Fools and Heroes

I will always have a cross to wear

But the bolt reminds me I was there

So give me strength

To face this test tonight

-Lene Nystrom

Recently I was reading about the Hero's Journey- kind of an archetypal concept, in which a person, the Hero, (again, an archetypal term) realizes through a series of changes and events their life's purpose, or goes on to do great things. I found this raising more questions than it answered- but here's the general outline of the journey-

First, we have the Hero's normal, conventional life. He grows up, to some greater or lesser extent, maybe has a job, just kind of accepts the morals and laws of his tribe (in whatever context that concept occurs) as true. In other words, just your average member of society. According to the book I was reading, sometimes people spend their whole lives here. Question number one- what do those people look like? And what is their perspective on this Hero? Is a Hero just someone who questions conventional wisdom? And for that matter, how do you define conventional wisdom? I read that this is not simply knee-jerk rebellion, going against the conventional solely because it is conventional. Rather, the Hero has different ideas than what the norm is because of a changing perspective- the individual kind of loses their sense of 'tribalization'- they begin to see a broader or different perspective. This is more a process of losing than gaining, as our Hero loses his cultural or tribal biases- perhaps deepening in understanding? The book goes on to describe a kind of trance state that people fall into- this was a little difficult to wrap your head around, but here goes- what we imagine is the 'real' world is just one set of filtered perceptions- there is often a lot more going on than is realized conventionally.

The next stage is that this Hero is challenged by some manner of crisis- it could be a life event, an existential or philosophical crisis, or even something as simple as meeting a new teacher or hearing of some new teaching. The Hero finds the conventional view of reality just doesn't cut it any more. At this point, the Hero can do one of two things- either accept his challenge, or go back into the trance state, in essence denying his calling (and where, exactly, does this calling come from?) It does, however, show limits and shortcomings of conventional thinking. To deny this is to pretty much miss out on a process of self-evolution. Do what you need to do, either way, I guess.

When the Hero accepts this calling, nebulous though it may be at first, he then undergoes training and discipline, either from a teacher, a path, or even from his own mind. A part of this calling is that the Hero's priorities and life goals change along with the changing of his understanding. This is ultimately an internal change- the Hero takes his newfound learning and understanding to heart.
Then we have the culmination of the Hero's quest- you could say, the Hero finds what he's looking for- you could call it enlightenment, understanding, union with the Absolute (nous in Hermeticism), or perhaps even salvation. The point being, the Hero comes to a point where he knows fully.

After this, the Hero returns and contributes to conventional society- the tribe he left way back when- except now he takes on the role of teacher, sage, or even generally eccentric nutjob. The point is, he returns from his quest and makes himself of service to those who have not yet reached his point of understanding. So then as the teacher, presumably the whole thing begins all over again- a new Hero, a new quest, with this now-enlightened Hero/teacher showing the way.

If this sounds familiar, it's really not a new story. Fairy tales, epics, even history itself is filled with this story in one form or another- hell, even Star Wars followed this format. The Ten Oxherding Pictures that come from the Chinese Zen schools also reflect this. But my question is- doesn't everyone go through this? And is it always that linear? Seems like people could be kind of taking two steps backward and three forward as they go through life. And what about the people who stay back in the tribe? Surely if this potential to be this kind of Hero exists in all of us, doesn't everyone, at some point or another, become a Hero? Maybe I'm having a hard time looking at this from the perspective of any life but my own.

I'm not sure exactly if this matches my own experiences, but a lot of it seems to fit. The world just didn't fit what I had believed about it for a long time. So in that case, I found myself unable to simply gloss over those differences, and had to come to a point of thinking for myself. That might sound egotistical- why should I, among all the people of this world, discover some profound truth? The answer is, actually, I'm not alone in that regard. There are countless other people who've been through the same process. And probably have done quite a bit better with it than I have, too. But ultimately I suppose it's both where you end up and how you get there. It's certainly been a process of learning. I'd guess at this point I'm still wandering around, eyes to the ground, following ox tracks, occasionally falling flat on my face as I trip over a tree root- but knowledge of the ox implies understanding of the goal. Do people really go through life never questioning? I'm not sure quite what to make of that. Either they're really lucky, or not so lucky. Had I simply remained 'back at the village', I would not have had all these bizarre adventures- but would I be happy? Or continually haunted by the suspicion that there was a vast unknown world out there? Actually, that used to be me, starting around junior high or so. Something would strike me, some phrase, symbol, word, or sight, and I would stop and try to connect it to something else- but no luck. I knew there was more to the world than met my immediate understanding, but as of then couldn't quite piece it all together- couldn't find the crack in the eggshell that would undo the whole thing and reveal the mystery. Now, many years later, I'm getting there. I don't know everything yet, (big surprise there) but at least I'm making progress.

Presented In Warpedvision For Your Viewing Pleasure

...but who? Or both of them? It's a long weekend away from work, not a lot shaking here in the boondocks. Like most weekends, I watched a couple movies, did laundry, and wished I was back in Connecticut. Well, except when I'm at the gas pump, ha ha. Today's cinematic opus was Necromentia- a newer film, caught it on cable. Has anyone seen this one? Was it just me, or did it make no sense whatsoever? Now, if you're looking for a film that proceeds in a linear fashion, has a coherent plot, and leaves you with some sense of the normal process of introduction, conflict, denouement and resolution, look elsewhere. This film was actually somewhat reminiscent of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, in that it portrayed more or less normal people in a surreal environment. In this case, it went a little deeper, that the people have a somewhat unusual idea of normal vs. not normal. Paying a professional torturer to carve you up is not unheard of in this world, nor is carving symbols into your body to bring back the dead. (I didn't get it either, but that's what was going on). So intentionally or not, this actually did take on an impressionistic, surreal quality that was either intentional, or the director had no idea what he was doing. Peter Steele, formerly of Type O Negative, put it best- don't mistake lack of talent for genius.

Speaking of genius, the kitchen sink is still backed up. There's some underlying problem deep in the depths of this apartment's plumbing, as the dishwasher was, prior to this, running backwards into the sink. Now the dishwasher doesn't drain into the sink, but neither does the sink drain. Drain opener and plunging seems ineffective- a mystery, to be sure. If it was a cracked or broken pipe, we would probably have water all over the floor, not stuck in the pipes. It's not a clog anywhere close by, else the drain cleaner or the plunger would probably have worked to open it up. Then again, not exactly my area of expertise. For a little while, we thought about breaking lease and moving to a nearby complex, as repairs are getting to be few and far between here. (In case that wasn't obvious already). Well, there is a developing mold problem, which actually does allow us to break lease without incurring the charges for the remaining lease's rent. Of course, neither of us are really in that much of a hurry to move, we'd rather just have management live up to their end of the contract and fix the stupid problem already. I'd rather see an easy answer to this problem (like many areas of life), but come on guys, we kind of need to get the ball rolling here.
Well, the mold is so far confined to the kitchen, so is not a pervasive problem. I've heard it can have a very bad effect on some people, or just people in general. It's going to, sadly, cost the apartment management a hefty chunk of change if they don't get to work on it. Preventive measures are usually the best measures.
Well, that's about all the news from here. I hope everyone out there is enjoying the long weekend, and having a good time doing whatever it is that you're doing! Stay well everyone.

This Town Is Just A...

Randomly humorous stuff, at least I thought it was funny- well, it's Friday, I figured we could use a little levity. Especially around here- I think this town has been weighing a bit on me lately. It seems Lawton is everything that's wrong with military towns. True, all military towns, like all military posts, look the same. Actually, some military posts are actually very nice. Fort Sill is a comparatively smaller post, at least in terms of housing areas and community. This is probably due to the fact that most of the area is devoted to artillery, which requires a fairly large impact area, and when there's large heavy inert or explosive things falling from the sky, obviously you can't have people wandering around there. Though this does not actually dissuade people from going out there in a truck, a southern practice known as 'muddin'. Often muddin' is the preferred route to get to a fishing or hunting area off the beaten path. This makes perfect sense to me. Driving through an area with big signs that say 'artillery impact area'- not so much. Well, on the upside you might not have to actually shoot the deer. Or butcher it, or worry about how you're going to get ground venison out of the deer, for that matter.

But this is largely beside the point. Fort Sill is a smaller post, and does have a strong bond among families of service members stationed there. This is true for the surrounding area too, everyone kind of knows everyone in the unit. There are the occasional catfights between Army wives, though I'm afraid that would indicate that the majority of military wives are catty and dramatic- actually they're just like everyone else, kind of a mixed bag of people. Lawton itself, however, is a shining example of poor civic planning. Without the post, this place would just about literally vanish off the map. There is no other industry to speak of, and the local civic leaders do nothing at all to foster a sense of community. Basically, Lawton is the ghetto of Fort Sill. If Fort Sill was, say, Philadelphia, Lawton would be the South Side. Lawton excels in the area of pawn shops, loan sharking and bars, however. Most of the social traffic finds its way to Oklahoma City during the weekends, as there is very little going on around Lawton in the public sense. People will generally congregate at a house, or the barracks. Add to this the fact that the town does very little beyond keeping the roads at a bare minimum of workability, provides no real jobs to speak of, and no incentives at all to attract new businesses, and you've got a ghost town in the making when and if the post ever closes. I tend to think the mentality of the town is that they don't really need to do anything- the post provides sufficient revenue to keep everyone in their municipal jobs, and inertia takes care of the rest. Surrounding the more or less center of town is ranch land or farm land, and beyond that, more of the same in the nearby towns. This, of course, is a good use for the wide-open areas around here, just don't stop and pet the buffalo. I suppose beyond the town center it's kind of a catch-22, that the ranching that goes on there actually does require a good deal of land for grazing animals, so developing it would be a mistake.

