So, bombing sovereign nations doesn't make them like us?

I read an article in The Atlantic today about Farea al-Muslimi, a 22 year old Yemeni democracy advocate.  He spoke before a U.S. Senate committee on America's use of drones to strike at targets in countries like Yemen, Pakistan, Afghanistan, and who knows where else.

Al-Muslimi's words were powerful and moving.  They were also a bit "Well no shit, really?"

Essentially what he said boils down to "Drone attacks terrorize the population and make them fear and hate the US.  Even when those killed were the bad guys, its still terrifying to have missiles blowing stuff up where you live."

I might have paraphrased a bit, but that's the gist of his argument.  We're doing more harm than good by these drone attacks.  If you live in an area where the US is seemingly blowing up buildings at random, what is your view of the US going to be?   How is this in the long term helping to fight global terrorism?

Its not.  If anything, its adding to the ranks of future militants as the children who grew up in fear mistakenly fall prey to blaming America for everything and become radicalized.  

Am I saying if we stop drone strikes terrorists will go away?  Of course not, I'm not stupid, I'm merely saying that by doing this the way we are, we're just insuring the fight is perpetuated onto the next generation.  

How would America react if a foreign nation decided to kill "terrorists" on our soil without permission?  It would be a massive international incident and the hawks would probably be clamoring for armed strikes against the perpetrator.  

Instead, since we're America, its ok because Yemen, Pakistan, etc. can't directly threaten us. Might makes right.   

Except it doesn't.  Might causes fear and application of that might creates enemies.  

I'm not saying we ignore the problem of terrorists in areas like Yemen.  But the way we're going about solving it, by random acts of violence which kill civilians far too often, that's not a solution.  That's continuing to make ourselves part of the problem.

Hopefully the Senators will listen to al-Muslimi's words and reconsider our use of drones in strikes against sovereign nations.   

Jumping the Shark or Why I Don't Follow TV Shows

I'm not a big TV watcher.  I'm too difficult to please.  I don't have cable and don't follow the "popular" cable shows.

I don't really enjoy sitcoms as they fall into a formula ridiculously fast.

I enjoy procedural shows to a degree, but seldom follow them.

But, for the few shows I do watch, it drives me insane when the show just does something stupid.

Case in point.  My wife and I enjoy Castle.  We're currently watching the 5th season on Hulu.  Its been ok, pretty meh as the show has sort of run its course in a lot of ways, but we just finished the continued episodes.

!!!SPOILER ALERT IF YOU CARE!!!!

These two episodes were terrible.  It was pretty much Taken, except in Castleverse.  They even jokingly alluded to Taken acknowledging the plot was a thinly veiled ripoff of it.

Castle's daughter and a friend get kidnapped.  The friend's family is loaded, even by Castle standards.  They pay a ransom, get their girl back.  Alexis is still held hostage.  OH MY!!

Castle, doing his best Liam Neeson impression goes to rescue her.  Oh, did I mention she got whisked to Paris France?  Because its so easy to smuggle 2 people out of the country.   Anyway....

Castle goes to rescue her, through some contacts, gets hooked up with people to help him find the bad guys....plot twists abound.  

Then, an old dude with a rifle saves Castle....who could this be?  Could it be Castle's dad?  Yes, yes it could......really?   He's a CIA agent?

Ok, I'm bitching about a show that is fairly silly quite often.  But, it was just outlandish.  The writer's have really run out of better ideas?  Why did we have to find out about Castle's dad?  Why couldn't it be a mystery?

Ugh.  I just dislike it when decent shows do bizarre and dumb things.   Overall, I still like Castle, I'm just sitting in front of my computer thinking about all the shows I wanted to like but ultimately couldn't stick with.

Anyone remember Heroes?  The first season was meh as I felt they wasted potential, but it was enjoyable.  The second season they bizarrely decided to follow ALL THE CHARACTERS NO ONE CARED ABOUT most of the time.  Why?  I gave up then because it was so bad.  Apparently it stumbled along until season 3.

