Author: anthony Page 34 of 77

Jim and I went to IHOP tonight for dinner. It was a slow night and we were the only ones in our server’s section. He and I talked about our respective days and the server was chatty when she came around as well.

We finished our meals and the server came back over. She talked about how she’d dropped something in the lettuce bin and spilled a bunch of ice and made a mess.

Then she said, “Mind if I ask how old you guys are?”

Not really sure where this was going, I replied,

“43”

“Oh,” she said, “Well, I’m not even going to ask you,” she said to Jim and was off again to get us the check.

It took me a minute to process what had happened. She wasn’t just making conversation. She was trying to find out – in the bluntest way possible – if either of us qualified for the senior discount. Since the “obviously older” of the two of us was 43, she figured that was it and did not give us any percentage off.

Jim, who is a bit older than I am, could barely contain his mirth. I glowered.

When the she came back over I told her, “For the record, he’s older than me”.  Because I was feeling petty – you got a problem with that?

She asked how old he was and Jim didn’t want to say. She then joked about not feeling old herself, but her 34 year old daughter made her feel old.

We paid the check and went to the car where, at my urging, Jim looked up when a senior discount kicks in at IHOP. The answer?

55.

She thought I looked at least 55.

Are you shitting me? I do not look 55. A little gray hair and suddenly I’m pushing around a walker.

55, my ass. Which, speaking of, could pass for a 20 year old’s.

I was in a bit of snit the rest of the evening and we called it an early night. I mean, yes, she meant well and was trying to save us a little money, but 55?

You can’t see it from there, but I’m scowling.

Senior discount… grumble, grumble.

I got my first gray hair at 18, started losing my hair in my early thirties, and got a “welcome to AARP” card in my mid 30’s.  Yeah, thank you.

And if anyone makes a “golden buckeye” joke, prepare to be kicked in the nuts. Yeah, it’s like that.  And yeah, it’s gotta be like that.

Now I’m going to go play some Minecraft and listen to some dubstep while I do it.

55.

I read an article online last night about more cuts at the university. In this case, it took the form of faculty members that did not get their contacts renewed. Not because they weren’t excellent teachers. Just… because. It sounds like they are being offered adjunct positions – with fewer benefits and a cut in salary so extreme as to be insulting.

Also heard that the dining services has taken another hit – but since those folks were ones that had been transitioned to an outside company, it doesn’t ‘quite’ count.

Cutting faculty – or however this is being spun – is pretty dangerous for a university. If you are fighting a drop in enrollment, getting rid of faculty looks – and is – bad for the students.

I’m sad and disappointed. And, once again, I’m afraid for my job.

——————————

I was in a hurry today and went to Wendy’s for lunch.

And I got carded.

I had paid with my debit card and the cashier needed to see my ID. Apparently, this location has had a lot of problems with fraudulent cards and this was the remedy.

I handed her my ID and she scrutienized it, then handed it back. My food came out shortly there-after and I checked it to see if the sandwich was right – it was – and I was on my way.

Feeling a bit like a criminal.

This is like paying with a $20 and having the clerk check it with special anti-counterfeit marker.

Or having to remove your shoes at the airport. Or sit through that Anti-priacy FBI message on every FREAKING DVD EVER.

The most law abiding of us are being treated like criminals left and right. Not by other people – exactly – but by systems that are then run by people. There may have been some good idea behind these things at one time, but now they are so ingrained that the idea of getting rid of them causes some kind of collective panic.

Instead of making things safer, we just end up with more clever criminals. And everyone else is just a little bit guilty all the time by association.

——————-

My de-clutter and de-crapification is continuing. I’ve been doing some yard work when it’s light out and then working on boxes and crates of “stuff” in the evening.

Progress is slow, but adding just a bit of order to the day has been good for me. My place is kind of a mess while I go through things, but I’m creating an underlying order that is strangely reassuring.

It’s also a lot of personal honesty. Will I wear that again? No. Can I use that bit of junk for something else? No. Do I really need 2 back-up keyboards. Seriously, no.

One back-up is enough.

It’s an exercise in concentrating on what matters. And I think that’s important. So easy to get distracted by so much all the time… a little mindfulness and attention can made a difference.

Or at least it does for me. I’m not really de-stressed or suddenly giddy at work, but I’m maybe finding a little perspective.

