Everybody's spinning is the general sentiment behind the Politico's piece on why Hillary Clinton might reject an offer to serve as Secretary of State. A few sources have already spoken on the possible conflict of interest the Clinton Global Initiative poses. Some bloggers are disagreeing.
I'll keep posting as the story breaks.
I haven't really popped off about work for a while because right now I'm in a pretty good situation. I'm working remotely as an analyst and tech writer; I check my e-mail in the morning, call to check in with the bosses once a week by phone, attend a phone conference once a week, make sure my deliverables get out quickly, and life is good. I really consider this whole setup to be a gift from my boss.
For the most part the people I work with are OK. The current setup is that we have no sub-contractors on our team, so we're all employees of the large defense contractor that we work for. I guess that sounds strange to people who aren't familiar with gov't contracting, doesn't it?
It does make a difference to have everyone working for the same company though. Sometimes in a misguided effort to build some kind of phony espirit de corps on gov't contracts were everyone is just there for a paycheck, managers from one company or another will attempt to ascertain some kind of small perk for their employees or have closed door meetings to differentiate between employees and subs or employees of other companies.
The real problem comes with dealing with the gov't workers. We're there to provide advice and support to our gov't customer on a variety of topics. We generally act as subject matter experts where our customer agency has gaps in their knowledge of appropriations, technical subjects, and legislative mandates which frequently takes the form of providing analysis and solutions for a whatever problems they're having. What this really means is that we're there to do what the government workers can't do for themselves.
This leads to situations like the one I find myself in this morning. Within the portion of the USDA that my company services, I'm the designated subject matter expert on SharePoint. I don't do any server side stuff, I'm really just there to train users and figure out a way to extract some value out of the product for our customer. I've been dicking around with this off and on for coming up on three years now and they still don't know they want.
The Hobbit is the gov't worker I have to deal with on all of this and he insists on playing this crazy "Mother may I?" game with me. If I call him on the phone to discuss something I want to do (even though I'm the SME, I don't admin rights) after a 15 minute circular conversation, where I could swear he's deliberately being obtuse, he asks me to write it all up in an e-mail. If I dare to skip the introductory phone call with the Hobbit and broach a new topic in a detailed e-mail, he likes to wait a week before responding and when he does respond he asks a series of questions that I answered in my initial e-mail and makes several nonsensical counter proposals. It's positively maddening.
I have a co-worker who has spent a bit more time with the Hobbit than I have and he says that the real problem is the Hobbit doesn't communicate effectively via e-mail. True, he doesn't communicate well via e-mail but he also is trying to communicate bad ideas for the sole purpose of feeling like he made some sort of contribution to what's going on.
Here's what I wish I could make the Hobbit understand: I don't really care. It's your show, I'm not invested in this institution other than wanting to help it function better. My paycheck keeps coming every two weeks and that's all I need out of this deal. I'm content to create and implement a winning strategy with this technology and let the Hobbit take all the credit for it. If only he were smart enough to recognize the situation, shut up, and get out of my way.
The Humanity Critic continues to fire out links about HRC for SecState and why it's a bad idea.
I'm glad I'm not in DC right now.
Prince declares love for the GOP. Not exactly, but he does come out against gay marriage and, " . . . people sticking it wherever . . ."
For the first time ever I'm thinking about my working life in something other than strictly practical terms.
When I started working full-time, professional gigs 12+ years ago I hadn't finished school. I was nervous like shit because I half believed all the people who were telling me that I just had to go back and finish school RIGHT THAT MINUTE or career and financial doom were sure to follow. At the same time everyone was telling me I had to finish school, I already had a decent job making about the same amount of money as most of my friends who had finished school. I found myself in a weird position; I was doing OK, but I thought I was lucky to be doing as well as I was and consequently I had no real ambition in my professional life.
My career continued to chug along, I moved from tech support to training and took a job at a kick ass, small company that had been founded by a guy named Mark Minasi. Ten years later I still haven't had a job that I found as challenging or rewarding as my first training job. It was an intense workplace filled with a lot of extremely intelligent and extroverted people who weren't afraid to get into arguments or challenge opinions. Part of what I loved about the job was that no one seemed to particularly care if you had a degree. The long pole in the tent there was were you smart enough and intense enough to keep up? I was and so it was all good.
Too bad Mark and his brilliance left the company shortly before I got there and the company was on the verge of collapse. I only worked there for four months before the shit hit the fan and I moved on to a series of short-term opportunities where every six months I found myself sweating through interviews hoping no one asked if I had a degree. Eventually I got settled into some more long term jobs (including a stint working for BigDaddyRat) and somewhere along the way I decided to go back and finish school.
