blog, thoughts

coffee and apples

I usually spend time writing for my blog here at one of the local Starbucks coffee establishments-Particularly the one located at Bayhill Shopping Center in San Bruno. It’s a larger store, located across from the YouTube and Walmart offices. And so it seems a majority of the clientele who raid this store for that quick wake-me-up are mostly well off and/or stinkin rich. I’m not one of them of course…

Nope. They all commonly order expensive frappuccinos, mochas, and lattes; While I get an Earl Grey tea on the cheap-But I splurge a little, I get two bags, and add in a drop of soy! Big spender here. It is advantageous however, as basically you only pay for the bags and cup, while the hot water is continually free. And if the server knows you as a regular, he/she might not charge the extra forty cents for the soy. Either way, I’m spending little more than two dollars, but it lasts me for as long as I stay. Also I just have no taste for coffee any longer. Once in awhile, I might get a insert odd name frappuccino, but I won’t pay for it.

The other reason I dwell here, of course, is that this Starbucks, seemingly along with all others, have free wifi net connections-Heavily congested and lower speeds, but it’s free. Please don’t come to Starbucks with torrent downloading in mind, you will be highly disappointed.

Now the reason I’m making note of this experience is that I can look in any direction around me, and I will see someone doing something on their laptop, or phone, or tablet. Every single one of these technological tools (wink) is an Apple MacBook, iPhone, or iPad. And all of which are current generation. No, no! I see someone with a newer Lenovo ultrabook! PC brother!

There’s absolutely nothing with their choice in computer or gadget. I do wonder however, how much potential in computing power is being wasted on… Let’s see, he’s on craigslist, he’s reading something, someone is on iTunes (with his overpriced Beats Audio headphones), Facebook, Candycrush, eBay, YouTube, Wikipedia… (I’m totally being a voyeur right now) — Oh there’s someone doing some spreadsheet work! Point is, are these expensive gadgets really necessary for such small tasks? Why would someone spend in excess of a thousand dollars for light web browsing and productivity? When not taking a break at Starbucks, what are these high end computers used for?

I am typing this on an almost 10 year-old laptop with an OS (Windows XP) that is now 4 generations old, Half as much RAM as I should have (512mb)-that also runs about ten times slower than current speeds, a single core processor, a very slow 4200rpm IDE HDD, 64mb video RAM, and a wireless b/g connection. And I can do everything that everyone else is doing here on their current gen notebooks. It really isn’t that much slower either.

I do understand companies from time to time limiting support for certain products in order to sell new ones. However I also think it’s wrong when support is completely dropped for the older product while it is still perfectly able to perform as it always has. Like car companies, most computer hardware and software companies do their best to stay up to date with current builds. When the product becomes finally obsolete there are often still outlets for old available parts and support files found on-line that you basically have to do a little digging for. The resurrection of this old laptop is a result of that.

So why am I not seeing more people here with older generation hardware/software when it all still basically works? Is it all really just a symbol of status to spend and brandish newer gear every year or two? Seems kind of silly if it is. Or are people just too lazy to do the upkeep of their old gear?

Of course I’m definitely in no place to tell people how to spend their money. Suppose I need some myself in order for people to pay attention to me anyway.

blog, thoughts

itsy bitsy

Yesterday I was burrowing through my collection of storage totes from my move to South San Francisco last year-I was trying to find an installer disc for Windows XP in an attempt to resurrect an old laptop that my sister had given me. Thankfully I did, and this almost 10 years old HP/Compaq v2135us is now usable again. In fact I’m using it now to write this up. The old single core Centrino and 64mb graphics chip is barely able to run standard def YouTube and Netflix video, but it is good enough for light web, my writing, and WordPress postings. This for now shall be my new (rather old) tool to run and write with. Thank you, sister.