The other day, Jim needed a particular tool for his ceramics class project. It’s a wooden tool with metal loops at each end for craving clay. I have one and went to look for it.

And couldn’t find it.

I’ve got a room with my crafting supplies in it and I tore that room apart looking for this one tool. Then I looked through the rest of my house.

Nothing.

I know I have this and it bothered me that I couldn’t find it. I mean, a lot. There’s a line in Fight Club that talks about “the things we own, end up owning us”.

And apparently, I’m owned by a lot of crap. It’s cool crap, for the most part. Parts of projects to be or supplies that I used some of and still have left. And a lot of “wouldn’t that be nice to use for…”

So, I’ve started to de-crapify my house. Clear out the things that I don’t need or don’t hold strong memories. It will be a slow process, but something I want to do. Having a thing just to have a thing – with no practical or useful purpose or strong meaning/memory – has really started to bother me.

I’ll be digitizing some things. Recycling and donating where I can. And trashing – over a period of time – the rest. Keeping what I really need and really want to have.

All this is also a reaction to work – which has been intensely stressful and chaotic of late. Getting a little bit of order back, even just clearing out a junk drawer, is doing good things for my head.

And my head was not doing well today. I had a moment, towards the end of the day, where I just got overwhelmed. It just felt so… futile.

The fix for this is to keep organizing to balance out the chaos. Get some more outdoor exercise and work on my yard.

And maybe, just maybe, take a day off.

I had a rough day at work on Monday. It was raining and I was cranky and I just wanted to get rid of some of my stress. And for me, the pool is the best way to do it. So, gear bag across my back, I headed over to the pool after work. I got changed, went out to the pool deck, and scowled.

The pool was busy. Every lane had multiple people in it. I asked the lifeguard what was open for swimming and they said lanes 1-3 – though I should use 2 or 3 since there was a swim lesson going on in lane one.

Lanes 2 and 3 both had at least 4 people in them each – overflow from the swim team practice. I can’t keep up with them and would only be in the way. Fortunately, the woman doing the swim lesson offered up half the lane – Prefect.

I hit the water, swam to the far end, and would have skidded to a halt if I’d been on dry lane. The swim team had moved over to my lane and were now – three abreast – swimming back towards me on kick boards. I did the sensible thing by swearing and then getting out of the pool.

I stalked back down towards the other end and the locker room – and noted that lanes 2 and 3 were now open. I didn’t know why, but Perfect!

I hit the water again, powered down to the end and back. And when I got back to the shallow end I was met by a lifeguard.

Who, apologetically, told me that these lanes were closed as well since a second swim team was coming in. But I could use lane one, if I wanted.

And that lane – where the swim class was still going on – now had 5 people trying to share half the lane.

I shook my head, hauled my ass and the rest of me out of the pool, and headed for the locker room. I got changed, went home, and went running in the rain to settle myself down.

On Tuesday, I tried again and this time – while there was still only one lane open – it was early enough that no one else doing lap swimming. I hit the water and swam like crazy – really enjoying the exertion. When the lifeguard asked if a woman could share the lane, I agreed wholeheartedly. We split the lane and I got in a good workout. And though she was initially wary of the deep end, she did make it down there and back – and I congratulated her.

Same pool, same water, same odd thing on the bottom of the pool that I hoped was a band-aid. But clearly, a different me.

Monday, I got pushed aside. Shunted around because I wasn’t important enough to warrant consideration. I wasn’t on the team so my use of the pool was secondary. I could go into the crowded lane with the rest of the casual swimmers because I clearly wasn’t serious enough about it. Or so it seemed.

Tuesday, I had a chance to share. I got to encourage a fellow swimmer and got in my laps as an equal in the pool. And I got out of the pool feeling good about what I had accomplished and better about my day.

What’s the take-away here? I guess that I don’t like being made to feel less than someone else. It makes me angry and resentful. And I flourish when I have the chance to share and encourage. Which, I dunno, sounds pretty much okay by me. Nobody likes being made to feel unimportant and we should all try to share more often. Hell, those are pre-school lessons.

I’m going to continue to work on my attitude and keep swimming. And maybe get fast enough again to keep up with the college kids.

Last Sunday and again today, Jim asked for my help with his photography project. The project is sort of a skewed version of Americana – or at least a view of it between Akron and Navarre.

