the rock garden

Yes, that's me, flotsam, driftwood, detritus washed up on the shores of the American dream. I'm in pain. I haven't had a cigarette since Sunday morning. And I ran out of nicotine gum today. I don't know if I'm going to make it.
It would help if I felt better. I've been cycling and walking all week. The cold dry weather has hit here, and I can't smell or breathe through my nose, my eyes are dry, and I keep sneezing. Like Garrison Keohler says, "That's why they made roads. So no one has to live like that. They can just drive south."
Emacs says auto-saving is done, how thoughtful!
Clearly I'm in a quirky mood. Okay, I'll briefly run it down. I am getting to be of an age where I have to accept some things about myself. When you are young, you can just say "I'm still young." But eventually you realize that this is you, and you may not grow out of some things. Period. Okay, I'm no geezer, but dusk is getting duskier and the sun is sinking on 32, and 33 will rise soon. I think I may have to accept that I will never be mainstream. I'm another one of those 'smart' people who are never satisfied with the ordinary. Unfortunately looking for thrills gets more difficult. Sometimes I think we all just do what we do because we haven't thought of anything better. Or maybe we don't believe that we can do what we want. Those are lame reasons not to chase things that make you happy.
Are smart people born smarter? Or are they just born so self-analytical that they don't think that they can get away with doing the same things others do, because they can't compete or aren't entitled to the same things? Do they think they have to do something mind blowingly better than the things that normal people do? Why do they think that way? Are all of the things smart people do done to make them 'special'? Most people I've known that are locked into the pursuit of some goal along these lines seem to understand that they are different, but few will ever appreciate their eccentricities. So they feel more cursed than anything.
Okay, maybe it's only me that feels cursed. I'm not saying I'm some super brainiac. I do feel like I act less of a child than a lot of people I meet.
I work and study on one of the largest campuses in the world, at Ohio State University. A lot of people over 23 years old complain about the 'students'. This seems dumb to me. First, all of us who are older than 23 were immature and made many of the same mistakes as the young students. We also had the same silly loyalties and were so committed to similarly silly ideals. That's what I miss most about being young, the blind f@#$ing faith. Of course, that faith is what lets us be so committed to dumb things. But it feels good to honestly believe.
The problem is as I get older the things that I believe in are probably more accurate, but don't mean as much. I had to find things out the hard way, and I think we all do. Those of us who learn things from others don't really learn them. And we will make the same mistakes we've watched others make, believe it.
To digress, I was talking about the students. They are people damnit, and some of them are fu@#ups, but some of them are gems. I've met some really nice peole of all ages, and some smart ones that have personalities to boot. The deal is, people get caught up in how younger people think of them. Forget it, so you can't relate. That's a natural thing that is as old as the hills. From about 14 to 22 people turn into seething vats of neuro chemicals and hormonal secretions, how can you relate to them? You're a normal well adjusted person. Your only hope is if you are a cleverly marketed product that represents a perpetual state of being misunderstood. Read that again.
Anyway, I can relate to some people on campus. Not in some stupid general way, but just as fellow travelers sharing the same existence and experiencing the same things in the same place and time. 'Nuff said.
My girlfriend is looking at houses pretty seriously, we currently share a nice old rental that is most easily described as a townhouse. It's brick and hardwood and lattice and plaster, and it's basically two huge houses built together that are each split in half, thus the townhouse idea. They have tall skinny crank windows and high ceilings and are a quarter century old. We have our full share of the basement plus two floors on our half of our half. Nice space and lots of windows to let light in different times of day/year. Although the front faces south, so in winter it gets late before the sun shows up, since most windows are north and south, and the external wall with a couple of small windows is east.
It is pitch black. You are likely to be eaten by a grue.
N
Sorry, Zork flashback. Typing directions like north and south makes me think I'm playing 'Adventure' on my Commodore VIC 20 or something. Waiting for the tape to load.
Well I've rambled quite a bit. Tomorrow is Veteran's Day here in the U.S, which means no school or work (or pay!) for me. I don't understand the war in Iraq. But there is a special place in my heart for those in the armed forces. I came very close to being in the Army after high school. I don't really understand it, since I am the type of person who doesn't bi@#h or fight or complain a lot. But I think I have some clue of what our servicepeople have inside them, and what they give us. And it demands respect.
My cousin James Hupp is a sniper in the Army, he is safe here in the States now. He served on the front lines when Baghdad was stormed. His team took over one building at a time all the way through the city. I guess he's probably an E5 now, so I should call him Sergeant Hupp? I've never met anyone from Iraq, and I might like them if I did. But there are some fundamentalist wackos over there, and somebody killed 5000 of my countrymen, and I'm proud to know that Sergeant Hupp will train and run 10 miles a day and shoot crazed men and spend almost a year in the desert in the Middle East, and risk his life, for us.
The war is a mess. It seems to be getting worse. I don't trust Bush. I think the goons that got him elected are behind what he does, just like always. And if Kerry or Gore, who I voted for, were President, they would do what the thugs that got them elected wanted them to do. Sigh. Life is complicated. But I voted, and I stood in line for 3 1/2 hours in the cold and rain to do it. I didn't wear a jacket, but did bring an umbrella. Miserable. I didn't vote until Al Gore ran for President, because I didn't have any faith that it meant anything. Now I'm older and I think it does mean something. I've taken a stake in the game. This is my country, and will have a say in how it is run. And even if I'm kidding myself when it comes to hoping my candidate will accomplish anything, the point is that this is my country, and I didn't feel that identity before. I just thought we were Westernizing Americanizing overzealously capitalist whores. And now I am a Westernizing Americanizing overzealously capitalist whore. Get used to it Towel Heads. We're the baddest sons of bitches on this planet. Don't fuck with us.
Wow, I read my own words, and I marvel. I must be a Republican who refuses to vote that way. A self hating right winger, who punishes himself by voting against his true nature. A riddle wrapped in an enigma, pissed on by a drunk paradox. For sure.
Sadly I cannot blame my words on substances. I have had but two Czech beers and no cigarettes tonight. And they will shit on your chest. Selah.

Did I fix it?