Additionally, amongst my collected wasteland of old PC gear, I ran into a collection of old 3.5” floppy diskettes. For fun I pulled out a random box, hooked up my usb floppy disk reader and delved in. Doing so I found some old home work assignments. This one here was for sophomore English; Or was it junior year. Hmm… in any case, I believe the assignment here was to recall a monster that you were afraid of as a child.

Essentially, what I wrote here (at least of my chosen monster) is pretty much complete nonsense. I had to make up something to get a grade. I did do some spell checking as the old DOS word processor program I had used initially to write this did not have spellcheck. The rest of it remains largely untouched, with the addition of an edit/sidestory.

Looking back on this now, I find it insanely hilarious! I hope you all enjoy it.

[okay it formatted weird after I pasted it into WordPress. Whatever.]

Ron Dador

Per. 6 Rm. 52

3/17/95

A Story of My Monster

The word monster would not thoroughly justify this story. Fear or phobia is more apropos.

I take no effort to scare of monsters or such mythical creatures, although I do believe in vampirism and witchcraft. To me, the monsters of movies are no less believable than Santa Claus. Now monsters of mysticism are interesting, because they do exist. I know that vampires, witches, clairvoyants, mediums…. are real. And I believe that magic and mysticism is just as important as logic and science. Now don’t take my word for it. I can’t prove it straight out. One must see through my eyes and feel through my mind to believe. Hmmph…

Perhaps I’m getting a bit off subject.

As I stated earlier, I have not a monster…more of a fear. Now this is sort of embarrassing to admit. After all, everyone thinks I’m a devil worshiper, satanic, a witch. Haha…all nonsense. I maybe a little gothic, my family is a bloodline of mediums and psychic healers, but I claim no demon. Oh, and whomever reads this, I entrust that you keep these words to yourself. Please, for the benefit of my well being. If I admitted to the world that I was psychic (I’m not…powerful enough to be, nor want to venture into wielding more power), I’d be throne into an asylum.

Anyway, enough with the meta-physic impediments. Here it goes….I have a little case of arachnophobia. Yes…I fear spiders. I hate spiders! It gives me chills just thinking about them. I’d be surprised if I didn’t commit suicide after havng written this bloody story….haha!

Why do I fear such pitiful a life form?

Well…it’s story time…..

Spring of 1982. Burlingame, California. I was about four years old, living with my grand-parents. I moved around alot in my life, and this, possibly was my fourth or fifth housing. And I suppose I could call this the official start of my life. When I was becoming aware of what surrounded me, and with interest. You could say that I was like a kitten, staring so curiously at well …anything.

I had attended my first kindergarten class, and have to admit, having my first kiss from a female admirer within the first three days. Not bad for a 5 year old…haha. I remember her vividly…and I could tell you an interesting story about her, and myself. But I won’t. Oh and don’t feel that you have to know about it. Nothing juicy. Hell, one might not admit a story like that if it were to be….haha….against the law. I’ll go on to say that it was a mysterious, yet tantalizing experience.

[edit- Okay, okay. Before the webs think I was involved in some pre-pubescent sexual escapade, here is a summary of that little story:

Not long after this event, perhaps a month, it was decided that I move down to our home in Santa Clara to stay with my mother and go to school there. It was a bit too much for my grandparents to run the town Greyhound Bus Station and have to watch over my schooling. I don’t blame them.

In any case I never got to say goodbye to this cute little blonde girl, whom at the time, I had reluctantly called my girlfriend–Rather she was the one claimed me and began our school yard relationship. Haha! I wish I could recall her name. Pity.

So some 5-6 years later, shortly after having graduated from grade school in Santa Clara-That summer was spent with my grandparents back in Burlingame hanging around and helping at the Greyhound station. One day I went off walking around old Burlingame Ave.-I say old Burlingame because since then it has become a street of modern shopping outlets, complete with a Safora and Starbucks. No longer were all the shops small and locally owned. The only places that have survived this great commercial take over, at least that I recognize are the Copenhagen restaurant/bakery, and the Round Table Pizza that was a daily stop due to its small stock of video arcade cabinets. Even the Greyhound Station, which was later deemed a city landmark, has now become a sandwich shop-A very good one, I might add.

