David Lee Wrath



So this weekend, some tool and his inbred wife decided to join our table uninvited at the local watering hole. It went downhill from there. While I was pretty much hurt/angry from the minute the guy told me I look like the dude from “King of Queens” I guess I’m the last person to say exactly what happened. Since the other two people who were there read this blog, they can feel free to comment on my clouded details.


Aside from that obvious jab, he mumbled a bit about me being a fat and lazy bastard and then stated I was just sitting there because I “couldn’t kick his ass.” Truthfully, I’m not proud about how very ready I was to do just that. Normally I try and avoid the type of little man syndrome most of us under 5’9” let dictate our lives. That night, if he wanted to throw hands, I was more than willing.

Dude let it be known he was an ex-marine and he weight trained. Funny thing is I don’t think either would have helped him much since he was so drunk just keeping his eyes open was a challenge. I was just hoping and waiting for the guy to make some type of physical move, because my expression told him I had enough of his $h1t. He kept pointing out I was saying “your cool” but in reality giving him the look of death. To his credit I was.

It took me some hours later to calm down. I was just flat out angry. I haven’t wanted to punch someone so much since high school. Unfortunately my bad attitude carried on for a couple of hours and I wasn’t exactly the nicest guy to have to ride home with. Peace was restored and apologies were made. I’m proud that I took the higher ground and didn’t get into it with this guy, but I’m not proud that I was looking for any reason to. I’m about the most non violent person on the planet and unfortunately that night I was more than willing to step out of character.

So later, I made a mental list of reasons this guy was such a jerk.
1. His wife looked like Steve Buscemi in a wig
2. He lived in Middleburg
3. He is three years older than me and looks at least 40
4. He’s going bald
5. He has 4 kids
6. His wife lost her job at Winn-Dixie
7. Some youthful indiscretion led him to get a Punisher tattoo on his forearm.

In retrospect, I kind of felt bad for the guy. I don’t know what he had to prove. Truth be told though, I could have taken him in any verbal battle he wanted and in his condition; I don’t think a physical showdown would have been pretty either. Moral of the story, you’re never too old to have someone push your buttons. I need to work on not being so hyper-sensitive, because who cares what some drunken idiot thinks?

I’ve been trying to think of a way to comment on this that doesn’t fall into stereotypes about Liberals or find something that hasn’t already been said.
I’m not crazy about Massachusetts’s winters, but God bless Kerry and Kennedy. It is sad that these two are about as charismatic as Wilford Brimley on horse tranquilizers, but at least they stand for what they believe in. Unfortunately, they were/are not enough. The Democratic Party is on its last leg my friends. I don’t suspect Dems are more scrupulous than any other politician but I’ll take my chances with them. I love how conservatives always point out a scandal with Ted Kennedy that happened before I was born. Yet Bush is the first president with a felony on his record. Seriously, if you’re dumb enough to think he’s never had anyone killed, then you deserve him as your leader.

This morning, this song came on and I gave it more meaning, because I was thinking about that connection that gives the whole existance thing purpose. I too am looking for the point where soul meets body.






Launch in external player

I feel a certain amount of guilt for not jumping out of bed everyday. As far as jobs go, mine certainly isn’t the worst one on the planet. I have a nice girlfriend, a nice place to live and no shortage of all the things that make people content. Why then do I dread the beginning of another week? Sadly, I don’t think I am alone. I have so many things in life that I appreciate daily like good friends and family, but my job has never been one of them. I can not even say it is isolated to my current position. I’ve grown to find every job a challenge to get up in the morning for (except for teaching, which inspired me, but apparently I was no good at that).

A very large part of me hopes that there’s more meaning in this life career wise. Sure I’m looking forward to marriage and kids and plenty of other personal achievements, but it seems like we, as a nation, spend the majority of our time at work. So no matter how great my two days off might be, the fact that coming back to work after the weekend chips at my soul makes me wonder if I can take another 35 years of working.


I’d love to find a job that I enjoy. Wouldn’t we all? I don’t need to get paid to play video games or expect a stress free environment. I would just like to find something I believe in and love enough to get through the emptiness and repetition that I suspect we all feel weighing us down every time a new work week begins.

