29, 2009
You can appreciate places and life in general without anyone being around. You can even be satisfied by them.
But happiness is something you have to share in order to experience it.
I used to go to state parks in N.C. when I was in college. Even abstract places off the beaten path. They were places similar to those I remembered from childhood, when there would always be others around to see them with me.
Seeing them alone gave me satisfaction. Seeing them with my family brought happiness.
And to think I never realized this until I had Kalista.
Went to a state park today in Wayne County. Nothing spectacular - the usual state park with a couple walking trails through the woods and a few spots to take photos along the way. Just like many other parks I’ve seen in N.C.
It felt, though, wonderful to experience it with another. Someone important to me who seemed glad to be there. This made me happy, which is not anything I recall from past trips to state parks.
Now I yearn to see even more sights with my eyes open.
There’s beauty in everything God has made, which is everything compared to the beauty in the things man has built. Even the rocks went through an intricate, time-consuming process of being created we only claim to be familiar with. The same goes for trees, rivers and cliffs. They’re all beautiful.
This can only go so far when you find yourself the only one looking at it, though. Watching the people you love experience them alongside of you brings more than the raw satisfaction of you looking at them alone - seeing it together brings happiness, which feeds the desire to see even more. Just knowing they, too, are satisfied with the experience fosters the love you share.
At least for me, anyway.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Rattlesnake speedway in the Utah desert
Memorial Day is Monday.
Supposed to be May 30, but the profiteers decided there was profit to be made and capitalistic US of A agreed. So here were are. The last Monday of May is Memorial Day.
Tomorrow morning I am meeting with a veteran who will share with me what Memorial Day means to him. A Korean War vet who lost several of his comrades, including two before his eyes, I’m sure the holiday originally intended to recognize the sacrifice of American servicemen who have died in combat means a bit more than it does to the hit dog-toting, let’s-get-drunk-because-I’m-off-Monday people who’ll be out in full force this weekend.
I also wrote a little ditty on holiday travel over the weekend and spoke to a state trooper. You guessed it: the DWIs are up over Memorial Day.
Could it have something to do with the fact we intentionally designated this holiday to a spot on the calendar that would give everyone a three-day weekend?
Shame. Just shameful, if you ask me. You want to disrespect a holiday? Pick one of the Hallmark ones such as Valentine’s, Mother’s or Father’s day. Why do we choose to disrupt a tradition that started just after the Civil War?
That’s just me, though. To each his own. Somewhere in the BibleÓ it says “go forth and prosper,” so we need to make as much money as we can no matter what … because God said so, we say.
In more important news today, I took Kalista to a Kinston Indians game. She loved it. Always has. I enjoy these functions (we’ve gone to games before) because they fit neatly into my schedule - there are so many things I want to do with her and ideas that’d be great to manifest that never seem to occur. There are weeds in the flower bed. The petunias hanging in baskets on the porch have grown too big and choked themselves - they need replaced with new batches.
I’d love to show her this little creek I found a few miles from our palace while out on my bike one day …
Indians games, though, are perfect. I get the tickets free through work, so it’s not like we have any obligation to stay the whole game. She loves being outside, I love sitting next to her and explaining what’s happening. She’s learning more about baseball every time we go.
Not that I’m motivated much by her learning about baseball.
Supposed to be May 30, but the profiteers decided there was profit to be made and capitalistic US of A agreed. So here were are. The last Monday of May is Memorial Day.
Tomorrow morning I am meeting with a veteran who will share with me what Memorial Day means to him. A Korean War vet who lost several of his comrades, including two before his eyes, I’m sure the holiday originally intended to recognize the sacrifice of American servicemen who have died in combat means a bit more than it does to the hit dog-toting, let’s-get-drunk-because-I’m-off-Monday people who’ll be out in full force this weekend.
I also wrote a little ditty on holiday travel over the weekend and spoke to a state trooper. You guessed it: the DWIs are up over Memorial Day.
Could it have something to do with the fact we intentionally designated this holiday to a spot on the calendar that would give everyone a three-day weekend?
Shame. Just shameful, if you ask me. You want to disrespect a holiday? Pick one of the Hallmark ones such as Valentine’s, Mother’s or Father’s day. Why do we choose to disrupt a tradition that started just after the Civil War?
That’s just me, though. To each his own. Somewhere in the BibleÓ it says “go forth and prosper,” so we need to make as much money as we can no matter what … because God said so, we say.
In more important news today, I took Kalista to a Kinston Indians game. She loved it. Always has. I enjoy these functions (we’ve gone to games before) because they fit neatly into my schedule - there are so many things I want to do with her and ideas that’d be great to manifest that never seem to occur. There are weeds in the flower bed. The petunias hanging in baskets on the porch have grown too big and choked themselves - they need replaced with new batches.
I’d love to show her this little creek I found a few miles from our palace while out on my bike one day …
Indians games, though, are perfect. I get the tickets free through work, so it’s not like we have any obligation to stay the whole game. She loves being outside, I love sitting next to her and explaining what’s happening. She’s learning more about baseball every time we go.
Not that I’m motivated much by her learning about baseball.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
JP Column
Suggested header: Sweet shirt, dude
This past week has been an eventful one for Jones County residents.
First, I’ve received word from folks who would know that Gov. Beverly Purdue was not at Lenoir Community College in Trenton. There were rumors she made it to the county seat on Monday when she was in Kinston, but they were just that: rumors.
Second, take the time to acknowledge this year’s Relay for Life committee in your county. The event brought in about $55,000 for cancer research and support - about 20 percent less than last year, but considering nonprofits around eastern N.C. are seeing dropoffs much greater than that (I think it’s the economy/Tom Brady’s fault), that’s an excellent job.
I was humbled, to say the least, by the amount of effort organizers put into this fundraiser.
Third, the Subway in Maysville is definitely - and I don’t mean this lightly - the best Subway I’ve ever been to. I went there for the first time Monday before the commissioners’ meeting and was blown away by its service, tastiness and overall value.
