About the end of March my car was making the most evil racket. I couldn't figure what could possibly be wrong. The worst part was the poor handling. It wasn't bad when accellerating or braking but coasting was unbearable. The car would jump arl over the road. It was kind a scary. Finally I'd had enough and I have no idea why but I decided to check the lugs. I didn't have a wrench so I just checked them with my fingers. And one of them I was able to unscrew?! with my my fingers at that point I decided not to drive my car any forther without correcting that little problem
It seems that when I got new tires the people putting them on, may have forgotten to tighten those when they put the new tire on. Luckily it was just that one tire.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Cookies in the Parkinglot
Theres a little bar about 5 miles out of town an the corner of a paved road and a gravel road. Jared, a friend of mine, lives several miles up that gravel road from the bar.
Tonight as I was going to visit Jared, I slowed down for this corner. I noticed there was some old snow pack on the end of the gravel, but didn't think much of it. I made the corner off the pavement and began to accelerate. I heard the rear tires spin. I watched with surprice and fear as my car spun around on this little patch of snow pack. My headlights illuminating the bar and the cars in the parkinglot then the road and the cornfield on the otherside, around and around...
Eventually, I came to a stop facing the intersection I had just pulled off of. Since I was already at the bar, I figured i'd just step in for a beer. And try to stopp shaking.
Tonight as I was going to visit Jared, I slowed down for this corner. I noticed there was some old snow pack on the end of the gravel, but didn't think much of it. I made the corner off the pavement and began to accelerate. I heard the rear tires spin. I watched with surprice and fear as my car spun around on this little patch of snow pack. My headlights illuminating the bar and the cars in the parkinglot then the road and the cornfield on the otherside, around and around...
Eventually, I came to a stop facing the intersection I had just pulled off of. Since I was already at the bar, I figured i'd just step in for a beer. And try to stopp shaking.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Old Age
The other night I was playing cards with Rick and the boys, when Lisa walked in. She's an eyeful, absolutely beautiful young lady. But she looks like she's in her late forties though shes only twenty-seven. I couldn't believe how old she looks. Still beautiful but old.
I remember when she came to to live with her dad, twelve years old, red/black hair. Her parents were divorced. Her dad a recovering alcoholic, worked eighty hours a week to provide for her and her siblings. They were a wild bunch. Lived on a ten acre patch of land with a few old outbuildings and a delapidated little house with a caving in foundation. All the neighbors organized a work be to rebuild the foundation. I remember think it was the most rundown place I'd ever seen.
By the time Lisa was sixteen she had had two miscarriages, and declared herself a lesbian. Then the year she graduated highschool she got married to a guy who hooked her on meth, cocaine and other drugs. They had a kid that had withdrawal in the hospital upon delivery from al sorts of crap. Social Service took custody before she was released from the hospital. She fought em but couldn't stay clean long enough to pass a urine drug test.
She met up with another guy, who started taking her to church. She got pregnant, had another child with this fellow. She was baptized. She got clean, got custody of her other kid, and married this guy.
Things seemed pretty good. They had been married for six months when Lisa's husband put her in ICU for two months. Social Services took the kids, again. One of the stipulations for getting her kids back this time was legally seperating from her abuser. She divorced him, before she got out of the hospital and moved back in with her dad.
Now she's livng on her own again. shes got custody of both her kids. But man, she looks old. I just can't get over that.
I remember when she came to to live with her dad, twelve years old, red/black hair. Her parents were divorced. Her dad a recovering alcoholic, worked eighty hours a week to provide for her and her siblings. They were a wild bunch. Lived on a ten acre patch of land with a few old outbuildings and a delapidated little house with a caving in foundation. All the neighbors organized a work be to rebuild the foundation. I remember think it was the most rundown place I'd ever seen.
By the time Lisa was sixteen she had had two miscarriages, and declared herself a lesbian. Then the year she graduated highschool she got married to a guy who hooked her on meth, cocaine and other drugs. They had a kid that had withdrawal in the hospital upon delivery from al sorts of crap. Social Service took custody before she was released from the hospital. She fought em but couldn't stay clean long enough to pass a urine drug test.
She met up with another guy, who started taking her to church. She got pregnant, had another child with this fellow. She was baptized. She got clean, got custody of her other kid, and married this guy.
Things seemed pretty good. They had been married for six months when Lisa's husband put her in ICU for two months. Social Services took the kids, again. One of the stipulations for getting her kids back this time was legally seperating from her abuser. She divorced him, before she got out of the hospital and moved back in with her dad.
Now she's livng on her own again. shes got custody of both her kids. But man, she looks old. I just can't get over that.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Which is better?
Boarding school or controlled residential learning environment?
Just put your opinion in the comments section of this post.
Thank you and have a nice life.
Just put your opinion in the comments section of this post.
Thank you and have a nice life.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Motivation
I had a friend at one of the boarding schools I attended, one time. Dan spent his free time figuring out how to avoid dealing with people. He complained that his biggest flaw was he didn't understand why people did things. "It maybe alright for squirrels and sponges to not grasp humans, but humans really should understand other humans."
Dan and I roomed together for a semester, once. I think the same name confused the administration. My friends just had to get used to his being there. He slept in my recliner. He spent hours reading psychology books. Every once in a while, he'd ask me, "Why does X do Y in Z situation? Doesn't X realize that regardless the number of times situation Z comes up Y will always result in T? If I was doing Y in situation Z and getting T, I'd definitely change something."
