Short Story on Hold=More Musings

Fun Fact: After having successfully flown their airplane at Kill Devil Hills in 1903, the Wright Brothers continued their flying tests in Dayton, Ohio until they achieved what they deemed sustainable flight.  They accomplished this feat in 1905 and from that point on quite flying until they had secured their patents for a heavier than air, powered, controlled, manned flying apparatus (in essence). 

True Story: The Wright Brothers were no dumbski-s! They knew that the airplane was a great business opportunity, and didn't intend at all on letting the financial possibilities slip away. Paranoid that their invention would get stolen or copied, the Wright Brothers refused to provide demonstration flights for potential customers (Governments and armies across the globe) until they had signed a contract to purchase their product. 

How awesome would it be to invent a product that you could make a government sign a contract to purchase it without ever having seen it work.  Now take that and multiply it by about 431297213 because of how revolutionary the airplane has been to the world.  No big deal, the Wright Brothers were essentially self taught engineers, one with a high school a diploma and one without, and built bicycles for a living.

Now admittedly, I'm slightly obsessed with the Wright Brothers because of working as an interpreter on the subject for a year, being a nerd for all things airplanes, and my niche for Imperial American history.  It's incredible though that such everyday people from a Midwest city were able to influence the course of human events in manner hardly imaginable 25 years before their time.  This came to mind because I recently stumbled upon (not so much physically tripped and almost fell, but while using the StumbleUpon) quotes from Charles Bukowski. Now everything that I have gathered (with reputable research done through wikipedia and Amazon's biography sections on book reviews) about this individual is this: he had a terrible childhood and grew up to be a drunk that wrote poems, short stories, and novels about the average man. Think of him as a modern Pieter Bruegel (the Elder, that is). No, doesn't do much for ya? Well here, this is a quote attributed to him from this website I was shown:

"That's the problem with drinking, I thought, as I poured myself a drink. If something bad happens you drink in an attempt to forget; if something good happens you drink in order to celebrate; and if nothing happens you drink to make something happen." A selection cited from his work Women.

I say that may just be one of the most brilliant things ever realized. If you're not sold yet, how about this:

We are 
Born like this 
Into this 
Into these carefully mad wars 
Into the sight of broken factory windows of emptiness 
Into bars where people no longer speak to each other 
Into fist fights that end as shootings and knifings 
Born into this 
Into hospitals which are so expensive that it’s cheaper to die 
Into lawyers who charge so much it’s cheaper to plead guilty 
Into a country where the jails are full and the madhouses closed 
Into a place where the masses elevate fools into rich heroes

Having read that got me thinking about the capability which each of us have to make an impact. The latent good that we have often goes unnoticed, or questioned heavily when we consider it's appearance.  So I pose this challenge for one day: Do all of those things you were taught to do as kid (yes, I'm talking about using manners and acting on common human decency).  Random acts of kindness were popular for awhile, but I'm not asking you to do any such thing. I'm challenging you to treat people like people for one day to see the reactions you receive.  Go out to eat, go buy groceries, or do whatever it is you need to do in a day.  When you go to check out, ask they cashier how their day has gone.  When asked by a customer service employ about how you're doing, answer their question; say thank you; and return the favor.

Common courtesy has been lost in a day and age when we are immensely tied into our personal lives by appointments, jobs, smart phones, etc.  I ask that you try this challenge to see how you can impact one persons day on a small but personal level.

Thanks for being patient everyone! Hope that you had a wonderful Thanksgiving with friends, family, and loved ones.  Special shout out to those of my family that I didn't get to see this year at Thanksgiving: Love ya Aunts Jan and Jill, Bryan and Justin.  Hope you're doing well!

Lies: Life Lesons

Fun Fact: I sometimes fail miserably at writing frequently, and writing those things which I say I will.

True Story: So I'm guessing at this point you've realized that I have not written a segment of a short story yet.... Sorry, I know everyone is devastated. What I can offer as a compilation prize is really rather good. I've got good stories to share.


Let us first start with establishing this: I'm not exactly what one would call "a wild and crazy guy." I often joke that I'm a 70 year old man trapped in the body of a 22 year old.  It's a treacherous existence, I promise.  I'm cantankerous, judgmental, and really disapprove of most youth shenanigans.  On occasion though, I have been known to go out and enjoy myself with my friends at an establishment which makes a majority of its revenues from alcohol. Yes my friends, I'm speaking of the glorious places we affectionately refer to as bars.