I understand its hard to make good TV shows.  Most shows have a life of 3-4 years of good episodes at best.  But I wish they'd just assume that from the get go instead of stringing shows along with crap.  (Bones anyone?  Man, its still ok sometimes, but its pretty bad now too.)

Oh well.  Pointless post is pointless.

I'll go back to yelling at clouds.

A Brief History of Music (as it applies to Ovid9) part 1

Growing up, there was always music around our house.  My parents both loved music.  My mom played piano and sang, and my dad just loved music for music's sake.

We listened to tons of oldies.  Though my parents came of age in the late 60s early 70s, they were heavily steeped in the music of the 50s and early 60s.

Part of this came from my dad being a lifeguard and the pool playing music of that era.  Part of it came from him being the youngest in his family by 7 years and hearing the music his older siblings listened to.

But we listened to lots of oldies.

We also listened to lots of late 70s, early 80s Christian music.   I know what most of you are thinking, and you're partially right, some of it did suck.  Other's not so much.

Keith Green was a hell of a musician and songwriter.  The 2nd Chapter of Acts, mixed in with lots of cheese put out Roar of Love in 1980 which was played a TON in my house when I was young.  Its pretty much The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe put to music.   While its certainly dated at this point, I still vividly recall many of the songs on it.

Rich Mullins, whose life was tragically cut short after getting hi by a car, was also a factor around my house.

My dad also had a deep love of classical music.  Handel, Bach, Tchaikovsky, and Mozart among others.

This lead me to miss most of the wave of 80s music.  I don't consider this a bad thing as I can now appreciate some 80s music, that decade was pretty terrible for music as a whole.  A lot of virtuosity that was supposed to cover up terrible songwriting and stuck in the era studio tricks.   (I feel that the best of the 80s is some of the greatest music ever made while the bulk of 80s music should be forgotten or at least put up as a warning to future generations.)

So, music was a big part of my life.

Sadly, I fought piano lessons.  Something I regret to this day.  I hated practicing, so I didn't, so I didn't get any better.   Its unfortunate as I'd give anything to have that skill now.

Because it was "safe" much of my introduction to popular music was in the Christian realm.  I started listening to contemporary top 40 pop around 1991.  Like any other 6th grader I'd tape the radio and had a collection of all sorts of (terrible) pop hits.

When it came to actually buying music, my parents let me join BMG and I quickly accumulated a collection of greatest hits of the likes of Steppenwolf (my metal roots), CCR, ZZ Top (I had no idea what most of the songs were about).  Unlike many of my classmates I didn't get dozens of albums that I regret now.  (Crash Test Dummies anyone?)

I did get more than a few that still sit on my shelf and I look at and laugh, but there is a connection to them.  A connection to a time of innocence when everything was simple and clear and black and white.  I'm not saying it was a better time as I was not the most empathetic kid to those who I felt had brought their issues upon them.  But there is something about simplicity.

It was around my 7th grade when I started expanding my musical horizons.  That year I discovered both Meatloaf and Audio Adrenaline.  Both would figure heavily in my musical expansion in the future.

Discipline

Its lunch at work and I'm wanting to go home.  Right now, I'm all motivated thinking "Oooh, when I get home, I'll get a good, quick workout in before supper.  It'll be awesome."

Yet, I know that as soon as I get in my car to drive home, that desire will wane.  I'll think how easy it would be to just get home and relax, not do anything productive. 

Its Friday, you're still sore from the previous 2 days, you can do more on Saturday.

My brain has an unlimited supply of excuses to do nothing but sit on my ass and veg.  I'm working on training my brain, but its tough.  Its always been tough for me.

Throughout my life even things I really love its been hard for me to stick with them for extended periods of time. I dive in whole hog, go like mad for a bit, then get distracted, burnt out, or hit a hard spot and quit.

(That's a personal motto of mine, "When the going gets tough, quit!")

There's a variety of reasons for this.  Some of them are even legit.  Most are just excuses though.  

I keep saying I want to focus on some things in my life and get good at them.  

Writing, I love to write.  You'll see bits of my fiction tossed up here from time to time.  (Usually just written in one sitting with minor editing to use as story generators later on.)  