Granted, the $5 footlong special is a deal that’s pretty uniform for all the franchise - but when the sub you get gets to you quickly and neatly, you’re willing to pay several dollars more, which makes the $5 footlong deal extra special in Maysville.
I also liked the décor at this Subway - the stupid subway map that, for some reason, just has to decorate every Subway restaurant wasn’t as distinct as it is in other places. Instead, there were lots of plants and “artsy” tables composing a very modern-feeling atmosphere.
The cleanliness was outstanding, too - this Subway felt like a hospital that distributed prescriptions for Italian subs.
Finally, it’s Memorial Day weekend. Do something to honor the men and women who have died to preserve the American way, no matter how distorted we survivors have made that in recent years.
But please - PLEASE - don’t wear an American flag t-shirt lightly. Old Navy seems to be the clothing company most notorious for profiting off the most sacred of American icons … stay away from that store, or any other that looks to cash-in on something that was intended to be a lot more solemn when it began (Memorial Day).
Speaking of this, according to the federal government, you’re supposed to dispose of an American flag that isn’t serviceable in a “dignified” way, preferably by burning. The government, though, doesn’t offer a whole lot of insight as to what to do with a flag t-shirt that gets ketchup, mustard and blood (for those of us who like to take holiday weekends a bit far) spilled on it.
Unless you’re a gypsy, you’re not going to be seen out in public wearing this shirt again … should it be burned just as an actual flag should?
Folks, I can’t answer this one, nor can I come across anything online from a reputable source (I mean, the government’s reputable, right?) that can … probably because no one ever envisioned people wearing flags on their shirts as if they were Disney characters or Winnie the Pooh and Tigger.
But if it were me, which it never will be, I would dispose of any t-shirt, patch or skull cap with an American flag on it the same way I would a flag itself: with dignity.
Don’t allow seeing the flag in places it probably doesn’t belong make you forget what it stands for.
This past week has been an eventful one for Jones County residents.
First, I’ve received word from folks who would know that Gov. Beverly Purdue was not at Lenoir Community College in Trenton. There were rumors she made it to the county seat on Monday when she was in Kinston, but they were just that: rumors.
Second, take the time to acknowledge this year’s Relay for Life committee in your county. The event brought in about $55,000 for cancer research and support - about 20 percent less than last year, but considering nonprofits around eastern N.C. are seeing dropoffs much greater than that (I think it’s the economy/Tom Brady’s fault), that’s an excellent job.
I was humbled, to say the least, by the amount of effort organizers put into this fundraiser.
Third, the Subway in Maysville is definitely - and I don’t mean this lightly - the best Subway I’ve ever been to. I went there for the first time Monday before the commissioners’ meeting and was blown away by its service, tastiness and overall value.
Granted, the $5 footlong special is a deal that’s pretty uniform for all the franchise - but when the sub you get gets to you quickly and neatly, you’re willing to pay several dollars more, which makes the $5 footlong deal extra special in Maysville.
I also liked the décor at this Subway - the stupid subway map that, for some reason, just has to decorate every Subway restaurant wasn’t as distinct as it is in other places. Instead, there were lots of plants and “artsy” tables composing a very modern-feeling atmosphere.
The cleanliness was outstanding, too - this Subway felt like a hospital that distributed prescriptions for Italian subs.
Finally, it’s Memorial Day weekend. Do something to honor the men and women who have died to preserve the American way, no matter how distorted we survivors have made that in recent years.
But please - PLEASE - don’t wear an American flag t-shirt lightly. Old Navy seems to be the clothing company most notorious for profiting off the most sacred of American icons … stay away from that store, or any other that looks to cash-in on something that was intended to be a lot more solemn when it began (Memorial Day).
Speaking of this, according to the federal government, you’re supposed to dispose of an American flag that isn’t serviceable in a “dignified” way, preferably by burning. The government, though, doesn’t offer a whole lot of insight as to what to do with a flag t-shirt that gets ketchup, mustard and blood (for those of us who like to take holiday weekends a bit far) spilled on it.
Unless you’re a gypsy, you’re not going to be seen out in public wearing this shirt again … should it be burned just as an actual flag should?
Folks, I can’t answer this one, nor can I come across anything online from a reputable source (I mean, the government’s reputable, right?) that can … probably because no one ever envisioned people wearing flags on their shirts as if they were Disney characters or Winnie the Pooh and Tigger.
But if it were me, which it never will be, I would dispose of any t-shirt, patch or skull cap with an American flag on it the same way I would a flag itself: with dignity.
Don’t allow seeing the flag in places it probably doesn’t belong make you forget what it stands for.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
JP column
(Subject to final edits)
Here’s a compilation of nuggets that have gnawed at me this week in my travels:
The gay marriage debate seems to have taken center stage again.
And I’ve left the auditorium.
It began with the drama surround Miss California’s remarks in the Miss USA contest. Basically, for those who missed it, the woman revealed she did not support gay marriage and it led to a brief - but intense - storm of media coverage.
Then this past weekend in Grifton, there were about 400 people who rallied in support of North Carolina House Bill 361, which seeks to amend the state's constitution to provide that marriage between a man and woman is the only domestic legal union that shall be valid or recognized in the state.
With the California girl, I just kind of wrote it off as the media looking to bring up a tried and true story that’s proven to increase viewership by somewhere in the neighborhood of, say, 400 percent.
But when I heard 400 people showed up to this rally in Grifton to essentially spread the same message, I was a bit moved. Grifton, N.C., has a population of just more than 2,000 people. The fact that its population increased by nearly 20 percent for something like this is a bit unnerving.
Mainly because Grifton - I’ve learned from my experiences there - is a small town with a lot of big-town issues. And this is what the residents come together for?
According to the Internet, the gay population in Grifton is 5. As in, there are five gay people in Grifton. As in, there are five people who would be directly affected by North Carolina House Bill 361 and about 1, 995 people who wouldn’t.