I digress…

The point is, like Bon Jovi’s music video for the song, She Don’t Know MeI shadowed her up and down Burlingame Ave. I believe I had found that cute little blonde girl again, only we were notably older.  At one point our eyes met, and I believe we had a genuine moment of recognition. And of course like the shy fool I was, I walked away frightened. I do regret that I didn’t properly (re)introduce myself. -end edit]

Where was I? Oh yes, my fear of arachnids. One day I was at home, playing alone (typical) in the front yard of my grandparents house in Burlingame. If I recall correctly, I was playing with my toy light-sabre. The light-sabre, the weapon of choice of the Jedi-This one modeled after Luke Skywalker’s light-sabre. I was enthralled by Star Wars, sure, but was far more interested in the swordplay aspect. Hmm…my first taste of holding a hilt, though plastic…still it was marvelous to be in control of a (fake) melee weapon for the first time….

Hmm…oh yes, back to the story. After thrusting and slashing at my make believe opponent, I faked a parry into an unbalanced downward slash, and inadvertently drove myself into the soft grassy land under the old oak tree. After acting out a couple lines from the movie, I attempt to get up. That was when I first encountered spiders. Ohh…I remember it sooo well.

I looked up at the tree, and something magically descended down upon me and landed on my chest. I lay there pondering what the bloody thing was, then it started to move. My heart started pumping rapidly as it slowly crept up my body. I shivered when my skin met it’s fast moving legs moving up my neck. Nervous as all hell, I was.

Then suddenly a large image appears over me, grabs toward my neck and flicks the spider away from me. It was my grandfather, and thank the gods he made it just in time. I swear I would have fainted. That was one of the most agonizing experiences of my life (up to that point, anyway). And to this day I still fear these creatures. Every time I see something resembling a spider…I go absolutely nuts. I hate them….but they’ll always have an edge over me…

blog, thoughts

the mighty testicles

Here is an entry from one of my old sites:

10.13.03 – I just returned from a punk rock concert featuring the Dwarves. I am tired. It’s funny how exhaustion brings out the the creative and reflective in me. I seen old friends of mine that I haven’t seen in 6 or so years. From another time, another place. Old love interests-Or perhaps it was only I that was really interested. Heh…

We talked of how rocky our lives have been since we had last seen each other. How we’ve grown. I’m happy to find that they’re doing well. They’ve gone on with their lives, and have been or are proving 
to be successfull.  I suppose this log is unworthy of true sentiment as I won’t give details, as usual. I guess all I can say is that growing up is hard to do. It takes true determination to deal with all the follies and even the jollies. When you fall, you don’t just get up-You have to stand up before the 10 count, and be ready to fight on. I didn’t hear any bell.

I’m a little cloudy on the exact date as I’ve kind of repressed the subject (hell, I may even have the year wrong)-But I believe a week later, or at least around that time-It was found that a co-worker of mine from Streetlight Records, Tom (who also went by cowskabs, the mighty testicles, or the drunken master) had committed suicide by consuming rat poison.

That show was the last time I had seen him. I drove him to it. On the way, he mentioned that he was now officially on vacation from work. I asked him what he planned to do, and he said he was basically just going to drink and write poetry and rest.

We met up with his friends, then I ran into my old friends and hung out with them. I seen him periodically during the bands sets doing some crazy punk dances, just all smiles having a good time. By the time the show ended, I couldn’t find him. Figured he just took off with his buddies, plus he lived nearby anyway. So I just left. Didn’t think much of it. He’s a big boy, right?

Well as I said, he …died.

I’ve since regretted the fact that I didn’t try harder to find him after the show. You can play all these hypothetical situations in your head on what could have been IF. I do sometimes think if we hung out more that night and afterwards, maybe I could have talked him out of it, or somehow prevented it.

