Shuffle.

The boxes get packed, the boxes get moved, the boxes get unpacked.

And somehow when you unpack them, they contain more than you packed into them. The shelves aren’t big enough. There aren’t enough drawers. The closets are tiny. And then there is the pile of stuff you thought you had lost, and the pile of stuff thought lost that you wish still was because you don’t know what to do with it.

This is one of those moments. Somewhere between an end and a beginning. Neither, yet both. Its like playing a game of poker. Someone has just cleaned out the pot, and the next hand isn’t on the table yet. The time when you shuffle the deck, shake things up a bit. Throw a little extra random chance into the mix.

So when the boxes are gone, and all that remains is the beginning of something new, I wonder what kind of hand I’ll have been dealt.

Hey you!

Yeah, you.

I’m going to level with you.

I’m going to be honest with you in a way that none of your friends will.

Honest in a way that even your family has yet to attempt.

No matter how much money you spend, no matter what kind of tires, or head lights, or tail lights, or spoilers, or decals, or hub caps you put on. No matter what kind of stereo you put in. No matter how often you wash and detail it. No matter how much effort you put in. No matter how hard you try. You are still driving a 4 door Honda Civic.

You are not cool.

Quit lying to yourself.

This vehicular delusion intervention has been brought to you by probablynot.com, because frankly, we don’t like you.

Public Facilities.

Okay, enough with all the serious shit and on with some serious shit talk.

Nine times out of ten, I really have no problem with using a public restroom, but then there is always that one time…

First off, I realize that handicapped people need a little more room to manuver in the stall, but do they really need a stall that’s 3 times the size of the rest of the bathroom? You know the kind I’m talking about, where when you sit down it feels like you are on the crapper in the middle of a room and not behind a little locked door, where if the lock fails and someone starts to open it you have no chance in hell of being able to push it shut from where you are sitting, so you either wait for them to notice you sitting there, or you hop up and waddle with your pants at your ankles, one-eyed winky waving in the wind, and slam the door shut on their fingers. Sure, you could just yell, “Hey, someone’s in here!” but they don’t always listen.

Continuing with handicapped toilets, why are they so much taller? I’m 5’10” and normally when I sit down on the john my feet fit snugly on the floor, which is a good thing. I personally find that things work themselves out much more smoothly if I can apply a little pressure to the floor, much like driving (try it some time if you don’t drive stick, use your left foot and apply a little pressure to the floor with your heel, you’ll find that your right foot moves more accurately and quickly over the other pedals making driving and stopping just a bit easier). However, in a handicapped stall my heels hover about a half inch over the ground at maximum stretch. No leverage. Most times, if I walk into a bathroom and see that only the handicapped stall remains, I’ll leave. Sometimes though, the “special” stall is the only stall and one has no options.

Beyond those design flaws, most bathrooms are pretty nice. Paper, seat covers, soap, towls, sink, urinal, stalls (with locks on doors). Of course, men’s rooms typically lack the couches and free coffee that some women’s rooms have, but that’s the price we pay for being allowed to pee standing up I suppose.

What really makes most public facilities bad are the other patrons. Some men can’t aim. Or because they don’t want to wash their hands will try to piss “freestyle”. Sometimes this works, other times it works like any other hose. As a kid, we used to unhook the garden hose from the sprinkler then crank up the power from the faucet. It would fling around and spray everywhere and we’d run through it yelling and screaming. Thank god they finally invented that toy that sprayed water around like that, getting hit by the metal flying end fo the hose hurt! But the point is, freestylers tend to piss all over the place. The urinal, the floor, their shoes (don’t they care???), their pants, the divider between the urinals (if there is one). The only saving grace is that they usually don’t piss on the flush handle. Put a freestyler in a stall, however, and all bets are off. This is why most men flush with their foot. Automatic flushers were invented by men for just this reason.