The fact such a large percentage of people are moved to action by this and not more pressing issues speaks to my assessment that society has got it so good that we’re just looking for things to complain about … but we’re looking past the issues that warrant a good complaint. Off the cliff we go …
Flea markets aren’t used properly.
Since moving to this area from Wilmington, I can’t help but notice a good quantity of flea markets, auctions and farmer‘s markets. There’s even a relatively new auction place in Maysville I’ve been hearing a lot of good things about, the farmer’s market in Trenton and New Bern and a rather large flea market along N.C. 11 between Kinston and Greenville.
You know how there are rules that are begging to be broken? Markets like these sometimes afford us with the opportunity to do so without sacrificing a shred of our dignity.
Case in point: I will one day buy a katana blade I saw at the flea market on N.C. 11. Or somewhere else, should I find one.
I am the last person on this Earth who should have a katana blade or a martial arts weapon of any kind. But since I discovered that I can be the proud owner of one for $40, I’ve decided that the next time such an opportunity presents itself, I will not let it slip by.
But I’d never seek out a katana blade online or in a real martial arts store. Buying it from a strange man with a strange dialect, though, makes it seem like the right thing to do.
I can use it to chop up the fresh fruits and vegetables I purchase for real cheap at a farmer’s market.
Here’s a compilation of nuggets that have gnawed at me this week in my travels:
The gay marriage debate seems to have taken center stage again.
And I’ve left the auditorium.
It began with the drama surround Miss California’s remarks in the Miss USA contest. Basically, for those who missed it, the woman revealed she did not support gay marriage and it led to a brief - but intense - storm of media coverage.
Then this past weekend in Grifton, there were about 400 people who rallied in support of North Carolina House Bill 361, which seeks to amend the state's constitution to provide that marriage between a man and woman is the only domestic legal union that shall be valid or recognized in the state.
With the California girl, I just kind of wrote it off as the media looking to bring up a tried and true story that’s proven to increase viewership by somewhere in the neighborhood of, say, 400 percent.
But when I heard 400 people showed up to this rally in Grifton to essentially spread the same message, I was a bit moved. Grifton, N.C., has a population of just more than 2,000 people. The fact that its population increased by nearly 20 percent for something like this is a bit unnerving.
Mainly because Grifton - I’ve learned from my experiences there - is a small town with a lot of big-town issues. And this is what the residents come together for?
According to the Internet, the gay population in Grifton is 5. As in, there are five gay people in Grifton. As in, there are five people who would be directly affected by North Carolina House Bill 361 and about 1, 995 people who wouldn’t.
The fact such a large percentage of people are moved to action by this and not more pressing issues speaks to my assessment that society has got it so good that we’re just looking for things to complain about … but we’re looking past the issues that warrant a good complaint. Off the cliff we go …
Flea markets aren’t used properly.
Since moving to this area from Wilmington, I can’t help but notice a good quantity of flea markets, auctions and farmer‘s markets. There’s even a relatively new auction place in Maysville I’ve been hearing a lot of good things about, the farmer’s market in Trenton and New Bern and a rather large flea market along N.C. 11 between Kinston and Greenville.
You know how there are rules that are begging to be broken? Markets like these sometimes afford us with the opportunity to do so without sacrificing a shred of our dignity.
Case in point: I will one day buy a katana blade I saw at the flea market on N.C. 11. Or somewhere else, should I find one.
I am the last person on this Earth who should have a katana blade or a martial arts weapon of any kind. But since I discovered that I can be the proud owner of one for $40, I’ve decided that the next time such an opportunity presents itself, I will not let it slip by.
But I’d never seek out a katana blade online or in a real martial arts store. Buying it from a strange man with a strange dialect, though, makes it seem like the right thing to do.
I can use it to chop up the fresh fruits and vegetables I purchase for real cheap at a farmer’s market.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Progress?
I would rather kill a man than a snake.
I look at a sparrow balancing effortlessly on a tree branch still quivering from its arrival. Or a king snake slithering over a brush. A yellow jacket. A wren. A rabbit. Any animal we deem “wild.”
They were given the right of way to the land on which we live. Here long before us, they’re left scrambling for shelter and nearly confused as to why they find none.
And we humans in our infinite wisdom, with our willingness to purchase locks and hire private security companies to watch over our stately brick homes in a gated community, have the audacity to be genuinely confused when we find bears in our neighborhoods.
Neighborhoods that are so new - so recently carved out of the forest - that you can still see the seams in the rolls of sod the builders put down in our yards.
Raleigh’s getting famous for this. Notorious. The city’s outskirts, that is - places like Cary, Macedonia. There are others, but mainly Cary. Nothing good comes from Cary from what I‘ve seen of the place. They seemed to use a surgeon’s tools when they designed it - long, skinny instruments used for plucking thread sewn into a denim that clothes shitheads.
Everything‘s new in Carey, but the attitude‘s much of the same old shit. Wild animals are much more worthy of life than the sticker-riddled Suburban drivers who call the news when there‘s a bear loose in their housing development.
I’ve never seen anything good in Cary. A bear is more worthy of life than the majority of Cary’s residents. So pristine is Cary. I hope it goes away, this Cary.
I can’t find anything about the food chain that gives us any more right to complain about wild animals being around than the wild animals to complain about us. We are not in the middle of the chain - we’re at the top. That means if we go away, the chain won’t be as long, but it will still go on. Nothing would be without food if the humans were gone.
The same cannot be said of life if the fish were to disappear or the killed all the insects. We take from everything without putting back, while what they take supports life beyond them.
The chain would be just fine without us, and it will once we kill ourselves off.
Some people believe humans are special. I believe these people should be the least deserving of life. More often than not, they think our species is the chosen race for some religious reason - something to do with Jesus giving more of a damn about us than anything else, therefore paving the way for us to - uninhibitedly - “go forth and prosper.”