Guitar, I love music.  I have little natural aptitude for guitar, but I could be much better than I am if I just stuck with practicing and improving.  

And then the one that so many Americans say, "Get in shape."

Its just difficult for me to force myself to have the discipline to do these things on a regular, ongoing basis.  Partly because there is no real negative for me not doing them.  Nothing more than "oh, I didn't complete something again."   That's been par for the course since I was a kid, it doesn't phase me.

Laziness certainly plays a part in this.  As does perfectionism in a weird way.  I can't live up to the arbitrary high standard I set for myself, so why even try?  

Stupid? Yup.

Simple to change?  Ugh, not so much.  

Guldan's vision went red, his hand flew to his throat.  Feeling his hot blood flowing over his fingers, his right hand reflexively slung his sword, sparks flew as it blocked the rusted orc blade.

Attempting to keep pressure on the wound, Guldan felt his strength failing, his vision fading to a black point. 

His body shook. An earthquake?

A voice called from afar, "Guldan, GULDAN!" Urgent, insistent.  He looked for who called his name, his eyes refused to work.   

Head spinning, Guldan fought to retain consciousness....

"By the God's!," Guldan sat bolt upright in bed.   Sweat coated his body, sheets damp, beard soaked.

He twitched as Melwyr leaped from the bed to the end table and hissed at him.   Guldan shuddered and realized his hand lay on the jagged scar running from his throat to his ear.  The tissue, long healed, felt hard and rough.  

"Die again tonight did you," Melwyr asked, sitting on the night stand, chewing at his front claws.

"What? Ah, no.  I mean, yes.  I...uhhh," Guldan flopped back against his pillow, exhaling heavily.

"You were there, you know."

Silence, the only sound Melwyr's teeth against his claws.

"I know a certain beardless dwarf who should be dead if not for the greatest wizard of an age at his side," the cat's green eyes glowed in the dim light.  He blinked and went back to working on his toes.

"Faugh.  How great are you if you've been trapped as a cat for five years," Guldan shuddered, the knowledge of his death weighing heavily on him.

That night, that horrible long night, would never leave him.  He was a dead.  Not living.  Ended.  And then, he was alive, gasping for air, his neck and face throbbing in pain.  His eyes burned as blood, his blood, clouded his vision.

Melwyr paused his preening.

"I suppose the next time you find yourself in the Grey Realm you can stay then," the cat blinked then curled up in a small gray ball.

Sighing Guldan sat up in the bed, scratching the cat behind his ears.

"Sorry old friend.  That was cruel of me.   I thank you for my life, and will do whatever I can to restore you to yours."

Purring, Melwyr said nothing for moments.   

Finally, quietly, he whispered, "I understand, hubris brings us all to places we can't imagine."

He settled his chin on his paws and closed his eyes, falling asleep in moments.

Envious, Guldan gazed at the furry form, sides, slowly sweeping in and out with each breath.  Laying back on the rough homespun cloth pillow he sighed.  

It'd been five years since he died.  Four years since his friend and companion had been transformed into a cat.  He felt no closer to being truly alive than he did when he first awoke.   He was no closer to finding Melwyr a path to humanity again.   

Eyes damp, but not with tears, no, it must be the straw of the mattress, Guldan closed his eyes.  He refused to weep, but sleep was a long time in coming.

My Bicycle

Speaking of riding my bike, let me tell you about the beautiful work of art I have the privilege of riding.  

Well, let me go back even farther.  Take you on a tour of my history with bikes.  

I learned to ride on a little miniature cycle when I was 5 or 6.  I never had training wheels as it was pretty hard to fall off even for a kid.  That lasted for maybe a year before I got my first "REAL" bike.

It was some no name monstrosity.  It was a single speed BMX style frame, pedal back brakes, weird curved handle bars.   I vaguely remember going to get it in our Toyota Corona station wagon.  I have no idea how much my parents paid for it, but given how poor we were back then, anything was dear.