Finishing school took longer than I thought, cost more than I thought, but proved to be much more satisfying than I thought it would be when it was finally over. It's been almost a year since I took my last exam and the thought that it's over still brings a huge smile to my face. WifeRat and I have gotten a lot done over the five years since we've been married; she's gotten tenure, I finished school, we had a kid, we bought a home, and now the future is starting to look like a limitless horizon of new possibilities.
So now I'm thinking about work a little differently. For so many years I was just worried about keeping the job I had, but now I'm beginning to think about what it is that I really want out of work. I have no idea where I'm going to end up, but I can see a few different possibilities.
If I stay with the massive government contractor I currently work for I have to get out of the job I'm currently in. Right now I'm at the USDA and it is the most toxic government agency I've ever worked in. When I get back to DC I should have a chance to take a proposal writing class and I would like to leverage that against my presentation skills to jump over to the business development side of government contracting. The upside is that I stay in a recession proof industry and keep some stability. The downside is that I'm still a part of big bureaucratic entity and these fuckers have shown that they don't like to pay people, so I'm committing to fighting for every nickel I get out of them.
I could also bust out as an entrepreneur. Using those same proposal writing skills I can start getting myself some small contracts because there's no sense in throwing away 12 years of government contracting experience. I would also get into some real estate development, I led a tenant-sponsored condo conversion over the last four years and learned quite a bit about real estate. Our technical advisor is thinking about retiring in a few years and we have talked about getting together once we close the books on our current dealings. If I get my own company going I would probably also do some independent sales for various entities. I have a buddy who owns a company that does the signs in new buildings, they currently have no representation in DC. The sales are long-term and big money, but while I'm working for someone else I don't have the time to develop contacts and formalize my relationship with the manufacturer. Upside is that I would diversify my income stream, be independent, and get to work on different things. Downside is that administration and paperwork are not my strong suits and you have to have those things straight as a small business owner.
My final possibility is to become a full-time creative writer. As I continue to blog everyday, I feel my writing getting sharper and more clear. If I'm going to pursue writing as a career I will need to take a screen writing or script writing class in the near future. Ideally what I would like to do is bring fully formed ideas to an established production company that would take me on as a staff writer and allow me to learn the nuts & bolts of creative writing. BET is also getting into the business of creating new programming, so I think there's an opportunity for me there somewhere.
I don't know where I'm heading or what the final result will be, but it's good to feel free to dream again.
A links post, the refuge of the lazy blogger. I've been steady knocking out 500+ words each day, for someone who's not a professional writer or advocating a political position or dissecting the minutiae of "Heroes" that's pretty impressive and so I feel OK about punting today.
The Humanity Critic - This cat started following me on Twitter and so I did the same. In one of his tweets he sent out a link about why Clinton for SecState is a crock. The basic thesis is that because of the Clinton Global Initiative, Hillary has a conflict of interest that can't be resolved and isn't a viable candidate for Secretary of State; but the swirling rumors are meant to cockblock either Bill Richardson or John Kerry from getting the job. As always, the Clintons are keeping it classy . . . NOT!
Gnashing of teeth and rending of garments at the Wall Street Journal - This is the part of partisan politics that's so sad, GOP nut-gobblers can't believe that a guy who has repeatedly stepped on his dick for eight years isn't universally loved by all. I actually feel sorry for President Bush though, you can see that the last four years has really taken the starch out of him.
A new Five Guys opened up in DC
Dennis Miller has lost his shit - So typical, reduce women and their objections to whatever or whomever to jealousy over an assumed sex life. I hope the current cast of SNL has the balls to rip Miller (an SNL alumnus) to shreds over this idiocy and his tired schtick of obscure references.
Thanks to Knockout Ed over at Cointelpol for sending me this video from the New York Times about the Hyde School rugby program.
I spent a good bit of the day over at the in-law's place making lefse. This is another Mid-West tradition that my wife grew up with and has told me about, but now I've witnessed it firsthand. Nanna (my mother-in-law) had already made all the dough when we arrived and so we basically just got to start rolling and cooking as soon as we walked in the door.
The way this usually goes down is that a whole family (really the women of the family) gets together before or during the holidays to make lefse. The family will make a whole shitload of lefse that will be divided up, handed out, and eaten throughout the holiday season. Being a guy who likes and respects rituals and such I find this kind of cool; an anachronistic food tradition being passed from one generation to the next.
Like many people these days, we belong to blended family. WifeRat's Mom passed away and her Father remarried many years before we met, so Nanna is actually WifeRat's Step-mother. Nanna has two daughters of her own, so between her and Gramps (what BabyRat calls my Father-in-law) they have five daughters. Thankfully everyone gets along, because if they didn't it could get messy in a hurry.
Why am I bothering to tell you all of this? Because with four sisters-in-law, basically any family gathering quickly turns into a hen party and this was no different. One of Nanna's daughters (who also has a daughter) lives in town and her other daughter was visiting for the weekend, so by the time everyone arrived I was outnumbered 6 to 1 because Gramps had beat a hasty retreat back to his office leaving me to my own devices.