Under that rough metalhead/crustpunk, 5″ mohawk, grizzly beard, badass exterior, he really was a very sensitive guy. He was a cutter, had some very visible self inflicted scars. That’s an obvious sign of suicide in itself aside from him talking about suicide once in awhile. You didn’t really take it all so seriously either. He was happy-go-lucky, usually quite charming, a truly fun character. Always made ya laugh somehow.

I remember one story he told me about how he was at an IN-N-Out burger drive-in. While placing an order he says he fell in love with the tellers voice. While waiting for his turn to get to the window, he wrote her a poem saying how easily it was to fall in love her just by hearing her speak. He didn’t say if her reaction was of elation or horror, but he said she was so distracted that she gave him the wrong order, and basically made everyone behind his car wait an additional few minutes.

Of course there were those dark times. Some days while at work, you might ask him a question or to do some random task and “Whatever. We should all just kill ourselves.” he would say.

He had his share of problems, and I won’t get into any specifics, but I imagine those problems resulted in him drinking quite a bit. Drink and forget. Maybe that’s why he was so jovial at one moment, and ridiculously negative the next.

I’m not here to make any point on drinking. Just want to say I was thinking about Tom today. He had a lot qualities I wish I had. He was the charmer, the life of the party, a poet, a drummer, and absolutely fearless. I miss him.

Surely the mighty testicles is rockin’ out right now somewhere in the netherworld …at peace (or whatever he’d call it).

blog, thoughts

coming to terms

Shortly after devouring a honey mustard chicken flatbread sandwich and a side salad with raspberry vinaigrette here at Wendy’s,  I’ve discovered something. Okay,  I’m lying. Been thinking about this all day. I’m starting to come to the conclusion that I’m capable of doing more than being a store stocker making minimum wage.  This just cannot be the extent of my talent and usefulness in the world.

I used to think I had so much potential. Was recently browsing through my main storage drive which houses a collection of files from HDDs of my various computers spanning over 20 years-I ran into many old projects. Music,  drawings, videos,  pieces of writing-Collections of my thoughts and ideas,  recorded at various points of my existence. Some finished,  many merely started.

So what the hell happened?

Could easily spend pages trying to dissect why.  Many. Pages.

In summary:  I am easily distracted. Often time have a hard time concentrating on one thing-Putting two and two together. Add to the fact that I’m so horribly shy and nervous that my communication skills are very lacking.  I’m always on the defensive and can’t relax, and ever worried about projecting the right image so I don’t make a public fool of myself. I like criticism, it gives me a marker of how and where to improve; But deep down I can’t handle being dissected as such. It frustrates and angers me.

Oh yeah,  I’m also pretty clumsy. If I were to compare myself to a popular character in ancient and modern lore and literature, it would probably be a cross between Christopher Reeves and Richard Donner’s bumbling Clark Kent (not Superman),  and The Maxx. Got any toast?

In the last year, I’ve made attempts to be more open, outgoing, more friendly, and upfront. This blog is another step-A result in me trying to evolve and adapt. The difference between this blog, and my previous attempts is that I’m laying it all out now. I used to hide or cover up who I really am. Now I accept that I’ve failed in this my life, over and over again. I can now generally deal with the shame and embarrassment. I’m not perfect and I need stop pretending to be.

Ah, sidetracked again… (told ya)

Again, I realize that my life can’t end as a stocker. Some may find pride (and a decent living) in doing so, but it’s not for me. I’ll deal with it as long as I have to, but I know my strength is in creativity. Now more than ever I have to harness that strength. Do something with it that I can both make a living from, and (most of all) be proud of-No matter what others may say or think.

blog, jobs, thoughts

adapting

Just a quick note. Nothing major to report on recent events. I am however really tired. Will eventually adapt to the graveyard schedule …hopefully.