That bike served me until I was in 6th grade when I got a Schwinn mountain bike.  This was 1991 before mountain bikes were everywhere and before Schwinn became a bit of a joke (well, again.)  21 speeds, yes TWENTY ONE FLIPPING SPEEDS!  It wasn't top of the line, but it was a $400 bike in the early 90s.  It was pretty nice.

I loved riding.  Mostly I'd bomb around the gravel roads at our house outside of town.  I'd ride up into town to play with friends.  It was awesome.  

When I was 14 I was old enough to go on our church's bike trip.  The ride is three and a half days of ~70 miles, 90 miles, 100 miles and 45 miles across Illinois and Indiana back roads.

What did I do?  I put slightly less knobby tires and rolled away.  I had a blast!  Two years of that on my mountain bike and I decided it was time for something with skinny tires.

I picked up a steel framed Giant for a little over $300.  It was light blue, whatever was below Shimano105 components in 1996.  It was a dream!  I could go so fast, it was so easy, oh what I had been missing out on!

I of course had to buy aero bars and clipless pedals (which incidentally "click" when you lock into them) which contributed to my first crash.  Aero bars are stupid unless you're doing triathlons or time trials.  They were quickly scrapped after that mishap.

Like every good 17 year old I wanted my senior pictures taken with my bike.  They were horrible (I mean, just flat out gawdawful) and to top it off, we drove the car into the garage with my bike on top of it.  Crumpled the frame.  (Its a tribute to Yakima racks as the rack wasn't phased a bit.)  

I was devastated!  My beloved bicycle!  Its dead!

Fortunately the guy who co-sponsored the church ride with my dad had a spare Trek frame lying about.  We swapped over my parts and I was rolling around on an Aluminum Trek 1100.  I hated that thing.   Light weight but rough as hell ride.   I still rode a ton, but it wasn't the same.  

I'm supposed to ride a STEEL horse dammit. And not one of the motor powered ones.  

After a year on the cobbled together bike the guy who sold me the frame was "upgrading."  He was getting himself a titanium Lightspeed and was selling his ride.  Was I interested?

WAS I interested??  YES PLEASE!

The ride he was selling was a custom Waterford 1200.  Reynold's steel lugged frame.  Campagnolo crankset, Shimano 105 derailleurs, Sun Rims.  I jumped at the chance.  

$900 later, my baby was mine.  MINE MINE MINE!  All MINE!  

Waterford is a custom bike shop.  They used to make high end Schwinn Paramounts amongst other things but during Schwinn's financial troubles bought themselves out and started making things under their own name.  Their stuff is top notch and beautiful.  

A few thousand miles later she's still rolling good.   But, rekindling my love also means I feel the need to give her some new parts.

I'm seriously wanting to put a whole new drivetrain on her.  I want Campagnolo, but I don't know if I can afford it.

No matter what, next year, I'm going to be rolling on the frame, but entirely new chain rings and gears.  

I want to ride my bicycle...

I'm sick of the rain.  Its been cold, cloudy, and rainy here for days.

Now, I know what you're thinking, "Its April, of course its going to be rainy."  I understand that.  But its really been rainy.  And did I mention cold?

I'm sick of it.  While our winter wasn't harsh its just sort of drug on, being cold and gray from November until now with only brief respite.

Am I whining?

Oh yeah.

But, I swear, I have a legitimately good reason for it! Honest!

I'm loving my bike again.

Now, don't get me wrong, I've loved cycling since I started seriously when I was 14, but the past decade or more I haven't really done it much.

Oh, I'd log a couple hundred miles at least a year, but since I got fat, I didn't ride all that much.  When most of your riding was done between 120-150lbs and suddenly you're 200+ pounds its a WHOLE lot harder.

Over the past 7 months I've lost about 25 pounds.  Its amazing how that has made a difference.  Being out on my bike is FUN again.

I look forward to it when I get home from work.

I MISS it on days like today when I can't get out for a ride.

The best will be how it helps me keep losing weight.  I figure if it feels this good at 190, how good will it feel at 170?

As Freddy Mercury once sang, "Get on your bikes and RIDE!"