Still, it was a good scene and a big part of what I came out here for. BabyRat knows that she comes from an African-American family with a proud military tradition (both of BigDaddyRat's brothers served as well) that has deep roots in the DC area. I came out here to teach her is that she has a connection to the land and farming and, even though many people will simply label her as African-American, she's also has Norwegian and Irish heritage that must be acknowledged and celebrated.
Since I've moved to the Mid-West I have fallen in love with Walmart. There is an (almost) brand new Walmart SuperCenter located a five minute drive from our crib out here. This place has everything from tires to frozen shrimp, I love walking into Walmart knowing that they will almost certainly have every single thing I'm looking for. USB thumb drive, guacamole, and locking lug nuts? Check. If I wanted a codpiece, spurs, and a sawzall I'm pretty sure I could get all three at this Walmart.
You have to forgive me for my exuberance. When I need a last minute item, I'm used to going to a poorly stocked bodega and hoping for the best as I look for panko bread crumbs. Now that I'm a happy denizen of the suburbs, I just hop in my SUV and head that ass over to Walmart. It is well-stocked, it is huge, and it is open 24 hours a day. On top of all that, unlike the hurting Cashwise that only lets you get $25 or the skinflint Target that only allows $40, you can get $100 cash back.
WifeRat is a Target devotee. Over the Summer my brother-in-law and I had a long conversation over several beers about how our wives don't just go to Target 3-4 times each week; but they need to go, have to go, there is something that just had to be had from Target numerous times each week. As my love for Walmart has deepened, so has my understanding for WifeRat's Target fetish.
I'm pretty sure my love affair is going to end when I get back to DC and the nearest Walmart is 20 minutes away under ideal conditions, but we'll see what happens.
Being a DC resident, you tend to miss out on the really nasty campaigns and campaign ads. The Democratic primaries are the de facto elections in DC and the jockeying for position in those campaigns isn't the same kind of scorched Earth bloodsport you see in other areas.
Despite the fact that we don't have a TV here, I've seen quite a few political ads over the last four months. One of the nastiest races in the country was right here in Minnesota that featured Al Franken (of Saturday Night Live fame and Air America infamy) taking on incumbent Norm Coleman and just for an extra whiff of drama there was third party candidate Dean Barkley. This race is shaping up to be one of the closest in Senate history.
The entire campaign was full of nasty attack ads, many of them sponsored by the DNC's and GOP's senate election campaigns. After slinging all the mud he could, Coleman engaged in a chicken-hearted call for an end to attack ads near the end of the campaign. Not surprisingly, Coleman was heckled by Franken's people and the ridiculous smears continue to fly from both sides.
Now with the margin separating the candidates standing at 206 votes, Minnesota is headed to a recount. Accusations of voter fraud have been lobbed and questions are being raised about some of the voting machines used in Minnesota as well.
I would label myself as a reluctant feminist. It's not so much that I disagree with the basic principles of feminism as I understand them, but rather how they are sometimes applied or interpreted.
Having a wife that's a fairly prominent feminist scholar, I often forget that some basic facts about gender and sexism are still in question by some men. I would have thought that by the year 2008 we would no longer have guys talking about women who "deserved" to be raped. When I read this post from the Sexist and I was floored. Even more dismaying to me personally, was that this was a young brother talking this absolute insanity. Perhaps even more shocking than the actual blog post itself, was that there were dudes co-signing on what the first jerkoff was saying. 
I'm the Father to a wonderful little girl that I want to have every opportunity there is, athletic and otherwise. Unfortunately, there are still too many men out there who think that every increased opportunity for women and girls comes at the expense of men and boys. This frustrates me because equality between men and women isn't (or at least shouldn't be) a zero-sum equation. Providing the chance for my daughter to play soccer or participate in an after-school science program doesn't mean that I want to take those things away from someone else's little boy.
When I was finishing my degree, I did quite a bit of research on Title IX and I find myself in favor of the legislation. Much of the objection to Title IX comes from various misunderstandings and misinterpretations of the law. This bit from Glenn Sacks (a men's and fathers issues newspaper columnist) illustrates the most common misconception about Title IX:Time and again the Federal Department of Education's Office of Civil Rights (OCR) has investigated schools and allowed them only two options to meet Title IX--create new women's teams for which there often are neither funds nor interested female athletes, or cut men's teams.
Fortunately this isn't true. Mr. Sacks is looking at a 30 year old policy interpretation that has long since been updated.
[Update] I received an e-mail from Mr. Sacks pointing out that the quote of his that I use is from 2001, four years before the 2005 OCR clarification. My gratitude goes out to Mr. Sacks for taking the time to write and allowing me the opportunity to set the record straight.[\Update]
In 2005 the Department of Education's Office of Civil Rights offered additional clarification of the three-prong test of compliance. In this clarification, the OCR provides chapter and verse on how an institution can show they are complying with Title IX without cutting men's sports programs. In fact, the number of men's programs at a school and how much they spend are in no way a part of this test of compliance.