In other news, looks like Westboro Baptist Church made the news again. I doubt the veracity of that name, seeing as they are not Baptist by any stretch of the imagination, though I suppose the term Church can apply to any group with a religious nature, no matter how monumentally stupid they are. This time around it's the recent razing of Joplin, Missouri by a tornado. The death toll is placed at 125 people, and in rolls the few, the proud, the hate mongers. There are actually very few people in this church, primarily immediate family members. Interestingly, this is a fairly valid argument against evolution... At any rate,. apparently God sent this tornado because the US is supportive of homosexuality. It's not a very well-defined concept here- who does the supporting, and in what way that's done are not entirely clear. But apparently God decides to toss out a random disaster now and again just to remind his faithful followers of something- again, not entirely clear. Well, I don't think I need to recap what this particular organization gains media notoriety for- here's what interests me: the fact that they do gain media notoriety. Is it really breaking news that a bunch of mentally unbalanced people go to wave signs proclaiming their hate for the world at large? The people at Westboro seem to me, first and foremost, to be vulgar in the extreme. I dislike vulgarity in any form. Though I'm known to utter the occasional cuss word, there's usually a reason for it, usually because I'm either falling off of something, getting hit with something, or getting injured in some way. (These things happen more often than you might think- those who know me well, maybe not more often than you might think). Yet this is seeming to be deliberately vile and disgusting. To what end, I wonder? The media attention? I can see why this is- putting these people on the air or in print does nothing to justify them or make them look legitimate- what it does do is give us someone to hate- part freak show, part pariah, part outlet, the coverage depicts these people just as deranged as they are in real life, if not more so. Web stories generate a flurry of comments, but one struck me- to paraphrase, it said simply, why is this news? Who are these jokers, and why are they in the news? Who cares? It's pretty well established that they go out, wave signs and make themselves look like fools, apparently reveling in the angry reactions they produce from people. In this light, this looks like nothing more than a desperate cry for attention. Which, unfortunately, it seems they get in spades. Now, there are people who go out and show their support for the same things that these people protest, though they don't really seem to have a clear message of protest- the funerals of soldiers (the last I heard, they can no longer do this), natural disasters and tragedies. Many people come out to show their support and sympathy for others, which is often a selfless act. Contrast this with the selfish, attention-grabbing, trying-to-get-a-rise that we see from these people.
My thoughts on this are- ignore them. They hide behind the law, which does indeed grant them freedom of speech and expression. This is one of the reasons why they must stay a distance from military funerals, however- they cannot interfere with the rights of the family to have their loved one buried with respect and dignity. Yet neither can they be interfered with. It seems to me that to even acknowledge anything other than their right to be there is to sink to their level. Do you talk to the cockroaches in the dumpster, telling them to stay out of your house, trying to reason with them and explain why they shouldn't go into your house? The same thing applies here. Personally, I tend to ignore bugs, except if they are in the house. Well, about the only thing here are spiders, who like to get inside. I let them out, because that's where all the bugs are- not in the house, and the fact that there are spiders outside seem to contribute to the absence of bugs. But these people are little more than cockroaches- not that this is a character judgement, their actions and choices define them as such. Why waste your time chasing them around, when it's easier just to ignore them, let them spew filth, and look like nothing more than what they seem to be? Why look for ugliness in the world, when there is beauty here as well?

The Steam Queen

The week has finally drawn to a close, which is good. I have a long weekend, and nothing much to do with it. This is probably a good thing. This morning I was out on mission, delivering food and supplies for the last time this week. Soon a lot of my platoon is leaving, too. They're going to a different section to deploy. Probably one of the toughest things about serving in the military is having to say goodbye to friends, knowing full well that there's a possibility they won't come back. Hopefully all will be well with them.

But today on mission, I managed to fall off a water trailer. How, you ask, do I do this? It's not easy. The trailer has two wheels, and a third strut at the pintle, where it hooks to the truck. This strut can swing upwards when the trailer is ready to move- the rest of the time, you set it down so the trailer sits level on the ground. This strut had gotten stuck somehow- actually it was stuck in its upwards position,. and we needed to move it back down so we could reposition it- the strut's mechanism was pretty well jammed, so we needed to loosen it up. It fell to me to stand on the front of the trailer and kind of kick the strut downwards. This actually went pretty well, all things considered- the strut went down, then we got it back up. I was still standing on the trailer- we were also simultaneously draining excess water out of the tank, making the ground very wet and muddy. The easiest thing, I decided, was to simply step backwards off of the trailer onto the ground- it wasn't that high up, and I could jump the distance. The problem is that there was an air hose coupling holder right behind my heel. The trailer has air brake lines. and with that, air supply hoses. The hoses have connectors on the ends of them that hook onto the truck's air outlets, and these supply the trailer with compressed air for the brake. When these lines aren't connected, (which we usually don't bother with anyway) the lines fit into a pair of blocks on the front of the trailer that will hold the couplers. This same coupler was, of course, just the right height to catch a boot heel. So I managed to catch a heel in one of these and fall backwards off of the trailer, flat onto my back, into the mud. Mud, I discovered, is slippery. So off I went, hitting the ground at enough of an angle to slide about 10 feet or so before coming to a stop. I got up, covered in mud, and more or less unhurt. Now I have to admit- that was funny as hell. Even if I had broken something, I would definitely still be laughing at it.

Of course, as the day went on, I began to notice a dull pain in the hip that I landed on- I didn't think much of it, and still don't. I can walk well enough, and will wait a couple days and see if it gets better, like it probably will. I suspect it's just sore from the impact, probably not serious at all. And besides, it was quite the pratfall, and provided everyone with a laugh- including me.

So at this point, I'm still recovering, again hoping it's not that serious- and it's probably not. But I have had weird recurring dreams about a figure called the Steam Queen. This requires a good deal of explanation. In this dream-world, steam power is the main source of energy. This theme has been pretty much done to death by the sci-fi genre- quite possibly why I have it in my head. But here power and energy take on aristocratic and near-religious overtones- the Steam Queen is a kind of figurehead and symbol, representing mankind's mastery of power, and in this way their superiority over the universe. The Steam Queen is kind of a cross between Miss America and Queen Elizabeth, used mainly for parades and functions. She wears an elaborate mechanical suit, including a kind of gas-mask like apparatus, apparently to hide her face. There is no one Steam Queen, but rather it's an office, occupied by any number of women over time. In her full symbolic capacity, she sits on a mechanical throne and holds instead of a scepter, a large wrench, and wears a kind of royal robe with leather gauntlets. It's kind of hard to describe, one of the weirder things I've dreamed of, yet seems strangely consistent from dream to dream. Usually in these dreams I'm one of the people watching the procession or processions the Queen is involved in, and can recall at one point her removing her face mask, (it's mechanical as well, and opens down the middle) to reveal a brunette woman, probably in her late 30s or early 40s, with an open and kind face, yet with a note of command in her voice. So what does all this mean? Absolutely nothing, as near as I can figure. It's just a dream of another place, real or not. But still, as always it's important to be able to kind of escape to an imaginary world that's a little less dreary than the real one once in a while. Not live there, of course- generally that means mental illness or delusion. But still, it's kind of cool to wake up in the morning feeling like your world is a little brighter because of the bizarre yet enjoyable things you imagine. Besides, all great ideas began as imagination. I was surprised to find there's a book by the same title out there, written by Jack Hessey. I haven't read it, but from the description, it sounds interesting. Much like my own world, steam power is the main source of energy in this world, where locomotives are the main means of transportation. My world differed on this point- vehicles are largely based around the same ideas as our gas-powered cars and trucks, usually using hydrogen gas as a heat source. In Hessey's world, there is no real centralized Europe (the book, I hear, takes place in Europe), where those who have locomotives, weapons and/or money pretty much call the shots. It's an interesting idea, and the book looks really good. If I can track down a copy, I'll be sure to read it. Of course, the only real similarities here are the name, and the fact that steam power is the main source of energy. But anyway, funny how a coincidence like that can lead you to find something new.

Far Afield

I've seen you

Fire up the gas in the engine valves

I've seen your hand turn saintly on the radio dial

I've seen the airwaves

Pull your eyes towards heaven

Outside Topeka in the phone lines

Her good teeth smile was winding down

- Mike Doughty, True Dreams of Wichita

It's Tuesday morning, and I don't have anywhere to be until later this afternoon. I got up, did PT, and now have some down time until this afternoon/evening's mission. We're running food, water and fuel out to a unit in the field. This is a lot of work, but the hours go by fairly quickly because we're always busy running around and getting stuff done. Life is good like that sometimes.

