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acid-reflex.com - stays crispy in milk

i tell ya how to cyclops rock
and then you go and turn around and break my heart
and then you go and waste my cyclops time
mess up my cyclops mind

they might be giants, "cyclops rock"


Excuse me...
... while I act like a proud parent for a minute. We just got our 200th registered user on The Forge, a project by Ron Edwards and myself.

I'm all about to burst and shit.
comment (8) - 2001-09-13 10:39:00

I'm sitting here reading rpg.net, among other sites, and seeing some of my closest friends battle it out. I'm seeing some of the most hate-filled bile I could imagine come out of people's mouths - and not all of it is directed towards terrorists. Quite a bit is directed against fellow Americans exercising their right to say what they think.

I say: don't let the attempted destruction of the American way destroy your friendships. In case you don't know it, I love you all, Josh, Peter and Mike. I think you three are some of the most special people I've met. I don't agree with all of you, but be calm and resolute in your convictions.

I haven't posted on any forums in order to avoid this phenomenon. I will say that I believe in reason, and not knee-jerk reactions. I believe a world in which violence can be avoided is a world we should strive for. However, I do believe something I saw today on RPG.net is actually quite wise: we cannot judge this situation through religious eyes. If the people who did this did so in the name of fundamentalist Islam, we cannot look at that as a protected religious belief, but as a social construct that believes in the death of people that are not its members, not entirely different than the Klan in late 1800's America, Pol Pot in Cambodia, or the Nazis in Germany.

The Islam religion is not a hate-filled religion, and is a great and wonderful piece of the world's philosophy. Hate-filled bile disguised as a sect of a religion is nothing more than an excuse for evil. Just because it has a religious backing does not make it more sacred or appropriate.
comment (10) - 2001-09-12 13:50:00

Culture of emptiness
I don't want to highlight my own personal losses in the face of what is the most devastating thing we've ever seen, but the job fell through. What happens next? I don't know. My girlfriend wants to move. I don't, necessarily - I like Seattle, and the weariness I heard in my mother's voice when I mentioned I might get a different job and move just emphasized to me what a failure she thinks I am.

My contract with Boeing will probably be gone in November and I have to get a job. What will I do? I could get another tech job relatively easy. It'll pay about the same or a bit less, and I'll survive. But, damn it, that new job was my ticket to do what I wanted: write two weeks a month and start a life that means something while being able to support a family. Without it, it seems like a choice between the two.

My choices are at once big and small. If I want to keep living the life I am, I have one choice: keep working just like I am. But I feel so many urges at this point. I'm thinking about trying to get a job at the NSA again so I can help stop an atrocity like this from ever happening again. (Shit, I'm almost thinking about joining the Army again to make a real difference.) I'm thinking about dropping everything and going to school to study something enriching and rewarding, like theology. I'm thinking about running away from everything and shirking all responsibility. I'm thinking that no choice is a good one, and it's about the most fucking depressing thing on Earth.

This tragedy shakes our most core beliefs. I thought I was a pacifist. I thought I couldn't support our government completely, so I left the Army. Now I think it's not a completely bad idea to bomb Afghanistan, and I don't even know if they're responsible: I merely know that they have helped foster a world where terrorism like this exists.

In a world where any one of us could die tomorrow, why are we wasting our lives?
comment (1) - 2001-09-12 11:32:00

Chicanery always makes you happy
I'm been quite boring lately with my no-posting self. Reason: I have fried my brain. I'm working like the devil trying to finish up this project at work, and I haven't had time to write a word. I'm pretty much saying, "Screw 'em," this afternoon. My myriad of bosses (there's at least three, but probably more - I've lost count) realize that my contract is up in two months and want to ring all the work out of me they can. They could just hire me again, but they're leaving that option up in the air so my financial future is in limbo. Nice.

So - I'm applying for jobs. I just sent in a resume this morning for an incredible job as a security consultant where I can live wherever I want and get to travel around and thumb my nose at Boeing. I'm not sure if I'll get it, but I've got my hopes up.

Either way, though, Jenaya and I have decided to get the fuck out of town. I'm a little afraid to announce this already in case it doesn't happen, but we've decided to move to Bisbee, AZ, the town of my dreams. (Note: beware the freaky woman when you follow the link.) Jesus, this scares me, but I want to do it so bad it's worth it. No people, no traffic, no family, no rain - just sun, a house, a dog, and a small, small town with quirky neighbors.
comment (6) - 2001-09-10 16:03:00

The death-knell of summer
Well - I'm about to not post for five days, and like Mike, I thought I should probably change my blog about now. No one wants to see my sad stories up top for five more days.

Anyway, here at the dead end of summer, I'm spending the weekend at Bumbershoot, the largest Seattle outdoor festival (I believe). It's live music and too many people: I'm most excited about Reverend Horton Heat, Rollins Band, and - get this - the Red Elvises. (If you've ever seen Six String Samurai, you're familiar with these jokers.)

