Friday, March 3, 2006, 08:15 AM - Stupid Criminals
Lemme tell ya: I *know* what it's like to be poor, desperate, and hungry. But not once in my life have I ever begged. I've worked two jobs, done odd jobs, and sold personal possessions when I've been broke. But I've *never* begged.
The reason I bring this up is that the inner harbor area of Baltimore has become something of a beggar's paradise. On my four-block walk from the parking garage to the courthouse, I get accosted by beggars at least once every day, and sometimes two or three times! They shamble up and make some incoherent entreaty for cash. And they don't want just spare change anymore. They want fivers!
Well, let me tell you about the "plight" of the homeless.l've been working at Pretrial services for three months now and *every* homeless defendant has had these factors in common: they are high school dropouts; they are heroin/cocaine junkies; they have lengthy criminal histories for assault, burglary, and drugs; they have no interest in getting off drugs; they have no interest in seeking employment.
I don't feel sorry for them. I won't give them a penny because I know they'll just use it for smack or blow. These wrecks of humanity just make me sick!
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( 3 / 1252 )Thursday, March 2, 2006, 09:15 PM - Cool Stuff
My partner has been trying to lose weight for the past five years because he is very heavy. I love him very much and his weight problem doesn't bother me, but I have been worried that his obesity will shorten his life.
Well, he's on a pretty comprehensive weight management program with Jenny Craig. After only a week, he lost 4 pounds. He wants to lose 50. So... he's 9% there after only 7 days. That is very, very cool!
I told him that if he loses 50 pounds, he can get a new car. Now, if I can only convince him to buy a hybrid!
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( 3 / 1332 )Wednesday, March 1, 2006, 11:09 AM - Drrruuggsss
My partner's sister is a completely useless leach. I don't use the word "useless" lightly, but I can't think of a better word.
She has apparently started using cocaine *again*. This is the third time she's gotten herself in trouble with dope. It's too bad she never gets an overdose.
The first time she became an addict, it drove my partner's father to suicide. The second time, she blew through her $30,000 inheritance in just 3 months. Lord knows what will happen this time. With dope dealers coming to her home on a regular basis, it just can't end well.
Aside from her dope problem, she uses her so-called disability as an excuse not to work. Her "disabilities" are depression and dyslexia. Gimme a break. I have dyslexia, depression, *and* a dissociative disorder, and I've never been unemployed for more than 48 hours since I was 13.
Her personality is also just plain nasty. She's greedy, cheap, lazy, cruel, hot-headed, violent, jealous, bigoted, and foul of mouth.
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( 3 / 2001 )Tuesday, February 28, 2006, 11:45 AM - nightmares
What I get really tired of is being haunted by someone who's not even dead! I still get nightmares about my father (I won't call him "dad" because that would imply an endearment that does not exist.)
In this dream, my father owned a *huge* mansion. I was some kind of servant in his household. My current task was hauling in the groceries and putting them away. I did so under my father's glowering stare.
One of the items was a bag of expensive mints. I opened the bag and emptied it into a silver bowl he used for holding candy.
Well... my father saw the empty candy bag and accused me of eating all the mints. I pointed at the tray and said, "no, they're in this bowl".
He responded by turning purple with rage and screaming, "You thief! You worthless, fat, son of a bi***"
I tried to explain that I really had just refilled the candy dish, but he wouldn't listen. He followed up with calling me a bastard, a faggot, and stupid. He claimed that I was too stupid to do *anything* right, no matter how simple the task. He screamed that my life would amount to nothing.
I left the mansion in disgrace -- even though I had done nothing wrong.
Outside, it was raining and growing dark. I had the motorcycle I owned back in high school still parked outside. I started it up and found that the headlight had burned out. I didn't care. I drove away in the gloom.
The dream ended.
The thing that sucked is that interactions like that happened in real life ALL THE TIME between my father and I. He would fly into a rage and hurl every demeaning curse he could think of at me. It didn't matter if, later on, it turned out that I was right and he was wrong. He never apologized for a single thing in his life.
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( 3.1 / 1314 )Monday, February 27, 2006, 07:08 PM - Cool Stuff
My website now has illustrations! Check out the "My Alters" section![ add comment ] | [ 0 trackbacks ] | permalink |
( 3 / 1518 )Sunday, February 26, 2006, 12:36 PM - Odd Dreams
Now, I've never been on a real train other than the Metro Light Rail. But last night's dream would certainly inspire me to give it a shot.