Trying to work out a schedule that is similar to the typical day shift. Sleep by 2pm-4pm, wake up by 10pm, at work by 12am. However yesterday (at 4pm) the process was interrupted by my cousin bringing over his son’s laptop for me to fix. It was slowing down-Typical malware symptoms. Figured it would take a couple hours at the most. 5:15pm (today) I’m still working on it.

The infestation of trojans and adware on this kids laptop was alarming. My net habits aren’t very broad. I can get away without running malwarebytes for 6 months and even then I’ll get maybe a dozen “malicious” files. After terminating all the pop-ups and actually dumping the malwarebytes installer onto an sd card from my box, the program initially found 5,653 malicious files! That’s incredible!

So I finally got to sleep around midnight. And my body was still a wreck when I got up at 10am this morning. And now I’m waiting for my brother who needs a little more help moving things out of his old house tonight.

I love my family. Happy to help anytime; However my relationship with sleep is in big trouble.

blog, thoughts

the name

That was a rather long first post. Apologies. I’ll keep this one a little shorter.

I suppose I should briefly tackle the name of this site. I had been planning to write a hosted blog for quite awhile now – What has held me back in part was the name. Of course the name has to be catchy and most of all memorable.r3set_txtb

rrr

I had called my first personal site r3set.com. At the time it was relevant to me because 1) It was video game related and that was/is the industry I wanted to be apart of. 2) I had an idea of a video game company called r3s which stood for “r3sist. r3sonate. r3solve.” And the et actually stood for “entertainment” -sic – r3s entertainment company. Even earlier than r3set.com, I had r3s.net, but the host I rented it from went defunct about 5 days after I started it. Additionally there were prototype sites that were called r3sonate and r3volt. 3) Finally, to quote my old intro tag from 2008 “‘r3set.com’ was named because that is what I am doing – Resetting myself, this life.”

rt2r3sonlogo

Okay, okay – reset.com was also taken. And r3volt didn’t happen because of revision3.

getdador.com is hosted by WordPress, and I definitely didn’t want the “free” option of  (blah-blah).wordpress.com.  So just like r3set.com, I had to figure out what was not taken. After almost 20 years of the active web, what short/catchy name (particularly in English) was left untouched?

Furthermore, why am I doing this again? The first tries didn’t go over so well. What did I do wrong? Well that’s a whole other post, but in summary, I believe that I was trying too hard to entertain everyone. So I branched out into making videos and trying to do webcomics, music and other things to try and promote-All the while trying to make a living and pursue other “hobbies” like automobiles and aquarium fish. My grandfather and his failing health had also moved in with me at the height of all that. I’m not blaming him at all (I miss him very much)-I was just too damned ambitious and couldn’t balance the chaos and lost control. And finally lost interest.

I didn’t get it at the time. I didn’t realize that it was too much of a workload. I really needed a team to get things moving along, but I was too stubborn and wanted to do it all myself. I get it now. Looking back on all my old files, the blog, the game and movie reviews-I realize that at the core of r3set.com was my writing. I write. I do not excel at writing, but I know I can resonate enough to perhaps draw some interest.

More importantly, I’m writing this blog for me as an outlet for my emotion and creativity which I feel needs to be explored once again. I do have a voice-Perhaps one that in the greater scheme of things doesn’t matter. At the very least it can be recorded and reviewed and reflected upon by myself, my friends and my family in the future.

TL;DR (sorry)

getdador! is a pun. It makes light of the pronunciation of my family name which is correctly pronounced as “duh-door.” So getdador! is sounded out similarly to “Get the door!” It’s kind of the old family joke – Ron gets Dador, Ron slams Dador etc.

Sounds simple, yes? Perhaps not.

I can’t recall a time when someone did not initially question how Dador was pronounced. I really can’t. This lead to discussion with my older half-brother who is a paralegal. Apparently both he and my sister (who works for NASA) simply let people assume our name is pronounced as Day-door. My older half-sister (who happens to be a television news reporter) I have heard is introduced as Dah-door.