If someone came to me and said they want to find something they love or find meaning in, I'd probably tell them "no one likes what they do" and then explain we all just "do what we have to do." Perhaps that is true, but I'm not ready to resolve myself to it just yet.

One of my buddies from myspace is going out to Seattle. Unfortunately for her, it is raining right now. It tends to rain like crazy this time of year. Yet I still love that city. I did a search online for some pictures of Seattle and found this random shot from someone’s backyard. Honestly, it is about the nicest metropolitan area in the United States. I’ve liked Portland, Santa Fe and Vegas, but none of them holds a candle to Seattle. At least for me. I’ve been there on the cold and gray days too and honestly those are no worse than anywhere else in the country (hello New England!) Now, I just have to convince my lady friend it is the place to be.

So O.B.L (his terrorism rap name) mentions a book called “Rogue State” on his taped message and next thing you know it went from obscurity to #30 in Amazon.com sales. Next month, I hear he is recommending “To Kill a Mockingbird.” Actually, if he went for “Tropic of Cancer” he could implement literary terrorism. That book sucked on a level only a “classic” could. If everyone started reading that, aside from heads imploding, those who actually understood the book would be mentally incompetent from that day forward, or criminally insane. So maybe he is on to something.


Here is a sample from “Tropic of Cancer.”

I believe that today more than ever a book should be sought after even if it has only one great page in it: we must search for fragments, splinters, toenails, anything that has ore in it, anything that is capable of resuscitating the body and soul. It may be that we are doomed, that there is no hope for us, any of us, but if that is so then let us set up a last agonizing, bloodcurdling howl, a screech of defiance, a war whoop! Away with lamentation! Away with elegies and dirges! Away with biographies and histories, and libraries and museums! Let the dead eat the dead. Let us living ones dance about the rim of the crater, a last expiring dance. But a dance!

This was probably the most comprehendible passage and its message was essentially that even a crappy work of art has some redeeming quality. In the case of this book, I did mange to get 75 cents trading it in at my college bookstore.

Ha!
The jokes on you.

It occurred to me yesterday as I was listening to the local pop station that Weezer’s reemergence was no accident. There they were playing “Beverly Hills” right between some Ashlee Simpson and Kelly Clarkson. I truly think Rivers Cuomo is brilliant. Here is a song about being a left out loser lamenting the fact “preppy girls” don’t give him the time of day. Thus was born a tune praising rampant consumerism and a shallowness found only in the epicenter of all things superficial, Beverly Hills, California.

That song being a hit is a reason alone to make me believe Cuomo is a genius. He even admits to studying what makes a hit a hit. The funny thing is the guy is a meditating Buddhist, yet his songs follow a formula of mentioning being uncool, not getting the girl and finding solace in toking up. I’ll admit I bought his message once, but I was 18 at the time and I think, at least then, Rivers Cuomo believed what he was signing about. At least more so then he does now.

Somewhere around his mid-20s, Cuomo put together the best album Weezer has done to date. “Pinkerton” revealed emotional layers that many artists would hesitate to share a peek at. Cuomo threw it on the table as if to say “look at my freshly spilled guts, they’re still steaming.” The album was a commercial flop. I spent the next few years longing for more of that from Weezer. Eventually, they toured again. I went and along with everyone else, I knew and sang along all the lyrics to their catalogue. At that time it was 2 albums. Two years later, I saw the band again and had to wade through late teen wannabe hipsters who toked up, as if on cue, to the opening chords of “Hash Pipe.”

Weezer ushered in their triumphant return with the “Green Album.” It was a 30 minute tribute to the perfect pop song. At least one track was so catchy the Olsen Twins used it in one of their movies. Things came full circle and a new generation discovered Weezer. The sad thing is they don’t know the Weezer I knew and still love. They know the Weezer that sings songs about getting high and meeting girls. Something tells me this soon to be Harvard grad and practicing Buddhist marching headlong into middle age hasn’t touched a hash pipe or a groupie in a very long time. I wouldn’t be surprised if he pops out a 200 page dissertation on how easily manipulated the masses are. The rough draft is weighed down by a 12 sided die somewhere is a sparse apartment in the dodgy side of Hollywood.

Maybe I like them because their name is a reference to Belle and Sebastian. Regardless, check out “Dylan in the Movies.”
I’ve been trying to avoid sad bastard music, but these guys are growing on me. I was almost happy and well adjusted.