Without a doubt creating surveys discussed in the OCR clarification, sending them out, ensuring adequate participation, and compiling accurate results takes resources. Perhaps resources that are hard to come by in a small, underfunded athletic department.
There are ways to deal with the challenges raised by creating athletic participation surveys; graduate students in the social sciences are a potential untapped resource. Rather than fighting with feminists about Title IX, athletic departments should enlist their help by inviting feminist scholars to create and administer their compliance surveys. Grad students get a real project to work on, the athletic department works pro-actively to comply with Title IX, and the institution finds out if it's truly serving all its stakeholders. Everyone wins.
From Mark Thorp:
this thursday, 10/13, FUNDRAISER for Webb Elementary 6-9pm. Read More for additional details.
this friday, 10/14, Sinister Intelligence Agency, choice tracks from pop to metal, who knows with these delinquents
this saturray, 10/15, DJ Sharkey with DJ Darko. yes that's Darko from Spankrock, we did this once before and it's the only time we ever got so packed we had to hold a line at the door. doors open at 9, plan accordingly kiddies, you done been warned...
this sunday, 10/16, victor peters not only spins his favorite music buT CELEBRATES HIS BIRTHDAY AS WELL! HA! victor's got recordings from the biggest house parties up and down the coast from the last 15 years, this is prize stuff that'll take you back, please help us make a big messy mess
alrighty here's the specific details on the fundraiser:
Catrice Simpson directs the After School Program at Trinidad's Webb Elementary. She's got 221 kids and is only slotted $1000 a year from DC Public Schools. Last year she never got that funding and she hasn't gotten it yet this year either, meaning our $500 donation was her entire budget last year. True story. Catrice is dedicated pretty fierce.
We've formed a non-profit corporation called Trinidad Association (tax ID # 80-0299958). We're raising money for the After School Program, all of which will be held by the non-profit. If we donated the money to DC Public Schools it would never get to this program. Catrice will direct us to purchase her needs (art supplies, basketballs, etc...), which we will then donate directly to her program. That way ALL funds hit home.
The fundraiser is today, Thursday, 11/13, from 6 PM til 9 PM. In exchange for your $20 donation, we're giving away free drinks (3 per person) as well as food, and DJ T Y (Trinidad's own) is spinning. Ward 5 Councilmember Thomas' office has been a huge help and he's supposed to show. If you can't make it to the fundraiser, you can leave a donation with us when we're open. Checks can be made out to Trinidad Association. It's a shame we weren't quick enough to have paypal ready but next time we will.
If you're cynical about how much of your charitable contributions ever get to their intended target, here's a chance to make 100% impact on 221 kids who need something to do so they're not standing on the corner or stuck in front of a TV. If you're disgusted by the braying shiftless who complain about what everyone else should be doing, fork over $20 and directly effect positive change. Thanks if you read this far and sorry if it anything's preachy, but you know how it is...
some talk, others act
troy&dawn&mark
It's not that I don't like it out here in Fargo. When I first hatched this plan to move out here for six months one of the things I thought we would be able to do is live in a house, but we found an apartment that was literally a five minute walk from my in-laws so we took it. Other than the minor issue of not getting to live in a house for six months, pretty much everything has gone right on this trip out here. We found an awesome school for BabyRat, we have been on a couple of vacations and have taken numerous trips to the lake, and we have also been able to see a lot of family and participate in family events (birthdays and other celebrations we usually miss) while we have been here. Really it's been just about perfect when I think about it.
Still, I will be glad to get back home to DC. WifeRat and I like to go out to eat and we've done a good bit of that here, but going to Paradiso doesn't really cut if when you're craving some haute cuisine or sushi. I miss my neighborhood with the three nearby parks and, now, it's plethora of easy to walk to watering holes. I think what I miss the most is being able to walk to the store when we need a last second ingredient. There's nothing quite like the smell and sounds of the trees swaying in the breeze of a late autumn evening in DC.
Dropping BabyRat off at school is always interesting. I never know what to expect day-to-day. Some days she's pumped up and wants to listen to music on the drive to school, when we get there I get a perfunctory hug & kiss, a brief, "'bye Daddy" and she's gone. Other days she's not feeling it and we have to have a brief snuggle in the car before we head in to start the school day.
Today she was asking to watch TV on the way to school. Of course I said, "No." And firmly explained that we don't watch TV in the car unless we're on a long trip. BabyRat tried to protest, but was quickly cut off and moved on to whining about not having a snack on the way to school. "I'm hungry," she wailed as we pulled onto the interstate. By the time we got to school the Doodler had gotten herself all worked up, so we chilled in the car for a minute and she calmed her little ass down.