People who believe crap like this don’t cherish this world and don‘t deserve to experience its beauty. Not that they do anyway.
Don’t get me wrong - I know there’s a god up there because there’s no way the world became the mish-mash of dog poop it is all on its own.
I’m just saying we’re not fucking special. We’re a mere speck on the timeline of humanity. The world has gone on for millions of years, while we humans haven’t even been here for close to one. But these people think God made this place for us to use at our discretion …
We have destroyed in the last 300 years what has taken millions of years to create. We’re nearing the end of our fossil fuel supply - and that’s been in the Earth since dinosaurs were here. We’ve only been using it since the late 1800s.
Wild animals never had slaves. We did. Wild animals don’t struggle with obesity. We do. Wild animals aren’t watching depression dominate their lives. We are.
But we are the breed of animals chosen by God? You sure?
We just think we are.
I look at a sparrow balancing effortlessly on a tree branch still quivering from its arrival. Or a king snake slithering over a brush. A yellow jacket. A wren. A rabbit. Any animal we deem “wild.”
They were given the right of way to the land on which we live. Here long before us, they’re left scrambling for shelter and nearly confused as to why they find none.
And we humans in our infinite wisdom, with our willingness to purchase locks and hire private security companies to watch over our stately brick homes in a gated community, have the audacity to be genuinely confused when we find bears in our neighborhoods.
Neighborhoods that are so new - so recently carved out of the forest - that you can still see the seams in the rolls of sod the builders put down in our yards.
Raleigh’s getting famous for this. Notorious. The city’s outskirts, that is - places like Cary, Macedonia. There are others, but mainly Cary. Nothing good comes from Cary from what I‘ve seen of the place. They seemed to use a surgeon’s tools when they designed it - long, skinny instruments used for plucking thread sewn into a denim that clothes shitheads.
Everything‘s new in Carey, but the attitude‘s much of the same old shit. Wild animals are much more worthy of life than the sticker-riddled Suburban drivers who call the news when there‘s a bear loose in their housing development.
I’ve never seen anything good in Cary. A bear is more worthy of life than the majority of Cary’s residents. So pristine is Cary. I hope it goes away, this Cary.
I can’t find anything about the food chain that gives us any more right to complain about wild animals being around than the wild animals to complain about us. We are not in the middle of the chain - we’re at the top. That means if we go away, the chain won’t be as long, but it will still go on. Nothing would be without food if the humans were gone.
The same cannot be said of life if the fish were to disappear or the killed all the insects. We take from everything without putting back, while what they take supports life beyond them.
The chain would be just fine without us, and it will once we kill ourselves off.
Some people believe humans are special. I believe these people should be the least deserving of life. More often than not, they think our species is the chosen race for some religious reason - something to do with Jesus giving more of a damn about us than anything else, therefore paving the way for us to - uninhibitedly - “go forth and prosper.”
People who believe crap like this don’t cherish this world and don‘t deserve to experience its beauty. Not that they do anyway.
Don’t get me wrong - I know there’s a god up there because there’s no way the world became the mish-mash of dog poop it is all on its own.
I’m just saying we’re not fucking special. We’re a mere speck on the timeline of humanity. The world has gone on for millions of years, while we humans haven’t even been here for close to one. But these people think God made this place for us to use at our discretion …
We have destroyed in the last 300 years what has taken millions of years to create. We’re nearing the end of our fossil fuel supply - and that’s been in the Earth since dinosaurs were here. We’ve only been using it since the late 1800s.
Wild animals never had slaves. We did. Wild animals don’t struggle with obesity. We do. Wild animals aren’t watching depression dominate their lives. We are.
But we are the breed of animals chosen by God? You sure?
We just think we are.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Wild Rabbits
My love for district attorneys reminds me of that for ex-girlfriends.
There are no two the same.
But hold on, hold on … there’s one thing you ought to know: this is intriguing because prosecutors are probably the most powerful people in the flippin’ world.
Think about it. You know those plea deals and case dismissals they do on a regular basis? Yeah, those can definitely affect a family or two down the road. Select any case where a guy murders someone a three years after a DA allows him to plea down a felony charge to a misdemeanor in order to avoid getting the habitual felon label, which would have guaranteed the defendant serious prison time.
Happens every week in courts throughout eastern N.C.
I’m not going to name names here because the last thing I want is these people finding my blog on some search engine. That would probably affect my job. So, I’ll just say that some District Attorneys are pretty stoked at the idea of getting their name in the paper and revealing details of investigations and cases, while others avoid my phone calls like AIDS.
Not sure what the reasoning is behind either tactic.
In terms of wanting justice, well, I’ve got to give the D.A.s I deal with credit: they all seem to want it, no matter if justice in a particular case equals innocence or guilt. They definitely want to make sure a crime is reported, while an investigation of a person who is innocent doesn’t make the paper (or TV, though who the Hell cares about the TV news?).
And that’s all that’s on my mind tonight. Good night.
There are no two the same.
But hold on, hold on … there’s one thing you ought to know: this is intriguing because prosecutors are probably the most powerful people in the flippin’ world.
Think about it. You know those plea deals and case dismissals they do on a regular basis? Yeah, those can definitely affect a family or two down the road. Select any case where a guy murders someone a three years after a DA allows him to plea down a felony charge to a misdemeanor in order to avoid getting the habitual felon label, which would have guaranteed the defendant serious prison time.
Happens every week in courts throughout eastern N.C.
I’m not going to name names here because the last thing I want is these people finding my blog on some search engine. That would probably affect my job. So, I’ll just say that some District Attorneys are pretty stoked at the idea of getting their name in the paper and revealing details of investigations and cases, while others avoid my phone calls like AIDS.
Not sure what the reasoning is behind either tactic.
In terms of wanting justice, well, I’ve got to give the D.A.s I deal with credit: they all seem to want it, no matter if justice in a particular case equals innocence or guilt. They definitely want to make sure a crime is reported, while an investigation of a person who is innocent doesn’t make the paper (or TV, though who the Hell cares about the TV news?).