What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?

Anyone worth their weight in Pop Rocks immediately recognizes that little quote.


So, a cautionary tale. If you get some weird itch to see “The Ringer” take my advice and don’t. Partly due to a 3 star review in the local “alternative” paper, a friend and I decided to give it a chance. I have to admit, I’m pretty hard to offend so that definitely was not the case. The movie didn’t over step any boundaries for me. I was also glad to see some people get screen time who clearly do not fall into the typical Hollywood actor mold. The challenged actors in the film were great and of course showed what they are really capable of. My beef with the film is this. It was a comedy that forgot to be funny. Lighthearted, yes, but not funny.

I think Johnny Knoxville might want to go back to stapling things to his testicles, because that was the last time most of us saw him in his element. Every other time I’ve seen him on screen, he looks about as comfortable as Richard Simmons at a bikini contest. Mr. Knoxville, return to what the good Lord intended you to do and start setting your farts on fire.

Remain calm. Try to pretend we haven’t completely drained the planet’s resources. I mean, it keeps spinning no matter what we do to it. Try to convince yourself that we haven’t pissed off every other nation, including our supposed allies. Then tell yourself that security is a reality and not the product of what we are taught to believe. Most of us believed in Santa until someone told us differently anyways.


I think this is probably why I don’t like flying. It really brings forward how skewed things have gotten lately. You are deprived of rights and dignity (trust me I get searched more than guys with all consonants in their name and a beard to their waist). Then you’re at the mercy of someone you don’t know to get you from point A to point B on a mode of transportation than inherently defies the natural order of things. There are literally hundreds of people ensuring your safety on any given flight and should one of them have one too many cocktails at lunch; their carelessness could mean your life. There you are strapped in and helpless.


Now we get another tape from Bin Laden saying they’re planning a new attack. Ask yourself, how much do you trust the government? I’ve been trying for almost 5 months to get my mail forwarded. The chances that color coded warnings and guys like me getting cavity searched at the airport are the reasons we have been safe the last 4 years sounds about al likely as our country adopting the metric system, increasing funding for education and collectively getting off our fat asses.

I finally saw “Brokeback Mountain” yesterday. It truly was a beautiful testament to love. I was thankful that I don’t have to fight society’s idea of “normal” to be with the one I love. I will not ruin the film for you, but honestly everyone should see it. I had some old man confront me in the hallway afterwards asking me if I saw “that” movie. I expected an argument from him here in the neo-con southland. Instead, he just wanted to talk about how great it was. I guess there is hope, but I felt that way when I went to a packed premiere of “Fahrenheit 911” here. I thought for sure Bush would be out in 2004.


I’m still working on the life path. It is easy to sit back and be the uncarved block, but I need to have a plan soon because I’m going to be ready for a family and things like extra school and soul searching don’t mesh well with child rearing.

Today I learn a sad fact. A member of my family was being abused physically. It is heart breaking to me and it is taking extra restraint for me to not track down the abuser. The abuser in this case is a woman in her 70s. Of course, I would never hit a woman, but the fact that she has attacked someone older and weaker than her makes me want to take my 40 year age advantage and show her what is up. She’ll get hers though. Hopefully when she is alone in a nursing home rotting away, she’ll get a taste of how it feels.

Operation what to do with my life has been an ongoing process. I’ve determined this much. I like helping people and I like kids. I am not, however, a good teacher. I have many fine qualities, but task master is not in my character. So teaching is out. I’ve been kicking around the other areas I could work in like School Psychologist, Speech language Pathologist, Guidance Counselor.

Honestly, I would probably be good at any of those, because they would let me work one on one with kids. Helping 1 kid is more my cup of tea than trying to keep 45 of them on task all day. So there is the short list. I’m getting closer to finding my niche. As for the school guidance, I really think I would be good at that. It requires I get another masters of course. Really the one thing stopping me there is the abuse issue. I’ll would very likely be put in a situation were I have an abused child on my hands. Honestly, if I came face to face with someone who was abusing a kid, I would hurt them.

So then there is school psychology. It is a deceptive title because your actually do very little counseling. You’re really testing kids and then assigning them to various program based on the results. It almost seems like you’re playing God. That would bother me. I would lie awake at night wondering if the kid who’s test results were borderline is now doomed to a life of balancing tires because of my decisions.