And of course my little brother who is a very talented pre-popular musician is simply “Rex.”

Ahem…

Well then! I am here to make claim to “Duh-door!” Let that be known to all three of you who read this blog…

Finally, The get part in getdador! simply plays off of “Get Carter” (love both the original and remake). Of course the get is also used informally as “understand” – Understand Dador (me).

Now I probably could have went with feeldador.com, but I imagine the content may have been assumed to be …different.

So do you getdador! now?

blog, thoughts

what was/is

Hello. Welcome to getdador!

This site is focused on the thoughts and ideas and random ramblings of myself, Ron(nie) Dador.

As an introductory post, I’ve chosen to post a letter I wrote to someone (who shall remain anonymous) in 2007-ish. I don’t know the exact date because like a fool, I never dated it, and when I discovered this file recently, I had accidently saved it, thus altering the original file date. Meh.

This letter was never received by the person it was directed to. That person was supposed to return to pick-up their old books, and so I printed this and hidden the leaflets in the books – But they never came back.

Some of you who knew me during this period will probably realize who I am writing to. Please do not contact this person or refer to them of this post on my behalf. Thank you.

Well let’s hop to it. This is who I was in the mid zeros.

La Fleur du Mal,

 

            Salve. I will keep this date non-consequential – Does it matter? I know not if ever you’ll bother to read this. It’s good practice if anything. I like writing, yet do so little of it – Not unlike a plethora of other talents I may possess (or think I do). Ever so often I go on these “journeys” for self-analysis. Then I usually delete or burn them. Anyhow…

            You’ve asked me how I’ve been? It’s hard to explain in short, concise words given the allotted time we have in company of each other. You are busy and needn’t be bothered by persons non-direct in your life. All too well I understand…  

            Now let’s play.

            As I said, the last “couple days” were very hard for me. On a night prevy, my heart was once again broken. I’ll not go into much detail, but the event was non-direct… Yet so intense I had lost much confidence in myself, much less hope for the companionship I so dearly long for. Love for me is like a worm cut into many pieces and thrown across compost. Through a life burrowing and consuming in darkness I may come across a part of myself, but never to again be whole. A part of me had died.

            That night I danced with the tip of the blade of my gladius across the contours of my face – Little by little adding pressure almost breaking through the top epidermal layer. But I stopped.    

            I didn’t want death – At least not by my own doing. Not now. I only wanted to scar myself. What stopped me was the thought of my Grandfather, whom I love and respect very much.    

            Here is a blog entry in explanation:

 

 

1:16 AM – -Virginia-

A woman I’ve known and loved has died.

She was a survivor of the Japanese occupation of the Philippines during which 5 of 11 of her brothers and sisters were killed. She grew to become a model and actress on the Filipino stage and screen. She married a wealthy lawyer and born a son. To what end that marriage had failed and through a chance meeting, she bumped into an Irish American soldier who served in the US Coast Guard and Air Force. 

They soon married and the family moved to the US once the war had ended. Being a military family they were always moving. Eventually they settled in the West Coast in the San Francisco Bay Area where they remained. They lived a long and many time strenuous life. But they were always together.

This last Sunday, April 29, 2007 was an eventful day. It was the old man’s birthday and they’re anniversary – Fifty Four years together. It took place in a care center that she had been inhabiting these last few months due to her failing health. She was more or less confined to her bed, with little strength to move and under constant care and supervision. He, being an aged man could no longer care for his wife on his own power.

That day most of her grandchildren were there. There were many shared laughs, memories, debates. She was in high spirits – Impressed on how the family had grown so largely in just 2-3 generations from her only son. Her smile was never ending. Her strength and will were ever present – All the while knowing that it was to soon be… over.

The day ended with her spirits high.

The next day was her last.

She was Virginia C. D. Connor.

She was my Grandmother.