And that’s all that’s on my mind tonight. Good night.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Happy to be here at all
For some people, living comes naturally. Like breathing.
Others have to force things a bit. And they do, and they get by.
These two groups of “livers” are the lucky ones. Fortunate to feel the way they do.
Sadly, though, many people are struggling to find their way because of one circumstance or a combination of several. If I could help all these people, I would, but it's a bold course of action that depends completely on these individuals making the choice to press on, staying positive and being thankful for what they've got.
Through a process of intricate, unnoticed evolution, I have become a member of the first group. Life goes so fast and is so damn full that I wish each day - even the ones that aren’t as good as the others - would go on like a broken record. Having a child has everything to do with this. I worry about age, time passing and the next phases coming before I’ve had a chance to appreciate the present.
It was not always like this. My life has been like an unstable business financial chart with more ups and downs than, looking back on it, I knew I was capable of withstanding.
High school was ups and downs but ended with a huge up my junior and senior years. This came down shortly thereafter following my freshman year of college. Didn’t know where I was headed. Hated the town I lived in. Wanted a new one.
Then came Wilmington. My sophomore year was okay at first, but then I realized I’d made a lousy choice in The Port City - I was stuck there until graduation, though.
There’s not much worse than being imprisoned in an village faker than a plastic Christmas tree that’s full of people who represent all the reasons other countries hate America. Time for one of my all-time lows that lasted three years.
I couldn’t wait for college to end.
What got me out of this slump were the chats I’d have with myself - they were pep talks, if you will - on nightly runs, which turned into frequent bike rides. The silence of everything except the sound of your breathing and the rhythm of your sneakers on the pavement or hum of a bike tire on a road leaves you with little capacity for anything else.
“What the fuck are you going to do?” I’d say to myself. “You’re here. This place sucks and everyone knows you think that. Now what. What does that accomplish?”
There was nothing accomplished by my pissing, moaning and seclusion.
I never did make any friends in Wilmington whom I still speak to regularly. I missed the bus on that one. Could have, but never did because I associated every face I saw with “Whispering Pines,” “Shady Meadows” and the golf courses composing the guts of housing traps such as these.
However, I taught myself to stop hating them. And it made my final days in Wilmington bearable. I survived. I began to live again, for the first time since I’d moved to North Carolina.
New Bern brought my first real job, but will forever represent the first time I was a father. Done with school, it was time to do what my dad did: family first, but work a close second. Things still hadn’t clicked.
Thousands of dollars, 18 months of custody battling and a billion smiles from a mischievous little girl who looks just like me later, I have arrived. Now, as I said, I just wish life would get stuck in first gear or at least spend some time in neutral. Living is like breathing these days and I am happy for every moment of my life.
I’m not so dumb to think nothing bad could ever happen in my life, but I’m smart enough to realize nothing could be so bad I cannot recover. That’s the difference between now and then: I am certain things will be just fine.
Life is funny the way it challenges us. Like we all realized our senior year of football, winning isn’t something our class was entitled to - it was something we had to work for.
Yes, life is very much like this.
Others have to force things a bit. And they do, and they get by.
These two groups of “livers” are the lucky ones. Fortunate to feel the way they do.
Sadly, though, many people are struggling to find their way because of one circumstance or a combination of several. If I could help all these people, I would, but it's a bold course of action that depends completely on these individuals making the choice to press on, staying positive and being thankful for what they've got.
Through a process of intricate, unnoticed evolution, I have become a member of the first group. Life goes so fast and is so damn full that I wish each day - even the ones that aren’t as good as the others - would go on like a broken record. Having a child has everything to do with this. I worry about age, time passing and the next phases coming before I’ve had a chance to appreciate the present.
It was not always like this. My life has been like an unstable business financial chart with more ups and downs than, looking back on it, I knew I was capable of withstanding.
High school was ups and downs but ended with a huge up my junior and senior years. This came down shortly thereafter following my freshman year of college. Didn’t know where I was headed. Hated the town I lived in. Wanted a new one.
Then came Wilmington. My sophomore year was okay at first, but then I realized I’d made a lousy choice in The Port City - I was stuck there until graduation, though.
There’s not much worse than being imprisoned in an village faker than a plastic Christmas tree that’s full of people who represent all the reasons other countries hate America. Time for one of my all-time lows that lasted three years.
I couldn’t wait for college to end.
What got me out of this slump were the chats I’d have with myself - they were pep talks, if you will - on nightly runs, which turned into frequent bike rides. The silence of everything except the sound of your breathing and the rhythm of your sneakers on the pavement or hum of a bike tire on a road leaves you with little capacity for anything else.
“What the fuck are you going to do?” I’d say to myself. “You’re here. This place sucks and everyone knows you think that. Now what. What does that accomplish?”
There was nothing accomplished by my pissing, moaning and seclusion.
I never did make any friends in Wilmington whom I still speak to regularly. I missed the bus on that one. Could have, but never did because I associated every face I saw with “Whispering Pines,” “Shady Meadows” and the golf courses composing the guts of housing traps such as these.
However, I taught myself to stop hating them. And it made my final days in Wilmington bearable. I survived. I began to live again, for the first time since I’d moved to North Carolina.
New Bern brought my first real job, but will forever represent the first time I was a father. Done with school, it was time to do what my dad did: family first, but work a close second. Things still hadn’t clicked.
Thousands of dollars, 18 months of custody battling and a billion smiles from a mischievous little girl who looks just like me later, I have arrived. Now, as I said, I just wish life would get stuck in first gear or at least spend some time in neutral. Living is like breathing these days and I am happy for every moment of my life.
I’m not so dumb to think nothing bad could ever happen in my life, but I’m smart enough to realize nothing could be so bad I cannot recover. That’s the difference between now and then: I am certain things will be just fine.