While not exactly a formal protest, this does get me out of what's called a safety standdown. They are pretty much useless, but we have to do them anyway. Here's the basic concept- let's say a soldier in the maintenance division goes out one Saturday night, has a few too many drinks, and gets a DUI. Now, this is bad judgement on an epic scale, and depending on the severity of the situation, this soldier may wind up in varying depths of deep shit. More than likely if you wind up in jail and need your commander to come get you out, well, you'll be there for a while. Of course, drinking and driving is not such a good idea anyway. The simple solution to this is- have a plan when you go out. There are always ways around trying to drive home drunk, like don't get drunk in the first place. Or have a designated driver, or someone you can call. Of course, if you puke in my car, I'm going to tie your throat in a knot, but hey, at least you get a ride home.

But at any rate, the point is this- if one soldier does something stupid and gets in trouble for it, we have one of these safety standdowns. It means either we give up our down time, get dragged into work and sit through classes telling us to not do what we didn't do in the first place. Don't drink and drive, don't do drugs, etc. So pretty much someone else screwed us by doing the wrong thing. Now I think I speak for everyone when I say if I had known this person was thinking of doing something that stupid, I would be ringing the phone off the hook (or whatever the equivalent is for a cell phone) asking where they were, and hauling ass out there to pick them up, perhaps bringing someone else along to drive this inebriated friend's car back to where it needs to go. And in this way, we all live happily ever after, and our inebriated friend wakes up inexplicably duct-taped to the wall in the morning. Of course, we do try to watch out for each other, and let our platoon mates know what's on tap for the weekend- around here, generally not a darn thing. But at least they know where we are, and we have some plan in place to keep ourselves out of trouble. I'm proud to say I'm a designated driver, because people know whatever other weird stuff I'm doing, drinking isn't a part of it.

So despite this person probably losing rank and spending a night or so in the county's exclusive resort, we all get screwed for something we can say we had no idea about. Last time I checked, you have to be a legal adult to enlist in the Army, and generally should not need someone to babysit you. You make a bad decision, you have no choice but to accept the consequences of that decision. This whole safety standdown has a great deal less to do with any benefit to the unit than making the chain of command look good. That may sound cynical, but if it does, spend some time in the Army, and you'll find that this is the case. Not that this matters today- obviously, getting supplies to those that need them will take priority. And even if the chain of command says differently, I'll disagree.

This whole thing put me in mind of my own drinking problem, and where that stands today. I don't drink, not because I'm afraid of alcohol or think I can't control it, but simply because it doesn't interest me very much. I don't go hang out at the local watering hole for largely the same reason- I'm not interested in taking anyone home unless I'm the designated driver- you get what I mean. There are more important things in life. I once heard from a rehab counselor (yep, been there done that) that alcohol can produce a reaction in some people very similar to an allergy. Whereas most people drink, get a buzz on, and call it a night, or get completely falling down drunk, then call it a night, the main reason they keep drinking is because judgement is the first thing to go. Other people drink, and feel the compulsion to keep drinking due to the neurochemical reaction it produces, not unlike heroin, which produces such a strong reaction it becomes addictive after the first usage. It's an interesting idea, to be sure. It would seem that then in this case, the Alcoholics Anonymous model is true- alcoholism is in fact a disease, with symptoms. But if it's an allergy, well, the simple solution is avoid the allergen. I never was really comfortable with the AA model, as I always felt it defined us by our shortcomings. And how, if it's something we have no control over, are we even remotely responsible for our own actions? We need to rely on some higher power (I say some because that's a personal decision made by people in AA, exactly who their higher power is). From my own limited knowledge of the gods, they will provide guidance and insight, not do it for you. It's rather like having a snowplow on your truck but paying someone to come shovel your driveway. The gods will generally say, you have the resources, why don't you do it yourself? Here's how it works, so go try it yourself! I always found things a bit simpler- if your drinking is a problem, don't drink as much, or don't drink at all if you have trouble controlling it. Don't judge yourself and beat yourself up over not being able to have 'just a couple', I don't know how to fly an airplane or build a steam engine- nobody's perfect. It's our strengths and abilities that make us who we are, not what we can't do. And sometimes a recognition of those things we can't do can bring us to a point of new abilities and learning. Maybe not so much with alcohol abuse, but say I wanted to build a steam engine. I know the basic mechanism of such a thing, but actually building one is beyond me- there are all manner of moving parts, pressures and mechanisms I would need to find out about before I'm able to actually build an engine. Perhaps in the case of alcohol abuse it was a question of finding out the mechanism of addiction- because alcohol for someone like me is indeed addictive. Not that I can never drink again, I just need to be really careful that one drink doesn't turn into twenty. Given my limited time and mental energy, this seems to me like a whole lot more effort than it's worth, so I just say screw it, I'll drink a Pepsi and call it good. Mainly because despite the fact that it has a truckload of sugar in it, I like Pepsi. People say, well, Coke has less sugar in it, you should drink that. Look, if I was concerned about how much sugar I was taking in from a drink, I'd go drink water or tea, or something without any sugar in it. Needless to say, I don't drink Pepsi very often. It's good once in a while though.
But anyway, that's a little off topic, as usual. The point being, it's not so much "I need to define my life in terms of alcohol" as it is "This is a pain in the ass that I can avoid, so I'm pretty sure I can find some more enjoyable way to spend an evening". I know AA has helped a lot of people, but there are those of us out there who just put the bottle down and walked away. It's not for everyone, but then, life is to a large extent about finding what works for you.

The Rapture Is Coming, Bring An Umbrella

Hello everyone still on Earth, and possibly people not on Earth! I'm not sure, the Rapture was either last night or is today at noon-ish. So what does that mean? More than likely nothing, but here's the party line- all the righteous people get removed bodily from the Earth and go hang out up in the sky, heaven or some similar locale (never been entirely clear on this) while below the remaining populace does Jager shots with the Antichrist. I'm not sure about that last part, it seems probable enough though. I guess by virtue of being righteous, they get to avoid some long period of generally not-fun stuff. The Rapture may well have occurred, I don't think I would notice the difference between that and pretty much every day here anyway.

But at any rate, if you're up there in the sky and you get wireless internet, I'll try and keep you guys up to speed on developments on the down side. So far, we have multiple political and celebrity figures who could be identified as the Antichrist, however I'm guessing the Antichrist would need to be capable of outsmarting your average pigeon, so I'm thinking he's more of a behind-the-scenes type of guy, pulling strings from the shadows.

Anyway, apart from that, we've got some major looting and destruction scheduled for when after the Rapture occurs, so if you righteous guys have anything important, you might want to toss it in a backpack and keep it with you. On the other hand, I for one promise not to make off with your social security number or steal your identity or anything. No doubt credit scores will follow you into the afterlife- what the hell, they seem to govern everything else about your existence, and that's a hassle none of us need. You'll probably need some time to get adjusted to living in the sky anyway, so we can try and make the transition as painless as possible. But if you decide to throw stuff at us down below, remember I have access to big guns, and I'm a really good shot. I'll be shooting from directly below you- use your imagination.

Personally, I'm quite happy here on good old terra firma. It's been my home for the last 32 years, and I'm really in no hurry to leave. Besides, from what I hear the real action's going to be down here, not up in Heaven. There's the old adage of 'rather reign in Hell than serve in Heaven'. I've always heard it expressed like reigning in Hell is a bad thing! Actually, I would take the option of reigning in Hell with a clear conscience and no little annoying voice saying 'you sold out to avoid suffering' or something to that effect than to be in Heaven. Now you tell me- does sticking to your principles in the face of opposition make you righteous? Does it make one worthy of this God, even when I would not bow to serve him if I could not do so whole-heartedly? The story also goes that Lucifer, God's go-to guy for a while, would not serve God because he (Lucifer) wanted the top spot. Well, this makes Lucifer either incredibly moral or incredibly stupid. I say moral because he could (I assume, not being in on the inner workings of the angelic psyche) just have choked back his pride, or perhaps knowledge that things could be better, and served God. Instead, he stuck by the principles he believed to be right, to the point of being kicked out of Heaven and cast into Hell. I've always found that really admirable- again, reign in Hell rather than serve in Heaven. But why not serve in Heaven? Because that strong a conviction would turn Heaven to Hell for him. He would never be free of doubt, and perhaps eventually it would consume him.
Now if God is a god of love, infinite in mercy and compassion, wouldn't he have let Lucifer go, maybe thrown a retirement party and given him a gold watch? Experience teaches me that if you love someone, you can let them go. To be truly in love with someone, you have to be able to let them go. Not that you necessarily should let them go, but you have to be able to. So the story of Lucifer goes on to say he recruited a whole bunch of like-minded angels, who perhaps were feeling those same nagging doubts, and went to war against the remaining angels. You'd figure God would just let them go and save the trouble of warfare, but no. Looks like good old God's ego got in the way again. What would have been the outcome of such a war, anyway? If Lucifer had won, would he have taken over the position of God? I didn't know the office was open. And if God is all-powerful, why is Lucifer even challenging him? Wouldn't he just wave a hand, or whatever the equivalent of that is, and extinguish all these pesky rebellious angels? Or just change their minds, put them back in line and get on with whatever it is they do all day? No, God wanted vengeance, it would seem. So Lucifer gets the boot, and now hangs out in Hell for all eternity, presumably holding a grudge bigger than Dallas.
Well, you know, this Lucifer sounds like a pretty with-it guy, so I'm thinking he probably just picked up the pieces and moved on with life. I'm assuming the story is true, something I don't really think, but here's the likely explanation given those conditions:

Lucifer had strong convictions, we know that already. He didn't agree with the way God was running things, so he decided to try and improve the situation. It didn't go so well with the war in Heaven, but he did get his own place, and set up a second organization. Now one of two things happens- our benevolent, infinitely merciful God beat the pants off of him and sent him to a place of eternal torment. (see previous- benevolent, infinite mercy...), Or Lucifer just said hell with it, so to speak, I'm just going to do things my way. Perhaps there are other people, angels and so on out there with that same independent streak. Well, we've got some prime real estate down here, and these guys obviously won't be welcome in Heaven. So seeing as I'm a big powerful archangel, why don't I set up a little reception for them? They can't go to Heaven for the same reason I can't- because they won't bow to serve a power they don't believe in. Let's set it up so they have some place to go, and if God is really that pissed, and can hold a grudge for that long, well, at least I'll do what I can to mitigate the suffering of the truly righteous. So Hell is established, God is in Heaven, and a great deal of us go to Hell either through our own willing design or just by getting caught in the mix.
I could be wrong, but it seems to me the only place in this model for a truly free thinker is Hell, not Heaven. The Bible talks about suffering for one's conviction- Matthew 5:11 says, "Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me." But perhaps the door swings both ways- personally, I have a live-and-let-live relationship with the Christians I know- I don't tell you what I think unless you ask me, and if you do ask me, I always approach the subject with respect and understanding, and we get along fine. But that's another story, friends, neighbors and fellow sinners.
So be nice to people of all religions and all backgrounds, the simple facts of the matter are we don't have enough concrete evidence to make any conclusions- speculation and reason are about the only tools we have for this particular job. Stay well, and don't drink the Tenafly Viper.

Rolling Deep In Tornado Alley

Last night was a tornado watch- this differs from a tornado warning in that it's much more likely that there's going to be some serious stuff going down, so don't go running around in the rain if you don't have to. (You'd be surprised how many reasons you can find for needing to be out in the storm, if you really like storms). There was indeed a very impressive thunderstorm, with some pretty high winds, but little to no actual damage to anything. I'd say we got lucky, as we haven't really had any major tornado damage around here for quite a while. The picture on the left is there because I figured, credit where credit is due!

Yesterday we worked away under glowering skies, later to give rise to the storm that night. But we managed to get almost everything done that day, leaving only a few pieces of equipment to turn in. We no longer need them, as we will no longer be using the trucks that use the equipment, so we needed to turn them in to our logistics department. From there, I assume serviceable vehicles are either sold, disposed of or stripped for parts. Non serviceable vehicles, I think, just get recycled. So off we went, moving our big trucks and trailers. The trailers and trucks are about the same length, which is long. The chassis design of both of these mean significantly higher hauling capacity than they would otherwise have, The downside to this is that the design of both means they require a lot of room to turn. Jackknifing, which is where a sharp angle is formed between the truck and trailer, is not an option. You have a little more leeway with a semi and trailer than with these trucks, mainly because the trucks we have use a drawbar system. As the name suggests, it has a bar that couples to the truck and pulls the trailer along. Again, Radio Flyer time. This drawbar can and will shear off if you jackknife the truck too much- I wouldn't believe that either, save that I've actually seen and heard it happen. So the point being, we have a vehicle system that needs a lot of room to turn. No problem, we say. We generally factor this in to our driving and route strategies- it may be more out of the way, but actually is quicker because we know we can fit the truck through where it needs to go. Unfortunately, our friends at the logistics department don't seem to know that. We had a tricky parking job to do with one of the trailers- take a sharp left turn into a narrow alley with parked vehicles on one side and a building on the right, and drive down that alley, taking a right at the far opening and backing the trailer into a parking spot. Okay, I thought. How about this-we forgo this alley altogether, go down around the far side of the building, use that little open area there to turn the truck around, back the trailer in and drop it in the same spot? Mainly because there's no way in hell the truck and trailer are going to fit down that left turn. Maybe the truck alone, but not with double the length, like we have now. So of course, despite my protestations, the driver jackknifed the trailer into the turn. The sound you may have heard was my hand hitting my forehead. At any rate, we finally managed to get the trailer dropped, and moved the truck around the building (where I wanted to send it in the first place), back down the alley to pick up the trailer and park it. So the moral of the story is, listen to me, I know what I'm talking about. And if I don't, that's ok, at least I'll make it sound like I do, and will stick by a course of action that makes sense to me- though I'll be the first to admit I'm wrong when someone proves their idea is better. If nothing else, that's a useful conviction to have- so I learned something in the Army after all, I think.

Revenge of the Phoenix Part 10- The Damnation Army

Wednesday is drawing to a close, another day done in this long week. There's not much new going on here, just another day in the life. Things are okay here, as usual. Nothing much to report, just burning off stress going to the gym, keeping busy at work. The project lately has been to move trucks and truck equipment that's going to get replaced or removed from our books- I'm not sure which, the point is we need to get rid of them by tomorrow, so we'll be doing a lot of running around, no doubt.

I managed to catch the movie Constantine, which was an okay movie. Turns out the John Constantine in the movie is based (very loosely) on the main character of the same name of the Hellblazer comic books. Played by Keanu Reeves, it's just not the same in the movie. The comic-book Constantine lacks the moral compulsions of the film Constantine, and frankly the comic book Constantine makes for a more interesting, character. The character of John Constantine is a sorcerer by trade, and by all accounts a pretty good one. He exists in a Judeo-Christian world where he pretty much serves only his own interests, all too easy when the powers of heaven and hell are too busy fighting each other and themselves to do anyone much good. Constantine is also an adrenaline addict, and this fuels many of his bizarre pursuits- which is convenient, as he has a knack for sorcery and demonology. At one point he puts all of Hell in an uproar, as he manages to outwit about three different major demons. He manages to sell his soul to three different demons- presumably contracts in Hell operate a little differently, and are not invalidated by a prior existing contract. Rather, they are for services provided- in exchange for one's soul the demon agrees to whatever terms the person is selling it on. So Constantine reaps the benefit of these three contracts, leaving three liens on his soul. Of course, there are now three demons looking to collect. Constantine takes advantage of this fact with the knowledge that one of two things will happen- either all three demons form an alliance, in which case he's seriously screwed, as the demons are familiar with the name of John Constantine, and have stretched their not-inconsiderable imaginations to come up with a VIP treatment for his eternal torment. Or, a war will break out between the three factions, the end of which can only be Constantine's salvation, as God will intervene and take his soul. How Constantine knows this isn't really clear, but he seems to have reasoned it out pretty well. So the demons determine that Constantine cannot die yet until they come to some kind of resolution. That resolution is not forthcoming, as apparently Hell is a hotbed for office politics. He's also a chronic smoker, and at one point in his 30s develops terminal cancer. Of course, Constantine can't die., at least not yet, so the demons have no choice but to cure his cancer. In case you hadn't guessed, Constantine is a con man of the highest order, and has no scruples about exploiting people or demons whenever it suits him. Kids, don't try this at home- demons generally don't give a wet slap about humans, unless you catch their attention, which you almost always have to go out of the way to do. They generally ignore people, and don't like to be bothered with our petty requests. In actuality, whatever demons are, they aren't really anywhere near as concerned with people as the Church would have us believe. But in Constantine's world, demons are very much concerned with getting their hands on human souls. God seems to be conspicuously absent or silent, which is interesting. He seems to be just as egotistical as the demons, which I always thought was a pretty accurate, if not entirely kind, portrayal of the Judeo-Christian concept of God. Since Constantine has attracted the negative attention of so many demons, his friends tend to wind up dead with disturbing regularity. This fact deeply affects his mental state, and perhaps explains his exploitative and cynical disposition towards the world around him. In the movie, Constantine is portrayed as an exorcist of sorts, battling demons yet not the least bit interested in working for the 'good guys'. Well, they got it half right. Constantine can control demons, either that or trick them, although he does this not out of a sense of justice or human kindness, but rather because it benefits him. As a result, he's a bit of a loner, frightened of forming lasting relationships as he fears they'll end in yet another heartbreak.

But at any rate, I kind of admire this guy. I can't speak to his moral compass too much, but given the conditions his world operates under, I think he's really doing well to play both sides of the field. No one likes him because of that, and he knows it. He has enemies in both heaven and hell, and eventually the balance will tip one way or the other for him. But we can hope that he'll figure out some solution to the situation- if I was in charge of Hell, I'd offer him a job in the think tank, take over Heaven, and call it a good day. Obviously he's not going to find peace in either side of the afterlife, so he tries to make the best of it.