As soon as we into the school building BabyRat takes off. So after stuffing all of her gear into her cubby and filling out the sign-in sheet I go to find BabyRat for a last goodbye.
I briefly speak with BR's teacher (we'll call her Little Miss Sunshine 'cause she's like a little blond kewpie doll) about BabyRat's concern that she didn't have snack yesterday. LMS explains that the kids have a self-serve snack and that if the earlier kids take too long the kids that are waiting don't get a snack. I love it! I mean I don't love that my kid didn't get a snack, but I like the system and the reasoning behind it that says they have to teach kids the consequences of their actions.
I get a hug & kiss & "Love you" from BabyRat and here I am at the coffee shop getting ready to take the car in to get the oil changed and tires rotated.
My father died suddenly over Labor Day weekend this year. He's been on my mind a lot in the intervening months, but I haven't been able to write about him until now. I had some crazy idea that I could say everything I had to say about him, his life, and his death in one post. I now see that's impossible and I've decided to talk about him and his amazing life in smaller chunks starting today. It wasn't until I was half done writing this post that I realized today is Veteran's Day and a fitting tribute to my Father's 32 years of military service.
This morning I was reading Ta-Nehisi Coates' column "Wild Cowboys" and it got me thinking that maybe I should tell the story of how I came to be a Raiders fan. It seems like a good place to start talking about my old man, those Sunday afternoons when I first started watching football with him were an important time for me.
When I first started hanging out with my Dad on Sunday afternoons it wasn't football that attracted my attention, but rather his weekly ritual of boot polishing. Sunday afternoons were when my Dad would clean and polish (depending on his schedule) two pairs of boots or a pair of boots and a pair of dress shoes. He would drag out on old ammo box that contained his shoe shine kit, lay out a couple of pieces of newspaper and go to work.
First Dad would pick up one of his massive (size 16) boots, stick a shoe form it in to help hold its shape, and give it a vigorous brushing. His powerful arms working in concert to turn the brush into little more than a blur as he quickly and confidently removed a week's worth of dirt from his combat boots. Next, he would set fire to the surface of his shoe polish before quickly blowing out the flame leaving the living room filled with a smell that I will forever associate with Sunday afternoons. Dad would take the old t-shirt in his shoe shine kit, wrap up two fingers, kind of twist the whole deal around his wrist, and dip the two fingers first into water and then the softened polish as he applied a dull coat of polish. Finally Dad would starting shining his boots with a soft cloth, finishing with a flourish by repeatedly and loudly snapping his cloth against the toe of his boot leaving it like a shiny black mirror before starting over on the other boot or shoe.
As a father myself now, I can't help but think how ridiculous the sense of trepidation I felt was as I finally gathered up the nerve to ask my Dad what he was doing as I sidled up next to him on the couch. And slowly a Sunday afternoon ritual began form, I would ask my Dad if it was time and he would give a small nod which would send me dashing to his closet to get his shoe shine kit. At first I was too small to even break the vacuum seal created by the ammo box and get the thing open, but after Dad popped open the box I would lay out a couple of sheets of newspaper, fill the dirty stained cup in his kit with a few fingers of water, and watch as Dad methodically went to work on his boots.
It was during one of those Sunday afternoons sometime during the 1975 season that the Oakland Raiders played a home game in the old Oakland Coliseum that was broadcast on tape delay a week later. At the time we were living in Germany and had just moved there from New Jersey (where I was born), but I felt no geographic connection with any team. I was immediately struck by all the fans turning the coliseum into a sea of black and I thought to myself, "That's my team right there." So from that day forward I was a Raider fan.
Over the years I started doing more and more of the boot polishing each Sunday. At first I would just get everything set up, then I started doing the initial brushing, and eventually I was doing the whole thing. I think I was in 7th or 8th grade when I went to go do something with my friends one Sunday afternoon instead of watching football at home. That night I was chilling on the couch in the family room after dinner when my Dad stuck his head in and asked, "Where are my boots?" I responded with a blank stare. "Aren't you supposed to get my boots ready for the week?" my Dad asked insistently. "Here, let me help you," Dad said as he came into the room with two pairs of combat boots, his shoe shine kit, and a couple of sheets of newspaper that he laid down neatly in front of me. And it slowly started to dawn on me that what had once been a bonding ritual between father and son, had just turned into another chore for me to get done each week.
I don't usually make a point of staying up on what's going on in California politics, but this Prop 8 thing is worth paying attention to. As a Black man who isn't down with homophobia, the backlash towards African-Americans because California voters came down on the side of bigotry and intolerance is troubling and starting to piss me the fuck off. Dan Savage, the homophobe's bogeyman, a dude who always struck me as being pretty level-headed and pragmatic is now foaming at the mouth like a loon blaming Black people for the Prop 8 debacle.