One evening last weekend myself and two friends decided to go to such a place and have a drink or two, but unbeknownst to us the night had different plans for us.  Minding our own business, a gentleman strikes up a conversation with us and introduces to his wife.  I use the terms "gentleman" and "wife" in the vaguest and loosest of senses because this man proceeds to tell us how he has been shot four times, stabbed twice, and in prison for ten years.  Be jealous of the company I keep, it's OK I don't blame you. During our conversation, the women which was with this man made a comment about how she felt old.  My friend, we'll call him this for the time being until he gets me killed, makes a quick quip about how she must only be 25 or so, she obviously isn't, in the best taste of chivalry, which if it wasn't dead before it will be at this rate.

What happened in the following moments were some of the most frightening of my life.  The woman asked her "hubby" if she could give my friend a kiss for being so kind and he agreed, but not before stretching his arm across the bar, pointing a finger in my friend's face, and stating, "No tongue!" The three of us chuckled uneasily, and the woman proceeded to walk around the bar, grab my friend's face, and lay a big ol' smooch on him right in front of us all.  Everyone kind of laughed and thought nothing of it until we turned to look at the ex-con sitting to my immediate left. To say that this man was upset would be completely wrong, and angry wouldn't detail just how enraged this man was at the moment.  The man then got up from his seat and walked out of the bar while leaving his life behind with us.

My thoughts at that time were: WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!!!!!!! I'M GOING TO GET STABBED BECAUSE MY BUDDY MADE AT WITH SOME GUY'S WIFE!!!!! HE'S BEEN STABBED EIGHT TIMES AND SHOT ELEVEN TIMES!! HE'S BEEN IN JAIL FOR FOURTEEN YEARS AND JUST GOT OUT!!!!!!!!!

The man reentered the bar. He looked around and made eye contact with me, and then walked straight to where I was sitting.  I braced myself for the knife blade that was going to enter my side. Closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to see the blood. Nothing.  No stab, not so much as a pin prick.  I opened my eyes to see the woman escorting her husband out of the bar and home.

So needless to say, I almost died at the hands of an escaped serial killer who was shot seventeen times, stabbed a dozen times and served twenty years of a four life sentences.

I hope everyone is doing well and staying warm and getting ready for some grubbin' on Thanksgiving! Everyone make sure to carbo load on Thursday so you have the energy needed to fight your way to the top on Black Friday.

Apology: Not as epic as Plato's

Dear "Those" Guys of the world,

With my last blog installment, I never intended to terribly offend or degrade your position of honor within our complex and lackadaisical society.  My post was merely for educational purposes so that those of you out there who wish to cease being "That" Guy could identify the things to change and correct in your behaviors.  I hope my apology is sufficient in absolving our differences so we can continue to coexist in the world.

Sincerely,

drh


Fun Fact: Apparently an announcement was made over TGN ("That" Guy Network) about my last blog, and resulted in a call to action.  It has led to an amassing of forces which is unlike that of any other seen before on this Earth. Spanish Armada of 1588, assault on the beaches of Normandy, and the invasion of Iraq pale in comparison to the this collection of troops.  Composed of elderly drivers, naive teenagers (read as "stupid, insolent kids"), and non-observant individuals from across the world, I have been ambushed by  an overwhelming force of incompetence while driving and performing daily activities.  So much so that I must recant my last blog.  Please let this be the end of the onslaught because I cannot take much more of this vicious crusade.

Pretty please? With a cherry on top?

Since you now know about what it is I must endure in order to reach work each and every morning, it seems only fair that I tell you a bit about where I work and what I do.

I work for a company that works on industrial equipment. We re-fabricate older machines and then sell them to other companies who need those pieces of equipment, and my job is to tear them apart so they can be painted and worked on by the folks who make them work.  It goes without saying that my job is grimy, dirty and a bit nasty. Ironically, I'm totally OK with that. By the time I go back into work on Monday morning, my hands and fingers have finally lost the black hue which covers them every other day of the week, only to get re-covered by 9AM that day. It's a nice change of pace from all the other kind of work I've ever done, but my favorite part of the job is when we move things around the warehouse. That's when I get to go ahead and act like a twelve year old kid and just climb all over anything and everything to find a spot to place a 4,000 lbs welding apparatus. Let me put this simply: I get paid, to run around and relive my youth while everyone else has to do actual work. Joke's on them!