Life is funny the way it challenges us. Like we all realized our senior year of football, winning isn’t something our class was entitled to - it was something we had to work for.
Yes, life is very much like this.
Monday, May 4, 2009
JP column
Anyone ever heard of Bladenboro?
My sophomore year of college at UNC Wilmington, I visited Bladenboro. Found an article on-line after a Google search that went something like “small towns NC” and came across a legend that sent me on an hour’s drive for no good reason.
According to this legend, back in the 50s, a monster of some sort was terrorizing the locals of this small town a couple thousand strong. The media, since the media is responsible for everything no one knows the source of, allegedly dubbed this creature “the Beast of Bladenboro.”
Those poor farm animals who were mauled by the beast.
Regardless of how true the story was or my personal opinion of the fact people believe this could have been true, I decided the day of this trip that Bladenboro had to be seen. It was the “small town NC” I was looking to visit.
I did not see the Beast of Bladenboro that day - but I did see a lot of Bladenboro. I stopped by the eatery that looked to be the most inviting place for the flogging and eventual murder of me, who was probably the only out-of-towner residents had seen that month.
The diner had a scoreboard-looking menu near the front with the names of dishes that should have had italicized descriptions written beneath them. I cannot retell what was served in this place, nor the name of the establishment, because it was so long ago and there’s nothing in this world I’ve seen since that reminds me of it.
At this point, you probably think I’m rambling. I am. So here’s the method to my madness.
I read an article in Greenville’s Daily Reflector over the weekend that reminded me of Bladenboro and places in Jones County. This article was on Bethel - and how it’s declined into almost ghost town-like status since the writer, a Bethel native, was a child.
I’m not sure what the writer wanted: Bethel to regain and retain the charm he remembered from childhood or for Bethel to explode into a plastic subdivision that is the apple of all predatory developers from Florida’s collective eye.
Reminded me of a lot of towns in N.C. … Jones County included.
For certainly there is a happy medium between the two classifications, right? A small town can make it without losing itself; a little community can survive; Florida can stay next to Cuba; Wilmington can continue down its path of becoming known as “Whispering Pines” and “Shady Meadows” without influencing other towns in N.C.
Right?
It’s a struggle I believe your government officials and county administrators are faced with regularly, and are addressing with excellence. Sure, everyone needs jobs, hospitals and restaurants with bright signs out front. But everyone also needs a home - and that’s a lot closer to the bottom of Abraham Maslow’s Hierarchy of Human Needs pyramid than these other things.
If it means much to you, this out-of-towner thinks an awful lot of places like Trenton, Maysville and Comfort (these are only examples and certainly aren‘t the only Jones County towns I like). More often than not, I’ve got no clue what the locals are talking about when I stop by for a bite of whatever concoction might be the special at a tiny diner, but I’d consider it a shame if I ever found a McDonalds to go to instead.
Don’t let outside influences or what the rest of the state’s succumbing to fool you, Jones County. You’ve got a pretty good thing going.
My sophomore year of college at UNC Wilmington, I visited Bladenboro. Found an article on-line after a Google search that went something like “small towns NC” and came across a legend that sent me on an hour’s drive for no good reason.
According to this legend, back in the 50s, a monster of some sort was terrorizing the locals of this small town a couple thousand strong. The media, since the media is responsible for everything no one knows the source of, allegedly dubbed this creature “the Beast of Bladenboro.”
Those poor farm animals who were mauled by the beast.
Regardless of how true the story was or my personal opinion of the fact people believe this could have been true, I decided the day of this trip that Bladenboro had to be seen. It was the “small town NC” I was looking to visit.
I did not see the Beast of Bladenboro that day - but I did see a lot of Bladenboro. I stopped by the eatery that looked to be the most inviting place for the flogging and eventual murder of me, who was probably the only out-of-towner residents had seen that month.
The diner had a scoreboard-looking menu near the front with the names of dishes that should have had italicized descriptions written beneath them. I cannot retell what was served in this place, nor the name of the establishment, because it was so long ago and there’s nothing in this world I’ve seen since that reminds me of it.
At this point, you probably think I’m rambling. I am. So here’s the method to my madness.
I read an article in Greenville’s Daily Reflector over the weekend that reminded me of Bladenboro and places in Jones County. This article was on Bethel - and how it’s declined into almost ghost town-like status since the writer, a Bethel native, was a child.
I’m not sure what the writer wanted: Bethel to regain and retain the charm he remembered from childhood or for Bethel to explode into a plastic subdivision that is the apple of all predatory developers from Florida’s collective eye.
Reminded me of a lot of towns in N.C. … Jones County included.
For certainly there is a happy medium between the two classifications, right? A small town can make it without losing itself; a little community can survive; Florida can stay next to Cuba; Wilmington can continue down its path of becoming known as “Whispering Pines” and “Shady Meadows” without influencing other towns in N.C.
Right?
It’s a struggle I believe your government officials and county administrators are faced with regularly, and are addressing with excellence. Sure, everyone needs jobs, hospitals and restaurants with bright signs out front. But everyone also needs a home - and that’s a lot closer to the bottom of Abraham Maslow’s Hierarchy of Human Needs pyramid than these other things.
If it means much to you, this out-of-towner thinks an awful lot of places like Trenton, Maysville and Comfort (these are only examples and certainly aren‘t the only Jones County towns I like). More often than not, I’ve got no clue what the locals are talking about when I stop by for a bite of whatever concoction might be the special at a tiny diner, but I’d consider it a shame if I ever found a McDonalds to go to instead.
Don’t let outside influences or what the rest of the state’s succumbing to fool you, Jones County. You’ve got a pretty good thing going.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Love for K-town
I’m not typically one for discussing the things that make me happy. Generally, I enjoy sharing negative sentiments more than I do positive ones.
So it’s rather reluctantly that I share the many good things I’ve discovered about the place I am living - and why I’ve got no desire to move away anytime soon.