I'm not sure where we were actually headed, but the countryside looked sparse and rocky (definitely not Maryland) and the weather was sunny and warm. It had that Middle-of-nowhere look to it. Ashen was with me.
Well, with a screech and a huge cloud of dust, the train's mighty diesel engine failed, and the train ground to a halt. Ashen (dressed in black as always) said that word came down from the front of the train that an observer spotted some highwaymen approaching the train in Jeeps. Dust clouds on the horizon marked their approach. Imagine! A 21st Century train robbery!
It was then that Ashen pulled a huge suitcase from under the seat and opened it. Lo and behold! It was packed full of guns, rifles, and ammo. Yeah, Ashen packs smartly for trips. Ha ha ha!
In a matter of moments, everyone in the last train car had a rifle or handgun. I had a light, 22 cal pump-action rifle (probably because it's only kind of rifle I've shot in real life, heh heh).
The dream ended just as the highwaymen were coming into range. I focused my telescopic site on the helmet of one of the bandits. It was one of those old, green kind from a Military surplus shop. I was about to pull the trigger...
The dream ended. But win or lose, it looked like it was going to be one hell of a shootout!
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( 3.1 / 1516 )Friday, February 24, 2006, 03:30 PM - Dumb Happenings
I work in the 5th floor of a courthouse (as an investigator) and a really odd thing happened today. At 3:22 PM all the windows in the office started vibrating, and a low, stacatto beat played through the air. But wait! This is Maryland, not California! It wasn't an earthquake.
It was somebody's car stereo system running at full blast.
What I have to ask is this: how loudly did this dude have to play his stereo in order to make the windows in a 5th floor office start vibrating? Moreover, how did the sympathetic vibrations *not* tear this guy's car apart?! And if it was loud a block away, five flights up, and indoors, what would it be like to be a passenger in this guy's car?
So... My idea is this: people who go deaf by age 30 because they blast their stereos to 175 decibels should *not* get any subsidies from Medicare for hearing aids! Foooools!!!
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( 3 / 1172 )Wednesday, February 22, 2006, 04:09 PM - Cool Stuff
I have to admit that I'm pretty happy with my 2003 Civic Hybrid. After 3.5 years and 93,000 miles, it has only needed *three* repairs, and only one of the three jobs was hybrid-related. Even though my warranty ended at 80,000 miles, Honda still paid for the new catalytic converter because I had taken such good care of my car.
I would certainly buy from Honda again!
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( 3 / 1499 )Tuesday, February 21, 2006, 06:15 PM - Odd Dreams
So... I had this really weird dream in which I was still working for my old company and the boss wanted me to pick up a used car for the business (the one that is *out of businesses* don'cha know!) So I drove to this odd little car dealer to look at some cars on the cheap.
The lot was overgrown with all manner of shrubs and such. I think the main showroom used to host some other kind of business, because it was a bit small for cars. But in the main room was parked a strange old car from another time.
It was old, worn, but incredibly clean and maintained by a caring hand. It was some sort of green station wagon, with all-leather interior. Maybe it was a Ford? It was a pretty car, but I didn't know exactly what it was.
Here was where it got odd. A trap door opened in the showroom floor when I touched the door of the old car. I fell down a narrow chute into a totally *different* room. It was an abandoned floor of an office building. It wasn't exactly *dirty* but it was slightly dim and very dusty. The trouble was that I didn't exactly see a way out.
As I walked around, I realized that the "trap" floor was a *lot* bigger than the floor above me. The dream ended before I could find my way out, but I didn't get the impression that I was in any kind of *immediate* danger.
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( 3 / 1536 )Monday, February 20, 2006, 05:01 PM - Dumb Happenings
My brother and I had different dads, so he didn't experience the same abuse I did. What we sometimes fight about is the fact that his dad (when still living) basically gave him everything he ever wanted. I know that's a cliche, but anything his father could afford to give him, he did. My brother's father was also a very kind, good, and honest man. He worked an honest trade and was skillful at it.
Well, my brother turned 23 yesterday, and he has yet to hold down a job. He just leeches off mom for housing, food, and cash. Apparently, he sees himself as an "artist" because he has some modest talent on keyboards. He told me that he's too good for a job because he's so "artistic".
Lemme tell ya: an artist produces actual art. In the case of the musical arts, that means recording music and performing. My brother has been involved with exactly two bands. He dropped out both groups when they started getting regular work. I guess "artists" must not be asked to work...
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