And I won’t even get in to the guys who appearantly either eat whole cows or don’t shit for 2 weeks, and then follow that with 2 rolls of paper. Its not that they don’t flush, its that flushing, as this juncture, becomes moot.

And whatever happened to the shit house poet? I miss the days of amusing myself with the writing on the walls. The phone numbers, the dirty jokes, the crude pictures. Ahh, the good ole days….

Ah well, enough with my ranting…

Life…

Yesterday was my first real day on the new job. No more training, just go in, log in to the phones and start taking calls.

At almost the exact instant that I sat down at my desk and logged in, on the other end of the call center, a man slumped over at his desk.

A few people from the call center performed CPR until the paramedics arrived. The EMS team rushed him off to the hospital where he was pronounced dead on arrival.

Last I heard, there was still no known reason for his collapse. It has been attributed to a possible coronary arrest or aneurism, and in all likelihood probably something he was unaware he was in danger of having.

Life is short, Live it well.

The New Year…

A few years ago, I made a New Year’s Resolution: Not to make any more New Year’s Resolutions.

This wasn’t to be funny, or ironic. Its the basis of a simple belief against people requiring some landmark day just to get the motivation to better themselves, or to do something they should be doing anyway.

I still hold to this myself. But looking out at the world, I realize that people need these kinds of crutches to force themselves to stop eating the food they love but is turning them into a giant shambling mass on the couch in front of the TV.

Its not that I somehow view myself as better than anyone else, its just that I don’t need New Year’s Day… I have enough other crutches that I use to get the job done.

A Beautiful Mind.

I saw this over the weekend, and it was good.

I was expecting this movie to be a fact based docu-drama type film about the life of John Nash. But with Ron Howard at the wheel, I should have known better. Even when the situation was heartbreaking, he would remind you that there was hope. In the midst of his madness I found myself smiling, even laughing out loud.

In with the New.

And now it is 2002…

In a couple of weeks I’ll be moving to a new apartment, and the new job is going… as well as expected (sucks). In any event, the page may not get updated as often in the next month as I settle things down a bit.

See you soon.

Out with the Old…

Its December 31st, 2001. In a few short hours we will be officially 1 year into the 21st Century. (There was no year 0, quit arguing, 2000 was important but the century began 1/1/2001)

2002.. its a mirror year (meaning you split it down the middle and it has the same numbers on both sides), the last one was 1991, and there won’t be another until 2112, and since I plan on being 137 years old at that time, I may or may not see it (come on immortallity!!).

Its New Year’s. Time to wipe the slate clean. Forgive and forget. Acknowledge and move on.

And party.

See you tomorrow folks.

The Holidays.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

Though I may complain about the expenditure, or the hassle, or a myriad other things, in the end, Christmas is always wonderful. Once the gifts have been opened, and the ham been sliced, and we sit around the table telling the same stories we tell every holiday, and almost every Sunday at the family dinner, there is a glow. Not of light, but a crackling warm emotion in the air, like you could just reach out and hug the world.

So, from everyone here at Squadleader.com (which is really just me), have a safe and happy Christmas and keep it going through the new year.

2002 is looking to be an interesting place.

Enjoy.

And see you next year.

And in the Darkness, Bind Them.

The day has come and passed. The Lord of the Rings was finally brought to the silver screen properly (Ralph Bakshi’s bastardization doesn’t count, and if I close my eyes and repeat “it does not exist” maybe it might come true).

Wow.

And…

Wow.

The film is beautiful. The effects are amazing. Every actor nails their role. Peter Jackson has succeeded (so far) in bringing one of the most loved fantasy novels to life. For almost 3 hours, I didn’t blink. I didn’t want to miss a single frame.

I could go on about the story and the film, but I will leave it at this: Sitting to one side of me in the theater was a girl that I overheard in pre-movie chit-chat had never read the books. When Boromir died, she wept. This is the words of Tolkien and the vision of Jackson. Simply amazing.