A quick spin around the interwebs shows that plenty of brothers and sisters, gay and straight, are upset and speaking out against this latest bit of bullshit in Cali. This hasn't been enough to prevent people who are, quite rightfully, upset about the vote on Prop 8 from calling Black people niggers. I'm annoyed that despite the progress we seem to be making as a society, when some shit goes wrong the first thing that many people want to do is try to blame Black people.
Even so, I refuse to respond to the hate and stupidity being shown by some with more hate and stupidity. I'm feeling optimistic and strong these days and I feel compelled to use that optimism and strength in a positive way, so I say this to all of my gay brothers and sisters (Black, White, Yellow, Brown, and any other color there may be out there): I'm still here with you. Call me a nigger all you want to, I don't give a fuck, it's just a word; a word that is powerless unless I give it power and I refuse to do that any more. You're pissed and rightfully so, you see the great promise of this country coming closer to reality but at the same time you see yourselves continuing to be marginalized and discriminated against. It's fucked up and wrong, but we've got work to do and fighting with each other over who is to blame doesn't help anyone.
I'm sure someday Ta-Nehisi is going to say something that I disagree with, maybe he already has and I missed it, but for now I remain unabashedly on his tip. He sums up my feelings on this senseless conflict perfectly.
Today is the first day I haven't hit my goal of 500 words for the day since I made a new commitment to this blog and to myself. I'm not gonna trip about it, if I wanted to come up with 60 more words to type I know that I could but that seems kind of stupid.
This posting every day is no joke. Originally my goal was to post every weekday, but NylonThread put me onto to this NaBloPoMo thing and I felt like it was a good way to push myself and my writing.
Since I took my first creative writing class in college I have felt a desire to write more. But because of my freakishly bad relationship with school, I allowed myself to be caught up in the ridiculous notion that if I wasn’t writing for class credit then I was wasting my time.
Years later when I started working as a trainer and tech writer had to start creating classes and presentations, I started thinking about writing creatively again. But I had no idea how to get started and I talked myself out of giving it any serious consideration. It wasn’t that I never wrote anything that amused me or that I never enjoyed writing, commenting on blogs and e-mailing gave me plenty of that, but somehow I didn’t feel like I was writing.
Now that I’ve started this blogging thing I’m allowing myself to reconsider creative (specifically TV or movie scripts) writing as a career again. I feel like I have ideas out the wazoo and I’m getting closer to being able to assemble them in a coherent way. My experience as a gov’t contractor is going to be to my advantage, not just as grist for the comedy mill but also, in analyzing what it is that I need to do to sell an idea. Who to present an idea to, how to create a demand for what I’m producing; all the things you have to do to keep yourself employed as a gov’t contractor.
I was gonna put some humble pie bullshit in here about how I know I’m going to strike out a few times, but I don’t actually believe that. Either I’m going to put together some ideas that I can sell to a production company or who-the-fuck-ever (maybe have a more known writer pimp my ideas) or I’m not. It’s that simple, maybe the first buyer won’t bite but someone else will.
I don’t know where this well spring of confidence comes from, but I feel it.
This past week I went hunting for the first time ever. Bubba’s folks (owners of the previously mentioned T-Diamond Ranch) live on 2000 acres, so we were able to go hunting right on their property a couple of times.
The Rancher had an “elk tag,” giving him the right to bag one elk this season. We went drove up the mountain on their property on Thursday right before sunset to see if there were any elk about. We sniffed around for about an hour without seeing anything before (literally) heading back to the ranch.
Yesterday the Rancher wanted to take me out again to give me a couple of shots at a deer. In this particular part of Central Montana, and on cattle ranches in general, deer are considered pests. So we weren’t necessarily looking for a trophy buck, but were really out doing a bit of pest control. It also became clear that the Rancher wanted to see if I could handle a gun and if could bring myself to pull the trigger on Bambi or Bambi’s mom or older brother.
A little background on me and guns is probably appropriate here. As a guy who grew up with pretty strict parents, the one area where my parents were pretty laissez faire was weapons. From the time I was about 11 years old, I owned and carried a variety of knives. When I lived in Saudi Arabia my friends and I would go out to the Souks and buy ourselves cheap stilettos and switchblades or knock off Swiss Army Knives. The big rule was don’t take your knife to school, so long as you didn’t do that everything was cool.
When we moved back to the States, I was amazed to find that my parents “What me Worry?” attitude about knives also applied to projectile weapons like wrist rockets, bb guns, and actual firearms. So for the two years (7th and 8th grade) I lived at Ft. Benning I did a lot of shooting. In addition to shooting a hell of lot of cans with my bb guns, I also belonged to the Jr. Rifle Club (JRC) on post where I learned how to shoot a .22 small bore. There were also a few “field trips” for me and some of the other advanced shooters from the JRC where we got to go to the real range and bust off shots with 9s, M-16s, and M-60s. During one of those trips our instructors gave us the Army’s Expert Marksman test, which I passed at the age of 13. So the long and the short of it is that; despite the fact that in the intervening 25 years I have become effete, latte sipping, SUV driving, condo owning, organic food eating, city living, East Coast liberal; I know how to handle a gun.