So that leaves Speech Language Pathology. When I started school, I went into Biology. I’ve always been fascinated with the sciences and all things medical. So in essence this is the most practical “medical” field I could enter without doing another bachelors. Of course I would be taking plenty of prerequisites. All things in, every one of these would require 3-4 years more of school. I just don’t see the masters I have becoming a job I love and I definitely do not want to inch up the ranks in my current field. Maybe I’m just having an early mid-life crisis.

This morning, I was up at 6 and on my way to work. It was truly a brilliant and beautiful sky. REM once called it a “memory kind of sky” and that is exactly what it was. If you were going to film a vampire movie and needed the perfect full moon shot, this was it. The thing was so engorged and bright; I almost put my glasses on. It’s funny how clouds seem to move around this type of moon to get out of its way.

While I was captivated by the lunar cycle, which culminates in a full moon tonight, I was noticing lots and lots of birds. Literally, I saw flocks of hundreds gathering along the road. Maybe it is my distant Seminole blood from shaman ancestors of decades past, but I got this gut instinct something is going down. Maybe I was just overreacting to the fact the weather changed from rainy, humid and warm to cold, windy and dry in the course of 6 hours. I’m just feeling something in the air.

I don’t know much about astrology, but I do know when Mercury is in retrograde weird things happen. Last I checked, we were not in that cycle. I have had a few people tell me there have been wires crossed and miscommunication in their lives lately. So I know I’m not alone on this. Of course, the weirdest thing that has happened to me lately was losing my GameBoy games. I opened my luggage after the holidays and it was gone. So somewhere at Logan airport, some TSA employee is passing his downtime with Dodgeball and X Men.

Jay: We're gonna bust up that stage like a high school kegger. We're just gonna outwit Lafours "X-men" style.
Brodie: Should I call you "Logan", Weapon-X?
Jay: No, "Wolverine"! Snicky snicky snoin!...

Well this arrived at the right time. Here are two people. The MRI shows one that is a healthy weight and another that is obese. Notice anything? My observations include
1) the obese person's knees look ready to buckle
2) the obese person's heart has shifted to accomidate their girth.
3) the obese person has lots of undigested food in their system. It looks like a whole sausage is rotting in their colon.
4) the heart on the obese MRI looks like a fatty steak. It has enlarged.

So Pat Robertson thought Sharon’s stroke was God’s punishment for dividing his land.
Thank you John Stewart for pointing out the obvious. Sharon is fat and old. That causes strokes. Well Pat, explain this. It seems like Pat Robertson is finally comfortable enough to show his true colors now that the right wing yo yos are running things. He has said a lot of stupid things lately, but this is my favorite for sheer stupidity. Did Richard Pryor die for saying the “f word?” Maybe Nell Carter died because she didn’t save Joey Lawrence from the rampant Judaism of Hollywood. This guy is either a brilliant manipulator of the moronic masses or just plain stupid himself. I guess time will tell, but I vote the latter.

Wait a few weeks to congratulate me, she's breaking the news to Brad right now. Let's revisit this classic.

So tonight I’m joining Weight Watchers. I’ve always been candid on this blog site (or at least to the extent I avoid hurting others or sharing things I don’t feel like sharing). It isn’t a proud moment for me. I’ve never been skinny. I just don’t think it is in the cards for me. So my goals are modest. I just want to be a healthy weight. I can not say I’m anywhere near that right now. Lord knows I have been vigilant too. I think we all tend to put on weight somewhere between college and 30 and being a fat kid, I was always aware of that danger. Imagine if I had not been going to the gym? Yet the gym is deceptive. Working out 45 minutes a day doesn’t give you the right to drink Coke like water and eat whatever you feel like.


I need guidelines and borders and real measurable things like what a portion size is. I have no concept. Apparently neither do most people from the looks of folks these days. My pride for the longest time has kept me from pursuing a weight loss plan. I like to think I can do things myself. I know what is healthy. We all do. Unfortunately the minute you start telling yourself you have to avoid something (like sugar or fat) you immediately begin to crave it. That has been my experience. Weight Watchers is good because it doesn’t tell you that you can not have certain foods. You can go have a Big Mac. The catch is you have to either eat dressing-free salad the rest of the day or exercise like crazy to get allocated more food. So in effect, there is no “cheating” but instead real and tangible repercussions. I might not make the connection that that Snickers I had in July is the reason why I’m not able to fit into my pants today, but I certainly can make the connection to the Snickers I had this morning as the reason why I’m eating a bland Lean Cuisine for lunch.