Not that I condone exploiting spirits, it's probably not such a good idea, and will more than likely lead to trouble. However, Constantine is a kind of odd hero, as he doesn't exploit any one who doesn't either deserve it or is dumb enough to believe his con-man spiel. I think the reason I admire him is his independence- with the kinds of weird-ass powers he has, working for either side would be a shoo-in. But he has seen too many good friends die, and blames the demons, while he finds that heaven did not intervene. Again, keep in mind his world operates under different rules than ours- it seems karma can be bypassed by an act of God, who chooses to remain silent throughout. It brings us back to Epicurus' old argument-

Is God willing to prevent evil, but unable?
Then he is not omnipotent.

Is he able but not willing?

Then he is malevolent.

Is he both able and willing?

Then whence cometh evil?

Is he neither able nor willing?

Then why call him God?

The answer to this is free will and karma, I find. We have the freedom to act- we have the resources to foresee the consequences of our actions. How God is bound by these laws of cause and effect is not clear. Yet it seems that in order to have a created universe in the first place, whatever God or gods there are would by necessity be bound by them. Does this mean that the gods are not omnipotent? Perhaps they assist us, they guide and teach us, we grow in wisdom and learning to become like them- but they are bound by the same laws that we are.

But again, Constantine's world does not operate according to this principle. Laws are not absolute, contracts can be broken and made again. His world has a very Epicurean God. So it makes perfect sense that Constantine is the way he is. The fact that he is named after the first Christian emperor of the Roman empire, and one of history's main driving forces behind the spread of Christianity, is not lost on me.

So what does this have to do with real life? Well, perhaps nothing. Sometimes real life is mirrored in art, and this seems to be one of those cases. If John Constantine has one lesson to impart to the world, I would say it's this- use the resources you were given. If there is some final judgement, it won't be a question of what you believe in- rather, it's a question of what did you do with the gifts you were given? How has the world changed as a result of your actions in it? No one expects perfection- but that's no reason not to try.

Revenge of The Phoenix Part 9- The Chicken Run Blast-O-Rama

It's turning out to be a pretty crappy week. Luckily, there's the gym. More specifically, there's me in the gym. This helps to keep me sane, in a relative sense. It looks like another PT test tomorrow, mainly to make my bosses look good. A surprising amount of time (and taxpayer dollars...) are directed solely towards this end. Well, did it last week, I'll do it again this week. I've been working out with my platoon sergeant lately, who is more completely nuts than I could ever hope to me. Again, with the P90X whatever-you-call-it. Very fun though. It's an interesting approach to strength training, and really breaks up the routine! I would usually go for a run on the treadmill, or just do regular old weight lifting. This kind of combines both (not at the same time, that would get a bit dangerous), with good results, and gets you good and worn out.

This is useful because of what the Army Times recently put as a headline- officers are the main reason NCOs are going the non-reenlistment route. Interesting, though not exactly news to those of us in the green. Now, don't get me wrong. There are excellent officers in every unit in the Army, and there are not so good ones. The distinction seems to be in the CYA department. Cover Your Ass, for those who don't get the reference. Unfortunately, this sometimes becomes a full-time job.This seems to happen between the time an officer gets their railroad tracks (Captain) and goes up through Major or so- beyond that, it seems to be that the officer becomes the person whom other officers are attempting to CTA for. At this upper level (say, Major and above) we find that these are the guys giving the orders, not following them. And my experience has been those orders are generally good ones. It's down below that you find the occasional career-minded... person who is a little too ambitious in the sense that they put looking good ahead of say, actual concerns about the soldiers. It's true, Privates do get the shit jobs (I was there, guys, and I feel your pain), and us Corporals/Specialists do kind of delegate them out, but I for one don't like foisting all my workload off on someone solely because they under-rank me. Because I don't like them, well, that's another matter. But seriously, perhaps a part of the problem is that officers are, well, officers. They don't really spend much time down in the dirt, so to speak. That's not a criticism, it's simply not what they're there to do. However, that does not make them the aristocracy some of them seem to think they are. I know whatever job you work in, you'll find people who are your superiors that don't know their fourth point of contact from an artillery round, but I think the Army climate tends to foster them. And again, I feel obligated to point out that should you wish to become a commissioned officer in the Army (as opposed to an NCO, non-commissioned officer), go for it, we need more good officers. Well, of course the Army's 'downsizing', so good luck. I for one am finding it hard to believe that the situation is as dire as they'd have us think. This week has been kind of a witch hunt (pun, for once, not intended) to make sure everyone's doing a good job. So of course all of us have to go see the company commander and get talked to. Telling the company commander what I really think is, unfortunately, not a privilege in keeping with my rank. But writing it is! I think they're going about it rather in the same way one would cut off a foot to save on the cost of shoes. But what do I know, I'm just an E-4. No one has to salute me.

In other news, took a look under the hood of the new ride today, just to make sure everything was fully mission capable- fluids look good, lots of new or new-ish components, big old American V-6 block, so everything looks ready for many years of service. I'm told the vehicle was, at some point, in a major accident and rebuilt. The reason I know this is because the dealer told me- he pointed out that the title to the vehicle has an orange border, instead of the usual green. This means that the car had major body work done. Actually, you can kind of see this on the front end, which shows some evidence of non-stock parts. But nonetheless, it is fully functional, which in Buick-ese means you can run it over with a tank and not kill the thing. But let's not test that theory, I'm not sure what my insurance claim would look like for that one. I also tried to get the thing registered today, with no luck. Well, I have a temporary tag on it, it's perfectly street legal. However, apparently the dealer will mail me a duplicate title with the finance lien on it- I then bring this down to the tag agency (which is what they call the DMV in Oklahoma), and they issue me a permanent plate. Which I also have, but am not sure exactly when to put that on the car. According to the lady at the tag agency, that plate is good till December. I wondered, however, if she was a little off on that estimate, as the plate says it's valid till December of 2010, not this year. So I decided to leave the temporary tag on there until I can get in touch with the dealer, and confirm that this is in fact what's going to happen. If not, well, we'll take it from there!

Tabatha mentioned this last night, that I have great plans but the organization of a dish of spaghetti. True, but having realized this, I also have realized the value of lists. Bordering on the obsessive-compulsive, I now write lists. Usually when I wake up in the morning, I think- okay, what needs to happen today? Not that I don't even go out of the house without list in hand (and I've known people who, sadly, were not capable of something like this), but I try to take things one step at a time- today I can do this at this time, tomorrow I can do this, and this day I'll have more time, so I'll tackle this bigger project. And so on it goes, so far with success. It's a question of knowing your resources (time, money, etc) and what you want to do with them.

So all in all, it's stress with a safety valve here- about the same as always. The safety valve has been inoperable lately, but it looks like it's well on its way to getting repaired. It's important to allow yourself some time to unwind, be it at the day, or something as simple as finding a few minutes to take a couple deep breaths. I occasionally get someone telling me it's surprising how I take everything in stride. Well, not always- actually I keep a lot inside, and this means I need that safety valve more than ever. I do, however, need to make sure that this metaphorical safety valve is a safe one- nothing too self-destructive, or too much risk-taking. Lifting weights and running is pretty low-risk, and seems to have good results.

Well, that's about all the news that's fit to print from here. It's only Tuesday, which I should write a strongly worded letter about. This week is taking entirely too long. But I guess I'll just take it in stride, like always. And not drink the Tenafly Viper, of course.

Pessi-Mystic

I don't want to start any blasphemous rumors,

But I think God's got a sick sense of humor, and

When I die I expect to find him laughing

-Vince Clarke, Blasphemous Rumors

The day so far has been a busy one. This morning I managed to find a good deal on a car, a '96 Buick LeSabre, which is actually in near-mint condition. I went to Twister Auto Sales, here in Lawton, and they did a really good job, so feel obligated to plug them on the blog- go there if you're in the Lawton-OKC area and are looking for a good used car, they will treat you really well, and cut you a good deal, especially if you're military- we all stick together, after all. So now I'm mobile, and driving an old-guy mobile. If I start eating dinner at 4:30 and wearing pastel golf pants around my armpits, well, then feel free to smack me. But at any rate, it's a good car, has been well-kept and didn't cost me an arm and a leg.

I also was down at the local nursery, as my Norwegian dwarf pine had been looking a little down lately- I figured the extra growth it had been doing meant that it needed a larger pot, as it was getting its roots squished in its current pot. Turned out I was right, so hopefully it will be a little happier now. While I was there I figured what the heck, might as well liven up the place a little more, and picked up a couple new additions, a moon cactus, which is a really funky little plant, as I found out. It looks like a cactus with a big flower on top, but this is actually a false impression- it actually is all cactus- the flower part is the same structure as the rest of it, though incredibly this flower part has no chlorophyll, which is what makes plants green, and allows them to derive energy from the sun. Why it's a bright shade of magenta, I don't know. But it seems to live quite contentedly without being green over a good part of its surface, so if that's what works, more power to you.