We had been out to dinner with his Mom and I spotted a Thump sign in someone’s yard on the way back to her house. It was still early enough when we left that we were able to find the yard again and Jim had his camera with him. I parked off to the side and kept the engine running while he got out, set up the tripod, and lined up the shot.

A passing car turned around and then parked down another side street. I kept an eye on them while they – apparently – kept an eye on Jim. He finished up, pretending to take some pictures of geese to throw them off – then hopped in the car and we headed out.

Today, we were out again and when he took a picture of the mailboxes near a trailer park a guy came out and talked to him. I sat in the car and kept watch. Jim explained what he was doing and the guy was okay, but it was a little tense. Next, over to one of those small churches with a hand-lettered sign. While Jim was setting up, a woman came out to talk to him.

The talked for quite a while and Jim told me later she was the pastor and invited us both to church. He got the photos, promised to send her a copy, and we were on our way.

I’m not sure what I would have done if there had been any trouble, but I guess I was ready to hop out of the car and charge into the fray.  Hmmm… maybe I should bring my sword next time.  Nothing says, “I’m prepared to try to out-crazy you” like a guy with a sword.

——————–

This afternoon, I spent several hours working on a metal model of a Ferris wheel. It was a Christmas present from one of my friends and it was tiny. Super tin.  The gondolas were made up of three pieces – and sides were small enough to fit on my pinkie fingernail. I carefully removed the pieces from the framework, sorted and bent the metal according to the instructions, and reached the final step of putting the gondolas on the Ferris wheel when disaster struck.

One of the gondolas broke. I figured I could find another way to attach it, but as I added the other gondolas to the wheel the ones that were already in place fell out of the shape.

Tedium, I can handle. Tiny pieces, I can handle. Not great instructions, I can handle.

Poor design – nope.

I’d get one added and two more would fall out. The only way to fit the gondolas in place was to slightly pull the wheels apart – which would lead to the rest slipping loose.

In the end, with broken parts and frustrating design, I trashed it. It was an interesting project, but it stopped being remotely fun.  And if I’d finished it, I’m not sure what I would have done with it.

I’ve got a wooden puzzle of a skeleton that I’d like to try next – the metal one just wasn’t working for me.

————————–

So, frustrated with that model, I headed to my computer to play a little minecraft. I opened a portal to the Nether, traveled across the lava fields, and then opened another portal to the overworld. I ended up in a cave and started to tunnel my way up.

And then my tunnel flooded. I saw a light above me and tried to swim up to it, but I was apparently at the bottom of the ocean and drown before making it to the surface.

Frustrated, I turned the game off to go read a book.

It got me thinking, though, at how much I empathized with the character in the game.

I recently read an article about an experiment to see if the universe – our universe – is a simulation.

The idea comes from the uncertainty at the quantum level of reality. Things are… fuzzy down there and some scientists liken that to resolution/rending errors. Plus, things aren’t set until they are observed and that seems kinda funny too.

So, there’s an experiment to split a high power laser, slam the light through a bunch of prisms, and then put it back together. If the end result isn’t precise anymore, that means – according to the scientists – that space itself is distorted.

That the “pixels” of reality aren’t rending properly at that level and causing the distortion.

Huh.

So far, the results are inconclusive. I’m not sure what we’d do with that knowledge if it turned out that reality is a simulation.

My character in Minecaft isn’t aware that he isn’t real. He’s not aware of anything – as far as I can tell – but even if he was, how would he know he’s not real? The rules of his universe are consistent and would – for him – make sense. He wouldn’t have a way to know otherwise. And the actions that I control could very well be chalked up to his own thinking. How could know that his consciousness is made up of my keyboard and mouse?

So, I sit here at my computer.  Wondering.

I’ve had a thought sitting quietly in the back of my head for a while. Every so often, he looks up from the book he’s reading and asks if I’ve gone to see John Brown yet. I always had an excuse – bad weather, not enough time, already had plans, etc.     He nods and goes back to his book – not insisting, but not leaving either.

This morning, he looked up at me from his book and over his glasses. “Any excuses today?” he asked and I didn’t have any.

So, I got in my car and headed out. It had been a very long time since I’d been to the cemetery where John is buried and of the two routes I thought would take me there, I picked the wrong one first. I found a cemetery – but not the right cemetery.