I think it is that association that most fat people lack. You ask me and I’ll tell you I work out and I don’t think I eat anymore than anyone else. Honestly, it feels true to me as I’m sure it does to many people who seek drastic and desperate solutions in things like Gastric Bypass. I’m not the guy you point and laugh at sitting by the mall Starbucks who spills over the side of the bench. I am, however, heavier than I should be. Unfortunately our society of excess has made me part of the majority. I’m planning to make an honest effort this time to make lifestyle changes. I may bore you with rich and vivid detail of what I eat every day or I may never mention this quest again on the blog. Shame filled and failed attempts at weight loss can destroy anyone’s desire to share or get their hopes up. Accountability might be good, but rest assured how much of my success or failure is documented on this blog will be based purely on which serves the greater good. In this case, that is my health and happiness.

HA!
I knew something wasn't right. I have been a gym regular for years now. I started when I quit smoking an dlived across the street from a gym. I went almost daily. Eventually, I feel off the gym wagon until a few month sback when I found a YMCA near work and started going on my lunch break. Since that time, I have gained weight. Trust me when I tell you it isn't muscle. Exercise gives me a ferocious appetite and of course we all know by simple math (1 mile=100 calories) you have to walk/run 3 miles 12 times to burn off a pound. That is provided the extra activity doesn't lead to extra snacking. I found this article to be really interesting. While we can ALL (fat and thin) do with a little more movement, we need to realize that it isn't neccesarily going to lead to weight loss.

So this is the New Year.
And I don't feel any different.
The clanking of crystal
Explosions off in the distance.
So this is the new year
And I have no resolutions
For self assigned penance
For problems with easy solutions

So everybody put your best suit or dress on
Let's make believe that we are wealthy for just this once
Lighting firecrackers off on the front lawn
As thirty dialogues bleed into one

I wish the world was flat like the old days
Then I could travel just by folding a map
No more airplanes, or speed trains, or freeways
There'd be no distance that can hold us back.
~Death Cab for Cutie



So every year I have my reflective ‘here is another year gone faster than expected’ blog.

This could go either way.

Today marked the first day back to work for me following the holidays. I feel hope and relief the expectation of the season has come and gone. Who wouldn’t? Only the most die hard individual would want that level of masochism to last any longer than it has too. We fill our emptiness with binging on bad food and buying crap we can not afford. Then the New Year comes and we vow better things.

I could say I don’t have any resolutions. It has been 3 years since I made one that stuck and still I struggle daily to keep that one together. I was bad this holiday season and got carried away with the celebratory gorging that comes with it. So I walked in the ice and snow to the convenience store around the corner and bought a pack of Newports. I smoked half of one and donated the rest of the pack to my girlfriend’s brother in-law. He is one of those rare creatures that can smoke in moderation. Some how he does one cigarette a day. My theory is if you can get by with only one a day, then why not quit all together? To each their own I guess.

I also checked my blood sugar a couple of times over the break. It was on a whim since I noticed I have been feeling crapy lately and I had access to the equipment. My blood sugar registered high just a couple hours after eating candies and other assorted no nos. Then fasting the next morning, I barely fell into the normal range. It did make me realize I need to monitor what I eat. So I’m working on cutting sugar out as much as I can. I don’t really like it anyway and I’ve noticed as I eat something sugary it makes me just crave more sugar. It feeds itself.

I guess if I had a genuine resolution, it is this. I’m resolving to stop fighting things and live in reality. 2006 marks my 5th anniversary at the same job. It is also the year that will usher in my 30s. I just went online and ordered pants a waist size bigger than the ones I have and a length’s size smaller. I’ve been laboring under the illusion that I’m taller and thinner than I actually am. I guess it will be nice to not have to take a deep breath every morning as I wrestle with getting my work pants on. If 2006 had a motto, it would be acceptance. Good or bad, I have to stop trying to fit square things in circular holes and my burgeoning gut into too small pants. That and I plan to poor a 40 out for Blue.