WARNING: POLITICS.

It's winding down, everybody. McCain and Palin vs. Obama and Biden. November 4th. For me, it's been almost too much. At the beginning of the primaries, I was excited about the elections. Both candidates acted honorably, and it seemed like the elections were going to be held in a respectful, positive manner. They demonstrated quite a lot of respect for each other at the time, and, to be perfectly honest, they still do. In one of the most memorable moments of his campaign, McCain took the microphone away from a woman who was convinced Obama was a muslim, and he set the record straight. Biden defended McCain, reminding crowds that the both of them were good friends, and that McCain does have a history of acting against the views of the republican party.
But these are little flashes, popping up here and there, then disappearing, forgotten in a sea of brutal attack ads. Personally, I find these ads almost too much to bear. There's too much hate, and it's only getting harder as the respective campaigns race onwards.

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Now playing: Chuck Berry - Down Bound Train (Single Version)
via FoxyTunes

My job.

On Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday, I wake up at about seven AM, get dressed, get my cereal, take my pills, and get in the car. In the car, I ride down to the Pomona fairplex, show my ID, and walk in. I walk over to my area, walk into one of the little buildings, and change into my pirate outfit. I'M A FUCKING PIRATE. I honestly cannot imagine a job more awesome than mine. I talk pirate, I waltz about with my big pirate hat, and I teach knots that I could tie with my eyes closed. When there aren't any other people around, my boss tells me to grab one of the plastic swords, and have a swordfight with my brother, to build up interest in the area. We did this the other day, and one of the little kids actually said "pirate fight!". We got a whole crowd going, and we fought until the flimsy plastic sword I was using broke. We're getting another, though. Every time I think about what I do, I get overly excited inside. It's like some kind of six year old's dream job!

The nature of friendship.

Tonight, I've learned an awful lot about friendship, but mostly, I've learned that there are several kinds of friends. There are friends who will sit with you during the good times, but ignore you during the bad. There are friends who will sit with you during the good times, and some of the bad times, but not all of the bad times. There are friends who complain about the bad times during the good times. But then, there's always one friend who will sit with you throughout the whole journey. You can call them in the middle of the night, and talk to them for hours, and you'll do the same for them. They'll cry with you, and you'll cry with them. They're with you the whole way, a full package friendship. These friendships are the most beautiful things possible.
Tonight, I lost a friendship, and I don't blame them for no longer wanting to be my friend. When things get bad, I whine to my friends. I turn into a big, fat crybaby. I bitch to everyone who will listen. This person was sick and tired of it, and told me that I could no longer bring my problems to them. And they were right. I realized that I had to deal with problems on my own. I'm not angry at them for telling this to me. I'm angry that they did not tell me sooner, but that's not necessarily the point.
However, I also realized that I had a friendship that was incredibly precious and valuable to me. He went to a party with me, and he knew exactly how I felt, knew everything about what I was seeing and how it was affecting me, and when I needed to talk to somebody about it, he was there. Later, when he needed to talk to me, I was there for him. I realized that this friendship I had was stronger than I had ever thought, that I had somehow not noticed it over the years, not noticing how it grew stronger by leaps and bounds.
Thank you, Thomas Vincent Pratt IV. This is a rambling, unintelligible blog post, but I mean every single word. Thank you so, so much.

Psychowhat?

I've always viewed musical taste as a path, a journey. A quest, almost. I started out listening to classic rock from the seventies and sixties in my dad's old corvette, and it became the soundtrack of my early life. Pretty soon, I was spending my allowance at Rhino Records, buying music for myself. I can still remember the first album I ever bought, Past Masters Vol. 1 by The Beatles. I played it until I almost knew the whole thing by heart. Then I bought Vol. 2, and entered the Beatles phase of my life. I bought or borrowed eleven albums in all, and they're still played when I'm in the mood. For quite a time, things were good. I bought Beatles albums, and occasionally delved into other artists from my childhood, like the Beach Boys, Frank Sinatra, and Elvis Presley.