The third plant now inhabiting my room is a croton plant- it's a tropical foliage plant, kind of yellow and green, with big flat waxy leaves that for whatever reason point upwards. See, this is why I like plants, because they have so many eccentricities like that, yet are perfectly happy leaving the rest of us scratching our heads as to why they're like that. They follow their own internal logic, I guess. But at any rate, this croton plant, I learned, is poisonous. Probably not enough to do any major damage to a human body, apart from getting you good and sick, but perhaps a more severe problem for a dog or cat with a penchant for eating houseplants. Luckily, there are no dogs here, and so these plants are are likely to remain uneaten. Still, kind of an odd surprise.

I also got to catch a movie last night during my usual Friday night do-nothing session- No Man's Land- Rise of Reeker, it was called. All in all, not too bad! I think the movie was a pre-quel to the film Reeker, which follows the same format, yet takes place sometime after the events of the prior. The basic premise of this movie is this- there's a welding-supplies salesman (much like, Chipman blog historians will remember, the Salesman of the poems your humble narrator wrote many moons ago-though my Salesman was occasionally involved in a little illicit chemical exchange here and there, was no murderer, just a working guy), who also happens to be known as the Death Valley Drifter, who, being a travelling salesman, kills people on a lonely stretch of California highway and keeps either parts or whole bodies in an unrefrigerated shack out in the middle of nowhere. His actual rationale and motives for this are never clear, and he himself claims to be directed by voices of an unknown origin. So at any rate, on goes his 'work', until he's captured by a lucky deputy, surrenders, is tried and executed. Then, he winds up back in a kind of limbo, apparently between life and death. Except he himself continues to decay- California heat being what it is, hence the name Reeker. So, time goes on, Reeker is presumably kicking it at his shack in the semi-afterlife, apparently with the job of dispatching the recently- dead to wherever it is they go. At first this was confusing, as if they're already dead, what's the point of having a monster to kill them? In actuality, they're not all the way dead- only mostly dead- with all dead, there's only one thing you can do. At any rate, Reeker has been transformed into a kind of grim-reaper-esque, semi-mechanical figure, having lost one of his hands during his arrest and grafting a series of bizarre mechanical apparatuses onto it, the better to flay you with, my dear. He also (and this isn't easy to portray in a movie) stinks to high heaven. Apparently in this limbo, your goal is to either defeat him or outrun him, in which case you get to return to the land of the living- anyone who doesn't walk that line between dead and could be resuscitated apparently doesn't get to make a pit stop in Calli on their way out. But if you defeat this guy, you get a second chance.
So the moral of the story is, if you die, you go to California to face a smelly undead guy (and believe me, get a large quantity of decaying flesh together, and it will indeed knock you on your ass from smell alone) who will try to make you more dead with any number of cleverly home-engineered tools of personal destruction. If you can outwit, outrun or generally beat the un-living crap out of him, you get to return to the world of the living.Otherwise, the powers that rule the universe have decided that a travelling salesman will usher you into the afterlife. The theology of this is mind-boggling.
But the movie did have some grotesquely humorous scenes, and was overall very creepy, the kind of atmosphere of gloom and weirdness that can really make a scary movie. The photography and sets really lent a surreal, dream-like atmosphere to the film, and overall I found it pretty easy to get drawn into the story, convoluted though it was. If you happen across either this or the very-similar sequel/prequel, they're definitely worth the cost of a rental. I found myself laughing at scenes of dismemberment, which has more to do with a good film than it does with me being a sick twisted bastard.

Also definitely worth a peek is fearnet's website- as always. Users of high-speed internet may enjoy their collection of horror films you can view online. I've probably mentioned that before (boy, looks like my day to plug stuff on my blog), but it's worth a look- if not for decent movies, just for sheer love of B-movies. I checked out Waxwork, and found a low-budget gem. Predictable from scene one, it is more unintentionally funny than anything else. It does have (actually very good) actor David Warner in it., who for some unexplained reason dresses like an insane pimp, a roundabout reference to Freaks, and a woman who is reminiscent in some ways of Audrey Hepburn, if Audrey Hepburn was blonde and couldn't act. And John Rhys-Davies turns into a werewolf. So all in all, just sit back and enjoy the goofy ride, and cheer (yes, we all do it) whenever one of the thoroughly unlikable characters gets it.

So I guess that's about all the news fit to print from here- Monday starts the custody battle, which I'm hoping will be no battle at all- the best war is one that's settled at the bargaining table, not the one that ends in a bloody victory. Stay well, everyone, and enjoy the spring!

Shock Treatment

It's turning out to be one long week! Here it is Wednesday, feeling half-alive, still searching for a car. I'm not in a hurry- whatever will happen will happen. No Mustang, says Tabatha, my better half. They turn men into instant assholes, pardon my language. I had to laugh a little at that, thinking it was funny. Whether it's true or not, I don't know. My thoughts run like this- evidently the equation is horsepower plus guy equals big ego, leading to drives like a jackass on meth. Okay, so let's extrapolate a little- we have two parts to this equation- power and then ego, which in turn leads to strung out donkey, and so forth. Consider, however- I drive a truck with a Detroit diesel engine about the size of my kitchen- here we have horsepower. In any practical situation (and a few impractical ones) said Detroit diesel is tricked out with machine guns- here we have horsepower and firepower. See where I'm going with this? In this case, no driving like said druggie farm animal. Rather, know fully well what your vehicle is capable of doing, as well as not doing, like weighing 14 tons and not being exactly able to stop on a dime. I'm pretty sure this is kind of the ultimate 'guy' vehicle. George Romero fans will perhaps remember Land of The Dead, with the incomparable John Leguizamo piloting a vehicle called Dead Reckoning- take off the snazzy paint job and a couple feet of chassis length and you've pretty much got my ride. Driving this any other way than tight and neat is liable to do two things- get someone hurt or get you in a world of hurt.
But I digress. Today it stormed with great enthusiasm, which was a lot of fun. I love thunderstorms, and Oklahoma has some epic ones. One of the trucks, (the same kind as mine, ammo/cargo HEMTTs) blew a starter motor somehow, so it's kind of dead in the water until we can replace the part. The problem seemed to be that the starter motor never disengaged when the truck was running- whoops! Internal combustion engines have electric starters- remember in old movies, where the driver gets out and sticks a crank in the front of the car to start it? The electric starter pretty much did away with the need for these. It in essence turns the crank for you- this is why your car won't start with a dead battery, but will start after you jump it- the battery will recharge off of your gasoline engine, but the starter motor needs that initial battery charge to turn the engine over in the first place. Of course, that electric motor isn't designed to keep running- once it does its job, it goes back off and sits quietly until the next time it's needed.. Except in this case, where it was trying to keep up with the diesel engine that was moving the truck, and running much faster than the starter motor could have. So the result was that the starter overloaded and went out. We determined this first by opening the engine manifold and getting a stink of ozone, and also because all the other electrical components and wiring are completely intact and functional.

The day progressed on, bringing us up to the afternoon. I was on an armory detail- the armory being the big secure vault where we keep lots and lots of weapons. (Yes, collapsible buttstock time again). We had to run 40 rifles over to a neighboring motor pool, as they had a tool we ourselves did not for switching out the rifle components. So we loaded up a Humvee and headed over there. We got the rifles unloaded, partially disassembled, then reassembled and loaded, all the while listening to the rain and thunder just outside. Rifles secured and retrofitted, we all jumped back into our Humvee, out of the torrential rain, and cranked the engine. No luck, it wouldn't turn over. Figures. We tried again- rien. So we realized we'd have to "jump the bastard", as my armorer so adroitly put it. All military vehicles are equipped with a special port that allows us to do just that- called a slave port, we use big chunky cables to connect to a functioning vehicle and jump the battery. Humvees being no exception, we found a nearby vehicle, and I got to go running around in the rain, dragging a cable that weighed more than I did and getting thoroughly drenched in the process. I plugged the cable into the donor vehicle's port, while someone else held the other end, staying dry in our disabled vehicle, waiting for my thumbs-up to plug into our port and hopefully get the thing running. I plugged it in and looked over- at our vehicle now running! Somehow it decided to start after the driver cranked it over one more time. Of course, by this point I was soaked to the skin, and the other guy was holding the other end of the cable, conspicuously not plugged in, and laughing like a loon. I took in the situation myself, and just about fell on my soaked rear end laughing too. Truly a comedy of errors, this. So back to our own motor pool we went, threw out the excess packing material we had accumulated, and called it a day. We then offloaded our newly equipped weapons, locked up the arms vault, and tried to dry off a little bit. At least we had an exciting time, watching the tracer rounds go flying off in all directions from a nearby machine gun range.

Whatever happens from here on out, well, that was a moment in time- like so many others, in some odd way giving me the sense that it's all going to work out in the end, and this existence isn't quite as futile as sometimes we might think.

Revenge of The Phoenix, Part 8- The Gathering Storm

A little belated, but hey. I move at the speed of me, not the rest of the world. Today was a PT test, it went pretty well. Today was also the continued search for a car. I'm starting to think screw this, I'll put down a couple grand on a Mustang and drive around looking even more like Vin Diesel than usual.