Back on track and more driving. I found it, pulled in, parked my car, and tried to pull back that memory of where his grave was. It had been a very long time and it wasn’t where I thought.

I spent an hour methodically going through the Stow Cemetary and found:

7 people with the last name of Brown buried there.
4 fresh graves – which seemed sadder for some reason.
1 headstone that had been knocked over – but too heavy for me to right.

I was cold. The wind had picked up and the sky was overcast when I finally found his grave in section G.

I sat down and with a burst of tears that surprised me, I remembered.

—

I was in a fraternity when I was in college and John was one of the senior members. He was… well… kind of amazing. Tall, smart, good-hearted, and with a presence. And for all my efforts to be someone – anyone – I seemed to default to the background.

John had fought and beaten cancer when he was younger. People listened when he spoke and he had an easy smile.

I was intimidated by him. He seemed too good to be true, but he was somehow my friend and accepting of the astonishingly awkward person I was.

I was still involved with the fraternity after I graduated college and we were both alumni in the winter of 1996. On equal footing, perhaps, but I was still in awe of him.

I was visiting my family around the holidays when I got a call from one of my friends.  John had been killed in a car accident by a drunk driver. He, his girlfriend, and his nephew Max were killed instantly. He was buried next to his nephew – they had been close despite the age difference.

I got back in time for the funeral and tried to write something meaningful to say to the rest of our friends. I made a hack of it, but I tried.

John was the first person close to my age that I had known to pass away. I had lost grandparents and knew of other older people to have passed – but this was the first that wasn’t a long illness or after a full life.

He was my friend and he was suddenly gone.

—

I sat there for a moment – knowing that we wasn’t really there and that this was just a place – and spoke to him.

I apologized for not visiting in so long. I told him I’d been thinking about him and what he had meant to me all those years ago. And I thought, but couldn’t say, that I hoped he would have been happy with the person I turned out to be. A little more brave, a little more sure of myself, kind, and good-hearted.

I got back in my car and my Alana Davis CD started playing. By co-incidence, the next song was her cover of “The Reaper“.

I smiled.

I don’t really know what to believe about what happens to us when we die, but I can’t believe that the spark that makes us who we are can ever really go out. So, I hope that where-ever he is, that John is happy.

And that little voice in my head finally put down his book, nodded, and wandered off to where-ever our thoughts go when we don’t need them.

John Paul Brown 1968-1996

I went to visit my folks for Easter this past weekend and my sister and her family joined us. On Saturday, my nieces were out on their bikes. The oldest was just getting started riding without training wheels and it was awesome to watch her get more confident and learn about the mechanics of making her bike go. The younger was still on training wheels and she liked two things: having someone on foot follow right behind her and then slamming on the brakes. I got to help them out and my reflexes were fortunately up to the task. 🙂 Little kids are very random.

————–

We had some pizza and played a game of Name that Tune. My brother-in-law pitted my sister and I against each other as we tried to guess the songs on his phone on youtube. We were pretty evenly matched, until he played the pre-intro to an NSYNC video – and I guessed Bye Bye Bye in about 2 seconds. I was sort of pleased and a little bit horrified at my knowledge of boy bands from the early 2000’s. And I did pretty well with early Brittany Spears too.

One odd thing we noticed was that I was able to come up with the artist much more quickly than the song title in many cases. We figured that my internal database was sorted by the artist first -and whenever the artist popped into my head before the title I just said, “wrong column”.

It’s apparently a pretty big spreadsheet.

———————
On Sunday morning, the folks went to church. I stayed at their place and did a little origami – and also messed around with my phone. It looked like I had an outstanding balance way early and a late fee on top of that – but it turned out to be a credit on my account. Not very well indicated, Verizon.

I also needed to make sure that the premium visual voice-mail was canceled. It was a free trial that I inadvertently signed up for and never used because it seemed dumb and I don’t get many voice-mails. So, I popped open a chat window on the VZ website and asked about it.

And I got a very friendly, polite, and helpful response. It was unexpected – figured I’ve have to do battle to get an answer and to get it turned off. Instead, it was simple and a pleasant conversation. How odd that we are used to poor customer service – I’m looking at you, Time Warner Cable – and surprised when it actually works well.

Or maybe that’s just me.