On Being Neurotic: Work

If I post enough, you'll quickly learn I'm moderately neurotic.   Now, that doesn't make me special, I'm convinced most people are, its more in how we deal with it.  

But, I am.  My head is a constant cacophony of self-doubt, pretty much all the time.  Its fun.

Anyway, I work as a wage slave in a Ford dealer's parts department.  If you need parts for your Ford, hit me up.  Yes, I'm serious on this, I'll hook you up with as good a deal as I can.

I had been driving and working the counter when not in the truck.  Hourly pay + commission off total parts gross.  I had no complaints about anything really.

However, my buddy decided to leave.  Long story, old boss got fired, new boss has little clue what he's doing, got lied to, er, promised, as good a deal at a new place.  Sucks, BUT I got to take his spot.

Now, I'm counter full time working first of all with our body shop, next with our techs, then with wholesale and retail customers.

Pay is now salary + commission off gross of what I sell.  So, now the pressure isn't just to try and make the department money, its to make ME money, which makes the department money.

Now, I work next to a veteran guy.  Been in the biz for years.  Knows his stuff.  Is also completely burnt out.  (Works about 70 hours a week between his two jobs.  He's like 62.  Totally burnt out.)

So, when the techs come to the counter, seriously, this is something I obsess about, I worry that I try and help them too fast.

Yes, I worry I am being TOO helpful at my job.

I don't want to look like I'm just being greedy.  But if I'm not doing anything more than reading the news, or on GAB or something, I'm not going to finish that before I help someone who's 1) trying to make money for themselves and 2) can potentially make me money.

But seriously, this is something that concerns me.  I don't want my coworker to think I'm just grabbing all the money.  I also don't think the techs should stand there waiting on us to finish reading our article before we help them.

I'm digging my new spot for the most part, but I really hope I can find a balance here.  I purposely am "slow" on helping the guys sometimes just to make sure he gets some extra shots.

I know its not my place to worry about him, but I'd prefer to keep things harmonious.

Ah well.   I'll just be happy when my first commission check shows up next month.

New Blog...Surreality of Modern Life

Why a new blog?  

Why not.  My old blog is cluttered with all sorts of things.  Its more personal and family oriented anyway.   

So here, under my normal moniker, is a new blog for anyone who cares and those who don't as well.

Yesterday, 4/15/13 was a surreal day.  It seemed normal, like most days that become infamous.  On my lunch I quick rushed to the post office to mail out an intermediate shaft I sold on eBay.  On the way back to my job I listened to NPR which was discussing the Boston Marathon.

The male and female winners were the topic of discussion.  The male race was very close, I believe an Ethiopian edged out a Kenyan by about 5 seconds.   The female race wasn't as close as recent years, but still was competitive.  

Then, an hour or so later I hear the news, an explosion had happened at the Boston Marathon.  It was surreal.  I'd just been listening to live updates from the marathon.  Now there's bombs?  People are dead and maimed?  What the hell?

Mostly, I just felt sickened and numb.  I'm not a big fan of humanity.  I often joke about hoping for a killshot meteor, and while I'm not that misanthropic to be serious, its difficult for me to get out of my haze of negativity.  

Don't get me wrong, there were heroes yesterday.  There are heroes everyday.  There are millions of people all this world over doing amazing things for those they know and those they don't know.

However, I still feel as a whole humanity pretty much sucks.  I digress.

My heart goes out to the victims.  My head tries to fathom the twisted mind(s) that could do this sort of thing.      And I'm also living in an age of instant everything.  People want instant answers.  Everyone (me included) has instant opinions.

That's not necessarily a bad thing in some ways.  But life is complex.  Life is difficult.  Life isn't neat and tidy. Life tends not to package things up neatly.

We have no idea who these terrorists are.   It could be a single guy.  It could be a group.  It could be foreign terrorists.  It could be homegrown (much more likely btw.)  It could be Islamists, far right radicals, or anarchists.  We simply don't know.  

I hope we catch the killers.  I hope they get locked away forever.  Forever being until whatever group in their prison decides to finish what I feel our government isn't qualified to do.

So, my condolences to the victims and a giant sad headshake towards the world.