Apart from that, the battle of the caged brakes continues- jeez, how many trailers can you freeze up in one motor pool? Well, at any rate, we eventually got them moved. Fun times. It's getting really warm down here lately, up in the 90s. And it's only Tuesday! When is the end of this week? Too far away, that's when. I also spent some time at the arms vault restocking rifles. Yes, the timeless M16-when you absolutely need to shoot something with a minimum of weight. I hear the old AK-47s are a little less prone to jam. But why, you may ask, were we moving rifles around? Not because we're out shooting stuff- rather, because they are all getting collapsible buttstocks. (Feel free to laugh at this funny-sounding but completely accurate term). Usually the smaller M4 carbine rifles have a collapsible buttstock (let's see how many times we can say collapsible buttstock in this post), which are somewhat lighter than the M16, with a shorter barrel, yet comparable range and firepower. I actually didn;t know you could put a collapsible buttstock (that's 4) on a rifle of that type, but apparently you can. What the advantages are, I'm not sure. I've fired both before, and found I actually prefer the M16. Actually, given the option, just stick me in the turret and give me a .50 cal, and I'm happy as a bird! But we also need to qualify with regular rifles, which is rather a different animal.

Collapsible buttstock- okay, just threw that one in there. But at any rate, life goes on here at the motor pool. I also got my divorce done! This was the high point of my day. Now begins the custody fight, unfortunately. I'm trying really hard not to use the kids as bargaining chips- let's not sink to that level, let's look at it logically. Of course, by its very nature this is something mired in bad emotions, resentment and petty squabbles. But hopefully, one way or the other, right will prevail and justice will be done. The actual divorce was simplicity itself- is this your name, do you live here, do you agree that you guys have no common property, and that this is the reason for divorce? I was actually sworn in, too- kind of cool. But I suppose that makes it official, as I'm then bound to tell the truth or be guilty of perjury. Over a divorce that simple? I rather doubt that. Besides, what's there to tell? It fell apart faster than a Mexican space shuttle (with a collapsible buttstock), and we're ready to call it quits and curse each other's names to the afterlife and back. Well, okay, exaggerating about that last part. But I have to admit to mixed feelings about this- on the one hand, relief and a sense of being glad it's finally bloody over with. On the other hand, well, too bad it didn't work out. Then again, I guess it had to happen. It would be easy to demonize my ex here, tell everyone all the terrible things she did, but to be honest, I wasn't guiltless either. I had some mental issues, (still do, but nobody's perfect), though in that environment I never would have been able to work through them. The time I spent earning my title as Sanest Patient on South Ward were, failing all else, relaxing and a time to think. Perhaps, to get the first glimpses of the man I would eventually become. What a long, convoluted road it's been! I'm not proud of my past, and all the epic screwups I've been responsible for. But I know despite this, I'm a good man, and that I'm never beaten until I don't get back up. Wasn't it Nietzche who said, that which doesn't kill us ultimately makes us stronger? Unfortunately, in the meantime it takes its toll.

But life goes on, does it not? There are things worth fighting for in this life- love, liberty and the pursuit of wisdom, happiness or something like that. I know especially I put Tabatha through a lot- again, these are not things I'm proud of. But if it's worth fighting for, it's worth fighting for. Sometimes it seems like I'm slashing at shadows, missing the actual enemies, real or imagined. But I know ultimately this is leading me somewhere. Wherever that somewhere is, it's a better place- we're on an upward spiral, even if the higher reaches are still obscured in fog.

Revenge of The Phoenix, Part 7- At The Crampton Ice Works

It's a bitter pill

I swallow here

To be rent from one so dear

We fought for justice,

And not for gain

But the magistrate sent me away.

-Van Diemen's Land

Monday was not a good day. I woke up drenched in sweat and feeling like run-over possum on hot asphalt. Perhaps this should have been a clue to go to sick call, find out what was wrong with me, and take some time to recover. No, not me. I went in to work, like I always do. And lo and behold, the new Sergeant Major decided it would be a good idea to take everyone on a 7-mile run! Fun stuff. Well, if I had been spending a little more (a lot more, maybe) time running, I might have been a little better prepared for that. Half the battalion didn't make it- and was the Sergeant Major pissed! Will any needed change come from this, like, say, tasking us out less so we have a few spare minutes to actually run on our own? Sure, and I'll be elected Pope. Wait, is the Pope elected? I don't know. You get the idea though. Tomorrow, of course, is the pt test- tradition dictates that you get plenty of rest beforehand. Right.

Well, at any rate, looks like tomorrow is court for me. That should be an exciting time! And I don't mean I'll be running around going "Ding, Dong, the witch is dead". (Mainly because hopefully anyone I know matching that description will not be dead). But rather, it;s something that's been a long time coming- a time for us to move on with our lives, and put the pieces back together. I know that this has to happen if I'm ever to get on with my life- I just wish I had a clearer picture of that life! But as time goes on, I get a little glimpse here and there.

Apart from that, it's time to move trucks at work! Oh boy, the fun never stops! I'm still not entirely clear on the new layout they've got planned for us, despite the fact that I'm moving trucks into it. See what I mean about needing a clearer picture now and again? Well, the big adventure today was an inexplicably stuck brake on a trailer. The trailer looks a good deal like one of the old Radio Flyer wagons, except larger and equipped with air brakes. And not painted red. But air brakes proved to be the problem, as they somehow got locked up on one wheel. Air brakes consist of two main components- an air chamber, and a spring chamber. The spring chamber kicks in when there's not enough air pressure to release it (usually around 60 psi). This might not sound like much, but the spring is thick steel and the size of a coffee can- so don't go taking the spring chamber apart without the right tools! At any rate, this spring releases when air enters the chamber- then it's simply a matter of pressing the brake pedal, which creates (you guessed it) air pressure, which in turn moves the brake arms, which are connected to the brake pads- and thereby braking happens. Thrilling, no? Well, point being, somehow the air chamber of one wheel (there are 4 air chambers on the trailer, one per wheel) got seized up and wouldn't move. I had never seen this happen before- usually a faulty air line will cause the chambers not to pressurize at all, and usually leak pressurized air all over the place, more often than not engaging the spring brakes. Since we were just moving the thing around the motor pool, I was all for saying screw it, just drag the stupid thing. If the brake chamber unfreezes, great. If it doesn't, well, tough. Of course, the Army mentality is why put off till later what will consume time and resources now? So we got one of our brilliant mechanics (and I say that in all seriousness, these guys and gals know their stuff inside and out), who went to work on it, finally getting the brake freed- there was somehow a frozen bolt in there. I don't quite understand the mechanism myself, but it got fixed, and the truck eventually got moved. Of course, the backing pin almost broke, but then again, this trailer was older than I am. The backing pin is, well, a big metal pin. It locks up the front two wheels of the trailer, which can turn back and forth, making cornering with the trailer. Again, think a Radio Flyer wagon and you've got the basic design of it. For some unknowable reason, the backing pin had a piece of bolt (the part with the screw threads on it) jammed under the release mechanism. The net result of this was that the pin couldn't be released., and we had to do some 'drifting' with the trailer. Apparently this is also a style of street racing- not recommended, as the physics of it mean that as any force can be diverted from its course, so your car sliding sideways can be diverted- the momentum then tends to send you flying, however. I actually got a pretty good skin graft (or perhaps its opposite) doing that on a bike once. The situation was flying down a hill where a dry streambed was- the dry streambed, like most of them, contained sand and loose rocks. I was trying to navigate this hill without losing control of the bike, which decided to go every which way, the front wheel, which controls your steering and direction, going every which way- skidding off a chunk of sand here, jerking sideways as it slid off a rock there. Now the slope of this hill increased, meaning momentum does what it does- mainly make you go faster. Knowing that the front wheel would more or less keep me going in a straight line, I braked on the front. My back tire, which by this point was so far behind my center of gravity as to be no help, decided it was having none of this, and began to drift to my left. So here's the situation- me sliding sideways at an alarming rate of speed down the hill, while wrestling the handlebars around to try and get the front wheel back where it belongs. Then I hit a rock hard enough to stop the bike short. As you may know, an object in motion tends to remain in motion- in this case, the bike was no longer in motion. I was. I flew gracefully off the bike, which clattered to the ground, and continued flying through the air. I remember watching the ground rush by underneath me, and thinking- "Damn. There's no way this isn't going to hurt like hell." It was actually somewhat exciting flying- the landing was a rough one, though. I was in the air long enough to kind of roll over, landing on my right shoulder and yanking it down towards my hips in a straight line. It dislocated, briefly, then snapped back into place. In retrospect, I was lucky I didn't seriously tear something, but as it was, your body tissues tend to not like to be yanked on quite so much. In addition to this, I lost a considerable chunk of skin off the back of my hand. I stood up and blistered the earth with a string of profanity that has yet to be matched for sheer creativity and artistry in my history. My arm hung like a rope off of my shoulder, numb and immobile. This turned out to be the best part, as feeling gradually came back into it, and my muscles and tendons began to stage a protest at this gross injustice. It was a good two weeks before I regained the full use of it, mainly due to soreness. This made my then job a challenge, as I worked stocking shelves in a grocery store. But all in all, an epic crash story.