Kinston, N.C., is a place I used to hear a lot of pissing and moaning about when I lived in other areas of the state. When I lived in Wilmington, Kinstonians I’d meet would tell me what a conservative, backwards-thinking kind of small town it is. When I lived in New Bern, I got to hear about all the crime that’s allegedly in Kinston.
But, mind you, there are reasons - and lots of them - why I moved out of Wilmington and New Bern.
Wilmington’s a place for posers. Knowing now what I didn’t know then, I’d guess the Kinston natives who’d moved to Wilmington did so for a reason: no one in Kinston liked them. It’s only natural they called it backwards - they were too insecure to overlook petty disagreements they probably had with people in Kinston, were driven into a state of nearly-self-destructing seclusion and moved away. Of course they’re going to tell all their fellow outcasts of small N.C. towns and cities who moved to a place as “progressive” as Wilmington to escape.
Those who know me best know I have no love for Wilmington - anyone who lives there by choice and not by default is no friend of mine, and anyone who says they love Wilmington is either a liar or a fool. I have no time for either.
New Bern saying Kinston has a lot of crime is like Lindsey Lohan calling someone a whore. Crime in Kinston? No shit. But there’s a lot of crime everywhere in N.C. and all of the South, so it’s not anything that concerns me. If people down here are bothered by crime rates, they need to do what they can to keep spineless prosecutors out of their courtrooms.
Truth is, Kinston’s my kind of town. There’s not a lot of culture here, which I enjoy because saying a town has culture basically means it’s got a lot of art galleries, which I do not enjoy. It’s not a resort town, either. People who live here live here because they live a life and are being productive members of society. They’re not retired or on vacation.
And my house, specifically, lies outside of the city. It’s close to the grocery store, yet surrounded by fields. I pass acres of cotton and other crops on my return trip from work. Oftentimes, there’s a glorious sunset taking place, too. Can’t ask for much more.
I have a front porch that lets me drink beer and listen to rodents and critters I’ve never seen before while I sit with my feet up, next to a citronella candle. I can plant flowers around my house and let my little girl pretty much roam wherever she’d like, just so long as she doesn’t cross the ditch along the road, which is conveniently three times as deep as she is tall.
It’s quiet where I live.
These characteristics may seem pretty dull to the “progressive” homos who left Kinston for Wilmington. It also may seem dangerous because crime’s pretty steady around the public housing areas downtown. But I think those people can have these other places, as I had them before and left feeling disenchanted, discouraged and downright disgruntled.
Kinston’s all right with me.
So it’s rather reluctantly that I share the many good things I’ve discovered about the place I am living - and why I’ve got no desire to move away anytime soon.
Kinston, N.C., is a place I used to hear a lot of pissing and moaning about when I lived in other areas of the state. When I lived in Wilmington, Kinstonians I’d meet would tell me what a conservative, backwards-thinking kind of small town it is. When I lived in New Bern, I got to hear about all the crime that’s allegedly in Kinston.
But, mind you, there are reasons - and lots of them - why I moved out of Wilmington and New Bern.
Wilmington’s a place for posers. Knowing now what I didn’t know then, I’d guess the Kinston natives who’d moved to Wilmington did so for a reason: no one in Kinston liked them. It’s only natural they called it backwards - they were too insecure to overlook petty disagreements they probably had with people in Kinston, were driven into a state of nearly-self-destructing seclusion and moved away. Of course they’re going to tell all their fellow outcasts of small N.C. towns and cities who moved to a place as “progressive” as Wilmington to escape.
Those who know me best know I have no love for Wilmington - anyone who lives there by choice and not by default is no friend of mine, and anyone who says they love Wilmington is either a liar or a fool. I have no time for either.
New Bern saying Kinston has a lot of crime is like Lindsey Lohan calling someone a whore. Crime in Kinston? No shit. But there’s a lot of crime everywhere in N.C. and all of the South, so it’s not anything that concerns me. If people down here are bothered by crime rates, they need to do what they can to keep spineless prosecutors out of their courtrooms.
Truth is, Kinston’s my kind of town. There’s not a lot of culture here, which I enjoy because saying a town has culture basically means it’s got a lot of art galleries, which I do not enjoy. It’s not a resort town, either. People who live here live here because they live a life and are being productive members of society. They’re not retired or on vacation.
And my house, specifically, lies outside of the city. It’s close to the grocery store, yet surrounded by fields. I pass acres of cotton and other crops on my return trip from work. Oftentimes, there’s a glorious sunset taking place, too. Can’t ask for much more.
I have a front porch that lets me drink beer and listen to rodents and critters I’ve never seen before while I sit with my feet up, next to a citronella candle. I can plant flowers around my house and let my little girl pretty much roam wherever she’d like, just so long as she doesn’t cross the ditch along the road, which is conveniently three times as deep as she is tall.
It’s quiet where I live.
These characteristics may seem pretty dull to the “progressive” homos who left Kinston for Wilmington. It also may seem dangerous because crime’s pretty steady around the public housing areas downtown. But I think those people can have these other places, as I had them before and left feeling disenchanted, discouraged and downright disgruntled.
Kinston’s all right with me.
Friday, May 1, 2009
A cabin in the woods
For the eight months, Kalista and I have been saving for a trip somewhere.
This has amounted to me throwing whatever change is in my pocket at the end of each day into a jar, which I cash in from time to time and deposit into my savings Keep the Change account through Bank of America. Between this effort and the Keep the Change part of the deal, it’s up to about $400.
So it’s time to start looking for a trip. And I need some help.
Kalista has never seen the western half of her home state. That is a shame because, although we happen to live in the eastern part by default, I feel the western part is the best part of North Carolina. You can actually breathe there.
Now, what makes western N.C. so much better (in my humble opinion) than eastern N.C. is that it’s beautiful because the place itself is beautiful and not the things people have put in the place. I guess this is the foundation of all my dismay with coastal N.C. towns. Too many Bojangles, not enough openness.