 

            So you see, the thought of my grandfather seeing his grandson self destruct is something I couldn’t live with. Methinks I will wait awhile… and when he goes, perhaps so will I.

            That concludes recent events.

Time for a smoke. And while I’m at it I think I’ll move my laptop onto the bed and get comfortable – Throw on my favorite Dead Can Dance album, “Within the Realm of a Dying Sun”. Speaking of music…

 You must be wondering (or not) about my musical endeavors. Sorry to say that it’s been mostly… neutral for the last year or so. Working in a music retail store has more or less given me a bad taste for this business. I really hate the recent (bowel) movement of music in the last few years. Harsh words, I know – But most all of these recent works seem generic, lifeless or without feeling. Ironic words considering who I am, aye?

I blame in part, technological evolution. Technology has made it easier for anyone (non-musical and talentless) with little money and time to produce a very half-assed yet over-produced sounding recording.

As for me, my taste has changed quite a bit, if at all slightly. What retains is my love for anything that expresses a true feeling of empowerment – Much more a true feeling that can bring about a (almost) physical reaction. Most of which happens to be found (in my mind) in incidentals and orchestral pieces. If a story can’t be told by words, then surely it can be felt by music.

Most of my equipment now is fully orchestral or real sounding. Hardly, if any, analog or digital based synthesis remains. Recent electronic(a) music (including most modern industrial / ebm) leaves a bad taste in my mouth. But don’t misunderstand I still do and will always like my “era” of industrial and goth.

My recent influences have been more ethnic, dare I say pseudo new agey. Dead Can Dance and Lisa Gerrard and soundtracks to the Rome television series come immediately to mind. They are on constant play in my room and car(s).

As my Grandfather recently moved in, I had been forced to move my room/studio elsewhere yet again. That alone had put a halt to any musical developments. But trust me, I’ve many a tune in mind that need be developed – Many marches to be based on Roman and/or Greek hoplite battles and various gods. Speaking of Rome… 

The ancients have become a preoccupation of mine as of late – From gods to warfare to everyday life. It’s funny to find how much and yet so little has changed. But this could be a whole other essay in itself.

That “hobby” has brought me to collecting small artifacts such as coins, jewelry and reproductions of armor and weapons. As my interest was strong in things of Feudal Japan in my youth, the same passion has gone into dynastic Egyptian, Greek, Roman and Visigoth etc. Empires. Ever is my soul so anachronistic – Out of quantum touch so it seems.

Not long ago, [anonymous] asked me “Would you want to live in Roman times?” I quickly answered, “Absolutely, but I would sure miss aspirin!”

Another thing that has kept me busy is my enthusiasm for cars and motor sports. As I’ve mentioned before I have 2 cars (right now). My daily is a beige 1.8 liter ’92 Mazda Protégé. It has the same engine you’d find in that generation Miata. Some people consider it race worthy and it even has a SCAA rating of E. 130hp and almost equal torque. Haha! It does have a little kick stock. Definitely the bottom end of current imports, but I kid you not, I beat a newer generation Integra on the top end at 90-110mph. Maybe the other guy didn’t know how to drive. I call this car “Grocery Getter aka the shitmobile” which enthusiasts of this model don’t appreciate. Some of them have done impressive(?) drag and rally car mods and upgrades that can take on STI’s and Lancers… I’d rather spend that money on: 

My real project (headache/love)  – A  white ’95 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am. 5.7 liter SBC LT1 (corvette) engine. With bolt-ons and traction/suspension upgrades it’s at about 310hp. I call it “Deus Irae” or the “Wrath of God” – A name which works two ways as it is a very powerful and race worthy car and that it’s driven quite a wrath on my wallet. It has a 6spd tranny so it’s not so bad on gas (if you count $60+ a week not so bad), but that’s why I’ve got a small import as a daily. Deus was my daily for a year, but now I only run 100 octane ($5.10gal.) in it and drive it on weekends. I eventually want to throw a bigger cam into it or maybe a supercharger. My aim is about 450hp to keep up with the new generation Camaro coming out and enough power to not have to replace the stock rear end.

