[Ain’t] Nobody gonna slow me down
Whoa no!
I got to keep on movin’
[The mariachi version I much prefer. Unfortunately, my Espanol is insufficient to properly translate it].
This week will prolly be a bit rough… prolly. I’m not going to let it phase me though. Happy will be my mood state; it is my decision.
Yesterday night I had much frustration to vent:
1) Alleged back taxes the state of Oregon department of Revenue believes that I owe it for the 3 months I worked in California before moving to Portland in 2002.
2) Portland fire department charging me for a fire inspection that they performed in, what is now, my practice space more than a year before my occupancy.
3) Measuring and sorting 3 gigs of data that I collected over the past three years so that my boss can analyze it after my departure.
4) Several pieces of equipment in the lab that have failed for various reasons (mostly spontaneous in nature) within the past month.
5) Steady influx of medical bills for tests that I had a few months ago. Most of the bills don’t even include an explanation/justification of the charges. And, after all those tests, I’m not one iota better off than I had been before them.
It’s a good thing I have loud things to pound on on a regular basis. Sometimes I think, that without them, I’d resort to pounding on people.
My pent up frustration fueled a series furious syncopated beats the likes of which few other bands, especially one band in particular that practices on the other side of the wall, can even come close to emulating. My band, Clap Amp, generates 100% raw, and primarily improvisational, noise for which we make no apologies. We’re crass, we’re base and we pride ourselves on mocking musical convention (…what an original claim that is). Several times last night, the entire studio floor, the walls on which, ordinarily contoring under the strain of heavy vibration generated by three or four separate bands in simultaneous practice, fell silent to Clap Amp’s grooves. Don’t get me wrong. I make no claim that Clap Amp is the best band on the block in the traditional sense. However, whatever we may lack in ability, we more than make up for in enthusiasm.
Friggin’ spreadsheets have sucked out all of my eye-juice. I can’t write a good post right now… too distracted, and too brain-numbed. The only way to work is to singly devote my brain to attention and nothing more. Creativity causes disturbs my systematicity.
When I’m nervous I attempt to use big words. I say “attempt” because I often use big words with different actual meanings than what I intend to convey.
My prospective replacement is interviewing this morning and I made the above bad word choice. I don’t think she noticed, but all the same I feel like such the dipshit. Giving interviews, for me, is much harder than being interviewed.
Plus, as further proof that God really does hate my ass, the first computer I switched on this morning, to show our interviewee the programs that I’ve developed in support of my much touted-by-boss technical prowess, hard-drive crashed like a motherfuckin’ bastard. What are the odds that on this particular morning, out of the hundreds of times I’ve walked in and turned the muv on in the same manner, coupled with the fact that the sum’bitch was running fine two days ago, that the FUCKER crash. I’m not superstitious but GOLLY!
Yesterday, I needed to prove to myself that I’m not as out of shape as I think I am and alternatively, that two years back I was not the ubermench my nostalgia tricks me into thinking I was. To do that I decided I would attempt my old “Agony Run” in reverse (SE 20th to 60th and back via Salmon, Belmont, and Stark). Even though I experienced about 120% agony during my run yesterday, I figure that, in comparison to my true “Agony Run” that starts at 60th, yesterday’s was not of equal difficulty since, by starting at 20th, the first half of the run was uphill, as opposed to the actual version where the uphill portion happens during the second half.
One good thing, for which I must credit my job, is that, provided I’m caught up with work and I have enough vacation time in reserve, I can take off days to replenish my morale. In grad school I will not be so fortunate.
These images ‘move’ without animation. Happy nauseum!!!
I went back to Woodland CA this weekend to visit my family, and the last of my friends that have stuck it out there amidst prohibitively high rent, rampant conservatism and an almost complete lack of interesting things to do. Friday night turned out to be a warm, clear night (I’m used to Portland weather now so I’m easy to impress) so I decided to setup my telescope in my Dad’s backyard and took a looksee at what, I thought was Venus, and a few consellations. After that I went relaxed in the hot tub. Believe me, I did not enjoy such lavish living growing up… For the first time in his professional life, my Dad’s company has actually been able to generate surplus revenue for more than two consecutive years. What does my Dad do with this spare money? Buy toys.
My girlfriend Jane went with me this trip. My family loves her. I think they enjoy seeing her more than they do me.
I have a fairly nice bike that, prior to this visit, never made its way to Portland. So, while I was there, I broke it down, put it in a box so it could be flown back to P-town with me. My Dad took to riding my bike after I moved, and while riding it one day, the rear tire blew out on him which ended up bending the back rim a good inch out of center. If I want a bike with rear brakes I’m going to have to get the rim straightend. Otherwise my bike is rideable. I plan to ride, instead of drive around Portland this summer, during my time off.
The only real drama that took place during the entire weekend happened on Sac International airport on our way home. A Southwest baggage taker, after verifying with me that the contents of the 5’x3’x8″ double ply cardboard box that I had with me was, in fact, a bike, charged me $50 for it to be transported as baggage; we only had one other piece that we were checking in so I expected to be charged a maximum of $25 if the box turned out to be “oversized” by thier classification. Anyway, after his corpo-metrosexual ass repremanded me for having not put it in a hard case, he informed me that Southwest would not be liable for loss or damage.
“What the fuck are you going to do with it that requires a hard case and a transport fee of $50!?!… blast it into space? Shove your policy up your cornhole, fuckwipe!” I bit my tongue to keep from saying, to prevent my becoming the next outraged antagonist on TVs reality show “Airport”. The Southwest website stated a $25 fee for oversized baggage. I scowered the fuck out of thier site and didn’t find a G-darn thing about bikes being fiddy. Man, I wish I could be responsible for NOTHING and get paid for it. FuckASSes! (It made the trip ok though, so I’ll cease my rant in this otherwise happy post).