————

After getting my phone account sorted, I got a call from Dad. Mom – who hadn’t been feeling great on Saturday – took a turn for the worse at church. She had been singing in the praise band on stage and got light-headed. She sat down and when Dad went to get her a cool cloth, she passed out. Fortunately, there were 3 nurses and 1 nursing student in the church that day and were on hand to help out. The brought her around quickly, but advised her to go to the hospital anyway. Turned out to be a bad reaction to some medicine she was on along with some dehydration. Still not 100%, but getting better.
———————–

Yesterday was a rough day at work. When I got home, I chilled out with some video games and a light dinner before going for groceries. While I was at the store, I dumped a bunch of change I had accumulated into the coinstar and got $20 for them in the form of an amazon code.

When I got home, I bought books.

And felt a little better.

Today was rough at work too and tomorrow promises to be worse in different ways. Think I’ll fire up the playstation a bit and make it an early night.

There’s not really ever a good reason to go to mcdonald’s. It’s not the quality of the food, certainly. It’s sort of the cost, though there are other equally inexpensive options out there. It’s maybe the speed, though that can be hit or miss.

There was the day recently, though, when time was of the essence and something approximating food was needed. So, we stopped at McDonald’s.

And it was a mistake.

As we walked in, there was a woman at the counter angrily berating the assistant manager.

[Wait, is there any other way to berate someone? Hmmm… I guess you could dispassionate berate someone, maybe?]

Anyway, this woman was angry. Not because there was something wrong with the food. Nor because she had been short-changed or physically assaulted by an employee.

No, it was because an employee had “disrespected” her.

Really.

Jim and I shared a look and immediately commiserated with the manager. While I get cranky with systems – and try to do something about those poorly designed systems (I’m looking at you, Books A Million, and I still don’t want your damn magazine subscriptions), I find it difficult to complain about people and try and get them in trouble. Isn’t the world already terrible enough?

So, this woman went on and on for a few minutes while the manager just stood there and took it. I couldn’t quite figure out the resolution – but it seems like that, having ruined someone’s day, the disrespected woman was content to leave.

Seriously, how low does your self-esteem have to be that you need to take out a perceived slight on a McDonald’s manager? I mean, really.

So, we got our mostly-food, ate quickly, and left with a sigh of relief.

—————————-

I’ve been playing a video game adaptation of the movie Tron: Legacy. And yes, I really should known better. Unless it’s Lego, movie adaptations as games never work.

But this should have been right up my alley. In fact, this should have been so far up my alley that it… ummm… I don’t know, that phrase kinda fell apart on me. Anyway, I should have been loving it. I mean, you know me, right? It’s FREAKING TRON!!!!

Except it’s not great.

Oh, the visuals are pretty enough- but they never really change. A room covered in neon blue is not that different from a room with neon green. So, it’s:

1. Run into a room, note the neon,  and the doors close behind you.
2. Fight all the bad guys in there for some reason – I’m not real clear on the plot
3. Doors open – exit.
4. Parkour your way to the next room.
5. Repeat.

And the parkour is terrible. Everything is neon. Including the edges of platforms and around the holes in the floor. So, a lot of:

1. Run.
2. Miss a jump because it’s just not clear where the edge is.
3. Plummet to your de-rezzing death.
4. Reload from checkpoint.
5. Repeat.

I’m getting a little better at the parkour and I’m learning the combat a little at a time.

But it’s just not much fun. I keep playing, though, in the hopes that it will suddenly BE fun.

Which means I really need to stop playing it. I’ve been in the blue neon city, then the green neon city, and now I’m supposed to head back to the blue neon city. And I don’t think that’s going to happen.

Sorry, programs, you’re on your own. This User has other games to play.
——————-

I had a blood donation appointment today after work and headed out a little early to get some food. I then headed over to the red cross building, got checked in by an ancient woman who was apparently a security guard.

Seriously? I think a good solid sneeze would have knocked her across the room.

Zipped through the history, my iron was amazing as usual, and answered the questions about not traveling to most of the planet or eating crazy cow beef.

Needle stick into a vein like a freeway.  They love my veins, I’m telling you.

Then, squeeze every 7 seconds and then cookies and juice.

Easy. I don’t know why more people don’t donate blood. Did I mention the cookies? FREE!

And they were super excited to get my O- blood. Seriously, go give blood. COOKIES!
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