Now I haven’t shot a gun of any kind in at least eight years, so I asked the Rancher to give me a quick rundown on the weapon and ammo we were using we went out hunting the first time. We were shooting a .375 with cartridges that were designed for, “Extra Large, Dangerous African Game.” Overkill for an elk and pretty much guaranteed to drop any deer that you hit. In addition to using cartridges that were designed to take down wildebeests and rhinos and shit, there was also a scope on the gun. 
We spot some deer and I jump out, flick the safety off the gun, lean over the hood of the truck, line up my shot, squeeze the trigger, and “Click.” I forgot to chamber a cartridge, rookie mistake. Bubba and his Dad erupt in peals of laughter. Not two minutes later I get another shot but this time I make sure the gun is ready to fire and my aim is true, the deer goes down like a ton of bricks. I ask the Rancher what’s next and he says we’ll leave that one for the coyotes.
We continue up the mountain and we see a pretty decent sized 4 or 5 point buck that heads down a coulee where I can get a good shot. At this point I’m still buzzing with adrenaline from the first kill and instead of lining up on the larger buck, I take aim at the small buck that’s with him without realizing it. I breathe out, squeeze, and drop the smaller deer. Now the big buck takes off and we figure out that I lined up on the wrong deer. I blame my spotter. Two shots, two kills; not bad for someone who hadn’t touched a gun in almost a decade.
I talk about a lot of people in my blog, my relationship with some of them is obvious and others not so much. I've kind of got it in my head that a list of the cast of characters in my life and my relationship to them might be helpful for future reference. Eventually I'll probably alphabetize them and put in HTML anchors, but for now I'm just gonna write them up as they pop into my head.
WifeRat - My heart and soul, my life partner and a true inspiration to me. Yeah she gets on my nerves sometimes, but what are you gonna do? We've been married for five years and things are getting better all the time.
BabyRat - If there's anyone on the planet I love more than my wife, it's BabyRat. She'll be four years old in March and might be the smartest and most beautiful little girl on the planet, so says her proud Poppa.
SisterRat - My younger sister (I'm 39, she's 36) who also lives in DC. SisRat is a single attorney who owns her own home and drives a late model European luxury car. Single guys that have some game and are bringing something to the table, she's waiting for you.
MommaRat - My mother. Tough lady who earned a Phd when I was in my 20's. She's originally from DC and most of her family still lives in the area.
BigDaddyRat - My father. 32 year Army vet and civil rights stalwart that was once wanted for conspiracy to overthrow the gov't of Alabama. He died at the end of August, there will be a very long post on him one of these days.
Godfather Giggler (GG) - BabyRat's godfather and one of my oldest friends from high school and a fellow Army brat. He lives in Denver with his wife and they're expecting their first child in just a few months.
ButterBurger (BB) - One of my DC posse. He's originally from Wisconsin and is your typically reserved and largely unemotional midWest guys. He holds down the bar five nights a week at one of the best restaurants in Metro DC, Restaurant Eve.
SOS - Another one of my primary hangout partners and a bartender. SOS is an Air Force brat who just bought a condo with the Girlfriend of Hateration and recently quit smoking.
Go To Girl (GTG)- WifeRat's younger sister. A real estate agent who lives in Houston and the mother of N/G.
Bubba - Married to GTG and is originally from Montana, one of my several brothers-in-law and probably the one I'm closest to. I'm writing this from his parent's living room.
N/G - My nephew/godson and one of BabyRat's favorite hangout partners, he's 10 months younger than BabyRat.
??? - WifeRat's older sister that is kind of out of the picture right now. I'll come up with some sort of "nom de blog" for her later, but she should be in this original list.
Benny - Married to ??? and another one of my brothers-in-law. We enjoyed a hot and heavy bromance when WifeRat and I first started dating.
Snarf - An annoying co-worker who is named for the Thudercats character.
Deputy Dawg - Another co-worker. The deputy Program Manager of the project that I work on and a very cool older woman that rides a Harley. I've learned to turn to her for advice and wise counsel in most work situations.
The Boss - The Program Manager of the project I work on. A nice guy who likes me and has hooked me up repeatedly.
Sideshow - The President of my rugby team who lives about four blocks away from me.
Girlfriend of Hateration (GoH) - Live in girlfriend of SOS, so named because she's always complaining about stuff. If you gave GoH a million dollars the first thing she would do is start bitching about taxes.
Nanna - One half of the in-laws and StepMother of WifeRat. Tough, cool, and 100% from Minnesota; she's been nothing but good to me. When people tell me about Mother-in-law drama I thank my lucky stars that Nanna is my Mother-in-law.