What I enjoy most are the reactions which I receive once I leave work at the end of the day, and go out into the world. Covered in rust, dirt, and grease, the mere sight of me is enough to shock most anyone who feels like they make an honest living, and then they hear me say something other than, "I"m a drunk haggard that enjoys playing in puddles of machine oil."  I watch peoples' minds burst as the smoke rolls out from their ears.  So the moral of the story is: Don't shake my hand or give me a hug after work until I've gotten a shower, it's in your best interest.

Hope everyone is doing well! My next blog will be the first installment for a short story.  Intriguing, I'm sure. Otherwise, thanks for the continued support seven blogs into this exercise!

Commute: Ode to "That" Guy

Fun Fact: My commute to work in the morning should take me anywhere between 19 to 22 minutes.  Dependent of course on how many green lights I catch.

True Story: My commute, lately, has been taking on average 26 minutes. Atrocious, I know. I understand to a majority of people my complaint sounds absurd and obnoxious, and the reason it sounds that way is due to the fact it is rather absurd and obnoxious.  In my personal defense, I've found that the best pot of coffee is brewed by whoever arrives at the building about 15 minutes before I do. This means that I can enjoy the last cup of that masterfully brewed pot of black gold if I'm able to make my commute within 22 minutes. Lest it be that I arrive 23 minutes after I depart my house because the last cup is gone. Stolen from my grasps of uncaffeinated hatred for anything merry in the morning hours.  And don't get me started if I happen to sprint into the building on that 24th minute. I may as well have not gotten out of bed, called it a day and retired to a sad state of dormancy based on my lack of coffee and income.

The question being raised by discerning readers is that of "Why, oh wonderful author of 'The Blog' (it's catching on, I can feel it), has your commute been extended by an unheard of amount of four to seven minutes?!?!"  I'll tell you why.

Red Honda Civic.... Man.

This individual has become my arch nemesis in the world of morning commute crime fighting and prevention. What laws does he break? One could make an argument, which would withstand a minimum of two appeals in criminal court, that this menace to society commits the most egregious offense known to man: driving slower than the speed limit.

I know. Take all the time you need to recollect yourself and send any young children into the other room.

During my drive into work each morning, I mind my own business. I don't drive excessively fast, don't run stop signs, and don't drive like an intolerable member of society (in my own professional opinion).  In recent days I've had the unfortunate problem of ending up behind Red Honda Civic.... Man. It happens suddenly and unwillingly each morning. I'll come up to a red light and KABAAM! Red Honda Civic.... Man, is there in waiting! Never knowing how he knows my schedule or my appearance, this sloth ninja appears before me and proceeds to extend the time of my commute by a mean of five minutes each time he drives before me.  Worst of all, this charlatan happens to work in the same industrial complex that I do. WHAT ARE THE ODDS?!

So this is my answer and response to the incredulous and cruel Red Honda Civic.... Man.

Ode to "That" Guy

My metal stallion glistens with the morning frost,

And invites me in its cold manner to drive to work.

Reluctantly, I agree and make haste to clear the ice,

But not before a startling thought passes my mind.

'That' Guy is out there this morning undoubtedly.

Meandering through the morning commute traffic,

Slowing down everyone which lay in their wake.

Why must 'That' Guy drive ever so slowly?

I make a right and begin the last leg of my journey,

Over the hills and down the valleys of Cincinnati.

What is that which awaits me at the upcoming light?

It can't be, it shouldn't be, 'That Guy!'

Caught again! What to do trapped behind this criminal?

Should I turn off quickly and hope to beat him around,

Or do I cave and give into the uneasiness of defeat?

Alas, I am not a stronger man and shall follow 'That Guy.'

This has been a public service announcement of "Don't be 'That' Guy."  I understand there is a current among you which is saying "What about 'That' Girl?"  To that I answer: There never is nor will be one.  If in 20 plus years of living has taught me anything, it's to never pit blame on a woman (Guys, we'll meet down at the bar on Friday to address these issues).

Hope everyone is well and adjusting to the cooler temperatures which are beginning to make their presence known to us.  Feel free to leave any suggestions, comments or critiques below for me.