Okay…. As you can see I get very excited about this car. I can go on, but it can get boring – Although I know that you know cars. I will say that before I got the bloody Trans Am, I had known very little about cars. Yet after going through the many problems and performing upgrades myself – I now know a fair bit more. Necessity often plays both a cruel and rewarding joke.

I know what you’re thinking. “Where the bloody hell does he get money to do this shit on a clerks salary?” Well I have another form of income as an (ir)regular seller on eBay selling things from car parts to music gear to rarer video games. It’s amazing to find some of my old dregs to be of some value to someone else.  It is a fun process and the only thing that’s tedious is of course shipping.

Recently I was going about clearing up some of my old belongings in anticipation of my Grandfather’s moving in. Of course in doing so you come across old memories. Upon looking through my bookshelf I came across your copy of The Consumer. I hadn’t thought about you in quite awhile and in doing so I knew the laws of attraction would bring you to me once more. And so came the flood of memories…

Oh, for so long have I truly hated you. A small part of me still burns with the fire of seeing your undoing. It started shortly before your “incident” and departure. How you made me feel so small and insignificant as a friend. Your reliance on psycho-therapeutic medications – How you had your man threaten me. And all because I cared so deeply about you and your well-being. How wrong was I to care, to try to help you – To dissuade you from going back to hurt, only to be betrayed?

The night after that incident your co-workers/friends were distraught and we gathered at the Blank to have a drink and talk about the event. I assure you we all cared and as such we all did feel that betrayal. We were in agreement that your ongoing “show” had grown tiresome for sometime. Yet you need only ask and you would have our support.

Remember the worm story… a piece of me was cut and died that night. I couldn’t sleep for 2 days and I was pain. The physical pain eventually left but the mental anguish plagued me for quite some time. I was lost and alone. I felt I needed you but at the same time I wanted to destroy you.

That is when you became an allegory to my mental being. I saw you weak and crippled inside of me and I wanted to destroy that part of me. So I did. I became a hellion both mentally and physically tougher. Dominus. In control. No longer afraid to fight, nor to die. I would playback the scene with your man threatening me and how I would crush him. I mock my former timidity. I died – This time only to quicken to a different state of thought and being.

Yes! I did finally kill you in my mind – But you never die completely, do you? Ever so often you’ve crept into the store and all those feelings flood right back in. And I can’t stand to be around it/you. Today as I walked back from the warehouse I heard your voice and – Oh, how uneasy did it make me feel. What anger so pure, nurtured and harnessed for so very long!  I walked back into one of the restrooms and drove my fists into the wall. Then I composed myself. I stand looking myself over in the mirror with my anger slowly subsiding to calm. I knew what was to come. I had to confront you.

I clocked out and walked around the back to get to my bag. I saw you talking to [anonymous] for a brief moment. I turned to my corner and clenched my fists and banged them together in anticipation of classic fifteen rounder – Ready to trade blows. Figuratively, of course. I turned around and walked over to you.

Then it happened. Our eyes met. With pure radiance you smiled and then – By goddess… And then you embraced me! Strange, oh so strange… For the moment we touched and then after, I felt no longer the need or want to destroy you. You in my arms seemed a familiar thing – Something that was lost and found anew. It was then I realized the strength of my love for you and how such a feeling could drive such a strong hatred.

No. I did not destroy you. You destroyed me. I am laid to rest. I have come full circle on the oroboros and I thank you for it. Because of you, methinks I’ve grown, dare I say matured in the ways of this… living.

I forgive you… as I forgive myself.

I hope you get a chance to read this so that you may understand what you/I have been through. Whether now your feelings for me be of pure goodness or undeniable hatred – You now know where I stand.

I will always be your friend.

            The rest is silence…

 

-R