Death Star, Inc. - Large (60,000 employees+) Defense Contractor that employs me. HQ for for my division is located in Reston but I pretty much never go there.
I will be adding to this list.
Being an Army brat, I've been lucky enough to travel a lot over the course of my life. So the idea that I need to keep my ears open and my mouth shut to get to know the lay of the land is a familiar one for me. I don't want to dislocate my shoulder patting myself on the back about how open-minded I am; but the ability to acclimate myself to unfamiliar surroundings, to not be afraid to expose my own ignorance, and a willingness to accept information and good advice from (what some might consider to be) unlikely sources is something I pride myself on.
The other day I mentioned that I'm really enjoying being out of my comfort zone while I'm out in the hinterlands. So again I find myself in agreement with Atlantic blogger Ta-Nehisi Coates who says that, " . . . quite of few of us writers . . . would benefit by living somewhere else besides New York or Washington, D.C. I don't think we always understand the diversity of the country. I'm talking beyond race, gender and sexual orientation."
WifeRat is from North Dakota and often accuses me of being a "ruralist" because I grew up with no idea how people who don't live in large metropolitan live their lives. As much as I'm ignorant of rural life, I'm also disdainful of what I had always assumed rural life was all about. I lay the blame for that particular deficiency and prejudice squarely at the feet of the mainstream media. But perhaps more than the media devalues rural life, it usually just ignores it as if there is nothing of value that happens in the derisively named "fly over country."
Living out here you learn interesting stuff, the men and women who live and work on the farms and ranches that provide food for us generally lead interesting and varied lives. They have funny stories to tell and knowledge to share that, while seemingly disconnected from city life, add to life's rich pageant. Just last night I learned how to poach cattle from a neighboring ranch (you cut the brand off and feed it to a very hungry dog), not something I ever plan on doing but something I'm glad I know. My father-in-law was a potato farmer for 35+ years and when we drove to Winnipeg earlier this year he could identify the crops that were growing by the side of the road, where they were in their development cycle, and what the farmer who was growing those crops needed to have a good harvest. I don't know about y'all, but I found the breadth and depth of his knowledge to be nothing short of amazing.
As I reflect more and more on what it is I gain from hearing from about poaching cattle and growing crops, what I find is that it's not so much that I have new facts that I can put to use in my daily life, but that I'm humbled by how little I know about something (food production) that's so important to my life. This revelation about the limits of my own knowledge gives me a humility that will serve me well in all areas of my life.
So after the call was made for Obama last night at 10pm our (central) time, we hit the road for Montana. I caught an hour of sleep before we left the in-law's place and slept the first two hours we were on the road before I took over behind the wheel at about midnight. We drove across western North Dakota and Eastern Montana until about 5:30am when I had to pull over to rest. I caught another two hours of sleep in the car and then not too long after we resumed our trip our route took us off the interstate.
Once the sun was up I could see that Montana is beautiful, it reminded me of the phrase "magnificent desolation". We stopped for breakfast in the thriving metropolis of Roundup, MT before coming into the home stretch of our trip. About 20 minutes outside of Lewistown it started snowing; I'm not sure of the geography of the area, but apparently we entered some mountain range. There was much rejoicing when we finally pulled into the driveway of the T Diamond Ranch.
After greeting everyone and a lot of hugging and excitement, BabyRat and my nephew/Godson (n/g) demanded to go out and play in the snow. We made a snowman and burned off some of the energy that BabyRat had built up sitting in a car for 12 hours before we had lunch. I won't bore you with the rest of the day, but it was pretty standard fare.
After we get the kids to bed and the adults are hanging out I realized that it's 10pm and I haven't done my blog post for the day. So I'm trying to excuse myself to bang out my 500 words for the day, but I'm not really sure what to tell people. I don't really want to tell them, "I'm a blogger" for two reasons. The first being I would feel like an unmitigated tool referring to myself as a blogger and the second is then they may want to read my blog. It would be fine for my sister & brother-in-law, but somehow I'm not comfortable with the idea of my brother-in-law's parents reading my piece of shit blog.
I realize this hesitance to tell people I have a blog is a weird bit of cognitive dissonance when you consider that anyone in the world can google "hill rat" and this blog is the second hit. I want people to read this blog, but I guess I just don't want certain people to read it lest I feel like I have to censor myself even further. Does this makes me a phony because I don't want some people to see behind the carefully constructed facade I present to the world?
Do any other bloggers feel the same way? It's kind of like I have a desire to keep my online life and identity separate from the rest of my life even though my life in meatspace is pretty much all I ever talk about.
PS - Special to my NaBloPoMo peeps. I pushed the send button on this post at 11:20pm Mountain time on 11/5/2008. Fuck that time stamp.