This is exactly why this weekend excursion has to involve being outside a lot. If it were me, a tent, sleeping bag, load of firewood and a couple cases of beer would be wonderful. But Kalista is 3, so I should be reasonable. Fine.
Don’t suggest a hotel. You might as well reroute our trip to Disneyworld. However, a tent is out of the question for a 3-year-old. She doesn’t need T.V., but she does need electricity and running water.
What I’m looking for is a cabin in the woods.
Any ideas?
Back home, in western New York, state parks had the cabins I’m looking for. One to two-room shacks that had a bathroom, platforms for sleeping bags (beds), fridge and a fireplace. For about $30 bucks a night, you kept the rain off you and had the amenities to perform entry-level medical procedures, but that was it. It was a place to sleep.
I’ve looked at some Web sites. Haven’t looked hard, so I’m not saying cabins like these aren’t out there, but what I have seen is an utter catastrophe. Honeymoon suits, luxury cabins, chandeliers on the back porch balcony overlooking an Indian casino and a stream. Hardly what we’re in the market for.
I know that part of the state has been hit pretty hard by developers, but this must be a possibility. We’re not looking for any area in particular - just somewhere in the mountains.
This has amounted to me throwing whatever change is in my pocket at the end of each day into a jar, which I cash in from time to time and deposit into my savings Keep the Change account through Bank of America. Between this effort and the Keep the Change part of the deal, it’s up to about $400.
So it’s time to start looking for a trip. And I need some help.
Kalista has never seen the western half of her home state. That is a shame because, although we happen to live in the eastern part by default, I feel the western part is the best part of North Carolina. You can actually breathe there.
Now, what makes western N.C. so much better (in my humble opinion) than eastern N.C. is that it’s beautiful because the place itself is beautiful and not the things people have put in the place. I guess this is the foundation of all my dismay with coastal N.C. towns. Too many Bojangles, not enough openness.
This is exactly why this weekend excursion has to involve being outside a lot. If it were me, a tent, sleeping bag, load of firewood and a couple cases of beer would be wonderful. But Kalista is 3, so I should be reasonable. Fine.
Don’t suggest a hotel. You might as well reroute our trip to Disneyworld. However, a tent is out of the question for a 3-year-old. She doesn’t need T.V., but she does need electricity and running water.
What I’m looking for is a cabin in the woods.
Any ideas?
Back home, in western New York, state parks had the cabins I’m looking for. One to two-room shacks that had a bathroom, platforms for sleeping bags (beds), fridge and a fireplace. For about $30 bucks a night, you kept the rain off you and had the amenities to perform entry-level medical procedures, but that was it. It was a place to sleep.
I’ve looked at some Web sites. Haven’t looked hard, so I’m not saying cabins like these aren’t out there, but what I have seen is an utter catastrophe. Honeymoon suits, luxury cabins, chandeliers on the back porch balcony overlooking an Indian casino and a stream. Hardly what we’re in the market for.
I know that part of the state has been hit pretty hard by developers, but this must be a possibility. We’re not looking for any area in particular - just somewhere in the mountains.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Keeping my girl
Never would have guessed a can of ravioli would make me want to quit my job, but that’s sort of what took place this evening.
Before I go any further, I want to make one thing clear: I’m not quitting my job. I love it, really, and know full well I’d regret such a decision. But listen.
As I unloaded some groceries into the cupboards after Kalista went to sleep, I noticed an awful lot of shit. Shit that’s been in there for a while. Shit that’s probably never going to be used.
Several cans of ravioli and other Chef-Boyardee-type products caught my eye as repeat offenders I’d noticed before. Lunch food. Food Kalista will probably never eat because she’s away at lunch time during the week, and we typically eat out on the weekends.
Other foods met in the cupboard met this criteria. Things I bought a while back - probably close to a year ago - that aren’t suitable for dinner or breakfast.
Oh to be a stay-at-home parent. I’d love to feed her four meals a day.
Now, I know through stories I’ve written about the topic that basically the Department of Social Services is set up like this: if you are employed, regardless of your income, you’re not eligible for much help through the county or state.
That all changes if you earn less than $400 per month, though. Then you’re practically living the high life on other people’s dime.
It’s a possibility I have kicked around on my darkest of days but ended up disregarding because, like I said, I love what I do.
However, I’m well aware that someday Kalista’s going to walk down the aisle (of doom, according to me) and I’ll be thinking of her as a 3-year-old. Just wish I could hold onto these moments, I guess, and quitting my job and living off public assistance would afford me the opportunity.
Still not saying I’m going to do it.
Before I go any further, I want to make one thing clear: I’m not quitting my job. I love it, really, and know full well I’d regret such a decision. But listen.
As I unloaded some groceries into the cupboards after Kalista went to sleep, I noticed an awful lot of shit. Shit that’s been in there for a while. Shit that’s probably never going to be used.
Several cans of ravioli and other Chef-Boyardee-type products caught my eye as repeat offenders I’d noticed before. Lunch food. Food Kalista will probably never eat because she’s away at lunch time during the week, and we typically eat out on the weekends.
Other foods met in the cupboard met this criteria. Things I bought a while back - probably close to a year ago - that aren’t suitable for dinner or breakfast.
Oh to be a stay-at-home parent. I’d love to feed her four meals a day.
Now, I know through stories I’ve written about the topic that basically the Department of Social Services is set up like this: if you are employed, regardless of your income, you’re not eligible for much help through the county or state.
That all changes if you earn less than $400 per month, though. Then you’re practically living the high life on other people’s dime.
It’s a possibility I have kicked around on my darkest of days but ended up disregarding because, like I said, I love what I do.
However, I’m well aware that someday Kalista’s going to walk down the aisle (of doom, according to me) and I’ll be thinking of her as a 3-year-old. Just wish I could hold onto these moments, I guess, and quitting my job and living off public assistance would afford me the opportunity.
Still not saying I’m going to do it.
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