Wow, I certainly got off topic there! But as long as I'm in that vein, I also had a less spectacular bike crash, resulting in a scar I have to this day. The prior crash left a tiny mark on my shoulder from some scratches, that you wouldn't even notice unless you really stared at my shoulder and I pointed it out to you. (I can think of maybe two people in the world who would be in that situation). This next crash occurred in Enfield, when I was heading home from a late shift at work. Actually, most of my shifts at that point in my life were late ones. But there I was, no car but a bike. So off I would go to work on a bicycle, which actually generally proved to be a pretty equitable solution. The problem with this is, sometimes you can't see where you're going in the wee hours of the morning. So as I was going along, I sideswiped a curb- the point where the road ends and the sidewalk begins- the best solution is to either take the thing head-on and jerk your handlebars up to get over the bump, or to look for a driveway or business entrance, where the curb isn't. Don't do what I did, which is try to run up on the curb sideways. It's a good way to go flying- this time, the crash was a little less serious, but I was wearing short sleeves, and took a good beating on my forearm just below the elbow. It subsequently proved to be most sticky and messy, and I had a fun hour or so picking out gravel. It wasn't that serious, but did scar over most impressively. Hurt like hell, too.

Well, the end of this long and rambling tale is perhaps this- to some extent, our past makes us who we are. But always we are free to remake ourselves. In fact, we decide who we will be- either by actions or inactions. And I know for one, that inaction is not always the best course to take. But wish me luck tomorrow, and the rest of this week! I think once I get through Tuesday, (hopefully I do get through Tuesday!) things will be a little bit easier. Life goes on, it seems- if we can keep going on through, eventually the far shore will come near.

Hermeticism And All That Good Stuff

I'm in my room.

I'm Dr. Doom,

Because I'm not someone else

-Alice Cooper, Blow Me A Kiss

I've been reading a little on the life and times of one Jean Baptiste Pitois, one of the people who believed the Tarot to have an Egyptian origin. Though not entirely supported by history, it's an interesting idea. According to Pitois, the 22 Major Arcana were never actually intended for divination purposes- rather, they were a series of symbols kept by Egyptian mystery cults. As symbols, they were thought to reflect all the wisdom of the world. Were they? Well, the problem with this is you could take pretty much any given system of symbols and assign meaning to it. The thing about symbols is, it's not the actual symbols themselves, but rather the meaning they are imbued with.

Pitois describes the "Ritual Of The Temple", in which an initiate is brought through a secret passage below the Sphinx, and leading down a series of passages to below the pyramid of Cheops. The initiate then goes through a series of tests- first facing a mechanical Reaper, who swings a huge scythe towards the initiate's face. The goal of this test is that the initiate, desiring the secret knowledge and wisdom more than anything else, does not run away or flinch, but rather faces his fear down. From this, the initiate then goes on to face other tests, such as crawling down a tunnel where a loud voice disorients him, shouting how the unenlightened must not profane sacred wisdom, or words to that effect. The whole point of this is that the initiate must put the desire for wisdom before all else, even his own safety and fears. Should he pass the test, he is ushered into a secret, circular chamber where 22 pictures hang on the wall. These 22 pictures corresponded to the 22 Major Arcana, and a priest would enter the room with the initiate to explain the symbols and reveal the hidden wisdom and meanings of them.

All in all, history has proved more or less inconclusive in this regard. It could well be that there was such a place, though the fact is that the earliest historical evidence of these 22 symbols is in Italy, not Egypt- called the triomfi, they represented a common ceremonial procession used by the nobility, and were usually comissioned to mark an event. However, there's strong anecdotal evidence for a universality among human experience that lends some credence to this theory.
I've also been reading through Raven Grimassi's Wiccan Mysteries, which traces the origins of Wicca back to an ancient "Cult of the Dead"- the Wiccan lineage is not really unbroken, and has evolved into modern times into two more or less distinct branches. The Wiccan religion, according to Grimassi, divides into two parts-the old religion, based on nature, and the template it shows us, and the new religion, less structured, based on freedom of thought and individual experience. Gardnerian Wicca, as a for example, would fall under the old religion, which has a greater focus on tradition and doctrine than the more eclectic new religion. All in all, an interesting argument- clearly, further research is indicated. Or I should just finish the book, also not a bad idea.
There seems to be a lot of 'chicken and egg' debate among modern day witches and Wiccans- my tradition is older, therefore superior, to yours. This is probably due to that pesky old Judeo-Christian idea of absolutes- something is absolutely true, or the 'right' way, while everyone else is wrong and incorrect. But correct me if I'm wrong, wasn't that why a whole lot of Wiccans left Christianity in the first place? Because it's incompatible with what they see to believe? The problem with this is that if everything is true, how do you find out what is and what isn't? Personally, I'm thinking we can strike a balance. Experience tells us a good deal- say as a for example, we have learned that the stovetop is hot- if you have an electric stove, don't go sticking your hand on the red coil, it'll hurt. Perhaps some of us, hopefully most of us, go through life not finding this out first hand- I for one am prepared to accept it on anectodal evidence, and not put my hand on the very same red coil to find out that it is in fact hot. So in a larger sense, we have here an indication that the people who have come before have amassed a body of knowledge. We can build on this without having to go back and re-test every single little hypothesis they've come up with. Of course, we can do that, should we want to- but why bother? Would it not be easier to just move forwards? This is the way science works- we don't need to go back and re-prove every theorem, though we can go digging and see how these things were actually proved. I don't need to re-test Gregor Mendel's theory on genetics to know why both my children have the same brown eyes that I do.

So in some senses, it's not a bad idea to retest theories, if you want to really get that personal experience. But we can accept a few things on assumption. I can reasonably accept that the sun will come up tomorrow, gravity will still work, and that water will continue to sustain life. But the question then becomes, what do we accept and reject? Well, there are factual matters that we can generally accept- if you doubt something, well, then go figure it out yourself! There's nothing wrong with reworking the assumptions of the past- if we didn't do that, we wouldn't have modern-day Wicca, with all its eccentricities and various subsets.

But back to Pitois. Here was one of the scholars who attributed Hermeticism to Egyptian origins- there was a similar pattern of thought originating in these same Egyptian mysteries that later spread to Greece and from there throughout the world. It's a pretty common human trait to try and create correlations and correspondences- seeing similarities, not differences. Again, I would conjecture that this can also indicate a commonality of humanity and human experience. This doesn't indicate that these spiritual traditions are invalid or simply made up- rather, it could very well indicate something higher and more esoteric essential to our human nature- we filter it through experience and perception to make sense of things that themselves are not really derivative of any one system. Well, at any rate, it gave me a good deal to think about. Our ability to think, I believe, is pretty strong evidence for human evolution- from the lower to the higher, so to speak.

Saturday Night At Club Villain

The latest news-the old Chevy finally gave up the ghost, plunging me headlong into the world of car finance. Personally, I'd rather be deeply enmeshed in the world of my own imagination, things are more interesting there. So under ideal circumstances, I'll get financed for an '07 Caliber, which is pretty nice. Failing that, well, I'll think of something. Life usually provides a way, even if it's not quite the way you want. But at any rate, things move onwards. I still need to tow the %^^*&*ing Chevy, more than likely by the people I'm going to sell it to for parts.

But I have a good feeling about a car I was checking out today- an 07 Dodge Caliber, looks a little like Tim Burton designed a station wagon. It's in good shape and gets good gas mileage, and it's this bizarre burnt orange color. Though none of this is really a reason to buy a car- well, the good gas mileage and reliability are.
The real bitch is getting the thing financed. Unlike most people, I don't walk around with 13 large in my back pocket, so that means financing, and hunting around for either a place to finance me or a decent interest rate, whichever is more likely. I'm looking into options now- the problem is, being a military town, many sharks are in the water, especially where new soldiers are concerned. Well, keep three eyes open and watch where you step is the best answer to that.

Apart from that, today is laundry and clean the room day, which isn't a big chore. Well, actually laundry is, but that's ok. I think the main problem is running out of space to actually put stuff in. Books, unfortunately, tend to take up a lot of space. But in order to get started on this massive project, I need some coffee! Also being a military town, we have two other things in abundance apart from loan sharks- coffee and beer. Usage depends on the time of day- me personally, I'm not much for drinking. There are of course, lots of bars, though not many here in town. You have to go somewhere else to chase skirts, apparently. Well, if that's your thing, good luck and go for it.

In other news, I've been watching the TV show Dexter lately. The title character is a serial killer vigilante kind of guy, who apparently solves cases before the police do, and gets vengeance on other serial killers. This dates back to his adoptive father, who was a police detective, and advises his sociopathic young son that if you've got to kill someone, why not have it be someone who deserves it? There are ways not to get caught. Is that what they call making the best of a bad situation? But Dexter is actually somewhat likeable, apart from being completely devoid of emotions- a common trait of sociopathic personalities. He's also employed as a forensics technician by the Miami police department. Go figure. But all in all, a lot violent but an interesting premise, with the occasional off-color joke thrown in. Some alluded-to-but-never-stated event happened way back in Dexter's past, that we don't know about, yet made him into a monster. Dexter himself remembers nothing prior to his adoptive parents, and they aren't talking- well, actually they've already died in the context of the show, but aren't talking in flashbacks.

So anyway, it's off to another day filled with adventure and excitement in the rich tapestry that is my life. Or I'll just go put the coffee on.