Then, as it all winds down, I get to turn a quarter-of-a-century. For some reason, I don't want to. It just seems like one of those dates you're supposed to have all your shit together, and, well, I don't.

Have a great Labor Day - I'm cutting out of work early and getting really not observant.
comment (6) - 2001-08-30 15:50:00

Last goodbyes
Here goes me getting too personal again. This is a mistake to post.

Four years ago today, I got married by a justice of the peace in a bad suit and leg cast to a girl from Wisconsin named Jennifer. I'm quite obviously not married to her now. So what happened?

I remember being in Texas in the summer, the air like tongues of flame whipping me all day long. I was 1000 miles away from a girlfriend I hadn't seen in 3 months and didn't miss her much, to be honest. I was happy without anyone in my life - my roommate at the time was one of the best friends I've ever had, and he and I got along in that great way two people only can when forced to be together in miserable situations.

There's this shithole of a lake in San Angelo, TX called Lake Nasworthy. It's dirty, lukewarm, filled with debris, and the only real refuge from the oppressive heat and drill sergeants. I went because this crazy bi-sexual Australian part-time stripper I had a 3-foot hard-on for was supposed to be there getting drunk, and I didn't really feel like missing out. What I didn't know that day was that I was getting set up.

Jennifer Hanson - one of the shyest girls I've ever met. She'd been there for three months, and I'd never noticed her, but she'd somehow decided I was cute and got her roommate to ask me if I wanted a ride to the lake. I wanted to go jump off a cliff into the lake, and she was the only one who'd go with me. Alone leaping into the water, we somehow hit it off. She really was funny at the time.

And then I realized where I was going. I was about to leave the country. (I didn't know I would be heading to Korea at the time, but I'd been told I was going to Hawaii, which is the US, but - well, it's not like Chicago or anything.) I was about to turn 21 - which, in my warped Alabama upbringing, said I had to be a man. My dad was married at 20, which doesn't sound like it should influence anything, but, trust me, it affected me seriously. Jennifer was cute enough, and laughed at my jokes, and - most importantly - she just seemed so innocent.

So we got married. And then we didn't live together for a year or so. We spent a month together in Texas, then I had to go to Arizona, and I drove to see her every weekend across blasted plains, only to fall asleep in her bed, wake up, and take off for another 11-hour trip. She came to Arizona - and I left for Korea 2 weeks later. She came to Korea - and we lived in separate barracks. I rented us a wonderful little Korean house - and our asshole of a first sergeant made us move back into barracks. Korea broke that girl's heart. She couldn't speak the language (I could), both of her roommates were fucking random guys every night in a room the size of my cubicle now, our leadership didn't like women much, and particularly didn't like her, and I was having the time of my life, which hurt her the most. I was always there when she was off work, but the fact that I had that damn smile stapled to my face drove her nuts.

Jesus Christ, I wanted everything to be alright. I wanted more than anything for everything to be okay, and I couldn't. The girl I'd met who didn't even curse, who'd never said a negative comment I'd ever heard - that girl began to hate. Hate in a way I've rarely seen - hate in a way that eats and gnaws at you day after day. She hated being there, she hated her roommates, she hated her job, and - even as I lied to myself and tried not to notice - she hated me.

I'm a fucking idiot, by the way. I thought everything would be alright as soon as I got her to America. We got a little townhouse. We got the best dog ever made. We got friends, and vacations back to her home in Wisconsin. We got couches and cable television and jobs with normal hours. She got to take college classes, and have a hot meal every night when she came home from school. I got a mom, someone I could call and she would tell me how to make dinner while Jennifer was at school.

Nothing could make you happy, Jen. And I'm sorry. I wanted to so bad. I tried with everything I could. I even stayed home with the dog while you were out until 6 AM with groups of random guys I didn't know. I cleaned until paint came off the walls. I would have done anything you asked.

And I lost you. I'll never know why, really. Maybe you just could never get happy again after that year in Korea. Maybe you missed home too much. Maybe you really were sick - the doctor said so, but no medicine you ever tried made you feel better. Maybe I was too irresponsible - you brought it up enough. Maybe you couldn't get over the fact that my parents drove you nuts. (If it's any consolation, they drove me nuts too.) Maybe we just weren't meant to be together. Maybe you knew I was there because I thought it would be the best thing, instead of being there for my heart.

Two of the longest years of my life were with you, though, and even though I'm well over them, I thought about you today. I really do hope you're happy, I swear. I've never really been mad at you, even though I've said I was. I still wish I had the dog, but that was the only gift I could give you that you'd accept. That was the only final way I knew to get a smile out of you. I hope your life is what you wanted - I hope you become a vet. You'll be the best at it - you always loved animals so much. And, sometimes, every once in a while, I miss you.

I wish you the best. Hug Calvin for me. Thank you for letting me go and be happy.

Goodbye, beautiful girl.
comment (2) - 2001-08-28 12:58:00

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