I had to, at these times, reply that person A and Person B will when setting up situation Z have very different results in mind: A may actually have T in mind; while B may be thinking about sex.
"Oh. Well, are there not distinctions between how A and B set up situation Z that X might recognize?"
That was the general idea of most of our conversations. In my opinion Dan was really unmotivated. He never understood the point of understanding others or doing things that would motivate others for a specific goal. He had no specific goals and could not conceive how others might indeed have goals. His school work was done by half, he couldn't figure out why they assigned homework. "If I ace the test, I should pass the class, right?"
More often than not, I just had to shake my head. Dan would work many hours a week, a lot of all night jobs, and sleep in class. When a teacher woke him up and asked him a question, he made that teacher's class period miserable. So, teachers let him sleep through their classes, rather than endure his particular brand of why questions.
Most people just ask "Why? Why? Why?" Dan would ask in-depth questions regarding the underlying theories of the study in the subject they happened to be teaching. It was quite comon of him to reduce ideas to variables and constants and label them with a letter, a word, a phrase, or a symbol.
Dan was annoying, but he had a sense of humor and was good at spotting flaws in a plan. Which may have contributed to his complete unmotivation: He could clearly see the possible problems with both undesired and desired results and consequences. Maybe if he could not foresee the conflicts far in advance, he would have been more motivated. But he always would find the drawbacks of any plan and decide that the disadvantages of any plan always outweighed the advantages. To continue, as he was, was better than a change. "Changes are 50% to the worse." He'd say, "I don't like those odds."
The whole point of my existence for that semester was getting Dan to make spur of the moment decisions that he could then "repent of at leisure." I had fun. Once, I spoke to him about going to a beer party in a different county, the day of, at lunch. He figured out how to get out of the dorm, off campus, he had a ride, everything; in just four hours. After our last class, he laid out his plans to two other guys and me. It was brilliant. The only problem was Dan got a changed early work assignment that morning. We got in and were walking from our room to the bathroom when the RA saw us. They had been looking for Dan for an hour.
We came up with a very lame excuse, I can't remember what it was now, but we stuck to it. Dan said, "Never change a story. A lame excuse, if maintained, may be better than a good excused?" Dan's punishment was he wasn't allowed to work for a week. Mine was more of a normal punishment, I don't remember what. But Dan bitches about that punishment, probably still. I've never met someone less happy about not being able to go to work.
Dan and I roomed together for a semester, once. I think the same name confused the administration. My friends just had to get used to his being there. He slept in my recliner. He spent hours reading psychology books. Every once in a while, he'd ask me, "Why does X do Y in Z situation? Doesn't X realize that regardless the number of times situation Z comes up Y will always result in T? If I was doing Y in situation Z and getting T, I'd definitely change something."
I had to, at these times, reply that person A and Person B will when setting up situation Z have very different results in mind: A may actually have T in mind; while B may be thinking about sex.
"Oh. Well, are there not distinctions between how A and B set up situation Z that X might recognize?"
That was the general idea of most of our conversations. In my opinion Dan was really unmotivated. He never understood the point of understanding others or doing things that would motivate others for a specific goal. He had no specific goals and could not conceive how others might indeed have goals. His school work was done by half, he couldn't figure out why they assigned homework. "If I ace the test, I should pass the class, right?"
More often than not, I just had to shake my head. Dan would work many hours a week, a lot of all night jobs, and sleep in class. When a teacher woke him up and asked him a question, he made that teacher's class period miserable. So, teachers let him sleep through their classes, rather than endure his particular brand of why questions.
Most people just ask "Why? Why? Why?" Dan would ask in-depth questions regarding the underlying theories of the study in the subject they happened to be teaching. It was quite comon of him to reduce ideas to variables and constants and label them with a letter, a word, a phrase, or a symbol.
Dan was annoying, but he had a sense of humor and was good at spotting flaws in a plan. Which may have contributed to his complete unmotivation: He could clearly see the possible problems with both undesired and desired results and consequences. Maybe if he could not foresee the conflicts far in advance, he would have been more motivated. But he always would find the drawbacks of any plan and decide that the disadvantages of any plan always outweighed the advantages. To continue, as he was, was better than a change. "Changes are 50% to the worse." He'd say, "I don't like those odds."
The whole point of my existence for that semester was getting Dan to make spur of the moment decisions that he could then "repent of at leisure." I had fun. Once, I spoke to him about going to a beer party in a different county, the day of, at lunch. He figured out how to get out of the dorm, off campus, he had a ride, everything; in just four hours. After our last class, he laid out his plans to two other guys and me. It was brilliant. The only problem was Dan got a changed early work assignment that morning. We got in and were walking from our room to the bathroom when the RA saw us. They had been looking for Dan for an hour.
We came up with a very lame excuse, I can't remember what it was now, but we stuck to it. Dan said, "Never change a story. A lame excuse, if maintained, may be better than a good excused?" Dan's punishment was he wasn't allowed to work for a week. Mine was more of a normal punishment, I don't remember what. But Dan bitches about that punishment, probably still. I've never met someone less happy about not being able to go to work.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Alone
For the first time in my living memory. I am alone. I don't like it. I would prefer almost anything to this. Sadness and depression seem to be my only companions. They're not much fun.
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