Then I saw Pulp Fiction, and everything changed. The opening song, Miserlou, by Dick Dale and the Del Tones, was suddenly the direction I wanted to go in. Heavy reverbs, beach guitar, and comparatively fast riffs. The Beatles were nice, they had great music, but this, this is what I didn't know I wanted. And for quite a while, I suffered. The boys at Rhino Records, great though they were, had little idea of what I was talking about. When I asked about beach and surf rock, I was always pointed to the Beach Boys, which sounded almost nothing like Dick Dale. I went in all directions at this point, delving into harder seventies rock, like AC/DC, the Doors, and others.

Finding beach rock was a stroke of luck. My brother had told me about the Pandora Project, but I hadn't given it much heed until I thought about it in conjunction with my musical dilemma. On a whim, I entered "Miserlou" into the search box, hit enter, and found an entire world of music. It was everything I wanted, everything I needed. They played their songs exactly the way I wanted, and I loved it. Hava Nagila. Jet Black. Bumble Bee Stomp. Rampage. I was in heaven for a long, long time. And then, luck struck again. Pandora had plucked Love Generator, by the Guana Batz, and I was introduced to the beautiful world of psychobilly music. And again, the recording industry worked against me. Rhino Records had a few surf rock albums, buried in the oldies, but they had no psychobilly. I had to hit itunes to find what I wanted, and again, I bathed myself in the music I had longed for. The Guana Batz, The Nekromantix, Demented Are Go....

Damn, it's been a while since I said anything. Let's update, eh?

1. Got a job working at the boy scout store in Ontario.
2. Cracked my head open. Hilarity ensued.
3. Got a girlfriend, partially as a result of my hilarious head injury.
4. Got fired from job at scout store.
5. Got diagnosed with depression.
6. Girlfriend broke up with me.
7. Worked about six weeks at Camp Emerson. Hijinks and hilarity ensue.
   
8. During the work season, I started taking an antidepressant medication as per prescribed, and it may or may not be fucking with my sleeping habits and digestive system. More hijinks and hilarity.
   
9. Came home.

This puts me fairly effectively back at square one, except I'm about seven hundred bucks richer, and I'm on antidepressants. Damn.


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Now playing: Nekromantix - Life Is A Grave & I Dig It
via FoxyTunes

An experiment.

So, I decided to conduct a little experiment last night. I wanted to see what was happening in the world, and see if it was good or bad, generally speaking. Fifteen minutes later, I'm almost sobbing. Good god, what's wrong with us? What's wrong with humanity? Can't we get along? Please. There was only one or two articles that actually made me happy, if only for a moment. To anyone reading this, I ask you, plead to you, beg of you. Be good, be nice, treat your fellow men and women with respect. Care about others. Please. The world has become an ugly, hateful place, but I know we haven't forgotten how to love. I'm begging you. Don't rape, don't kill, don't stomp each other. Don't steal precious things from each other. Don't blow each other to pieces with missiles. Don't kill kangaroos. Don't kidnap little nine year olds. Don't shoot each other to pieces. Don't torture your fellow man. Please. This is a fraction of what I found. The world needs us, needs good people. It's up to us to make the world a good place.

Gaaaah.

I finally have a job, but it tends to alternate between two states: long periods of boredom, which are suddenly interrupted by seemingly endless streams of Boy Scout moms. I like it well enough, it's better than being jobless, but, being the new guy in a store full of comparative veterans, it also embarrasses me on a fairly regular basis. First of all, I hate checks. Cash is better, credit cards best of all, but checks, I hate. I haven't quite gotten the hang of writing all that information on the checks, and sometimes I have to ask for help from co-workers. Other than constantly and consistently humiliating me, though, I've got nothing else to complain about. School's okay. It's pretty dull, but I'm willing to bet it just hasn't picked up speed yet. However, the one thing in my life that well and truly bugs me is the amount of couples. Almost nobody is single. Almost everyone has someone, a boyfriend or girlfriend. And furthermore, the single girls either don't interest me, or intimidate the hell out of me. Gaaaaaaah!