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fake your way

the forest I wearily tread on a daily basis
Some things can make me feel so stupid. At work, I sometimes find myself in a situation where someone is asking me a question – and I have no idea what the answer is. Thing is, I should know the answer – but more likely than not I haven’t cared enough about it previously to learn it. I may have heard it a thousand times, but I just filter it right out. Thing is, I usually don’t learn until I’m burned. By that I mean I really only learn things that I don’t care about in one of two ways: by rote, or because I have to learn them. I don’t learn the answer to a question until I’m put on the spot and embarrassed for not knowing it. I don’t pick up on things unless I’m immersed in them every day. I ignore important details because I simply don’t care. It’s all about what I find interesting I guess. I am able retain knowledge I don’t care about – but if I do it’s either because I know it by heart and don’t have to commit brainspace to it or someone’s called me out for not knowing it before. It somewhat comes down to being selfish I think. I don’t want to be embarrassed, so the memory of feeling like a heel spurs me to commit something to memory.

If I care about, or am interested in, something – it sticks up there whether or not I will it. Even tho I didn’t intend for the derivation of the quadratic formula to be burned in my head, it’s there. I didn’t purposely memorize the lyrics to “We Didn’t Start the Fire,” they just stuck. My dumb old head just works that way. I don’t care about stuff I don’t care about and I don’t like doing things I don’t like to do. My selfish head will bypass stuff I should know; or commit it to rote for the short-term so I can get by, then trash it when the immediate need to remember it is gone. I’ve always been about “just getting by” when it comes to learning stuff I have no interest in. However, when it comes to learning about something that intrigues me – I attack it with some kind of hunger. Devouring all I can find and retaining a surprising amount of it for the long term.

That’s one of the things that bugs me about work (not my specific job, but work in general). Ideally, my job would involve a knowledgebase that I enjoy having and knowing. I want to have a job where I want to learn more, where I want to know that extra tidbit that sets me apart from the other guy. My best example comes from working in the music store. I used to get so much respect for how much I knew about music. My recommendations were pretty much always lauded, and eventually I had a returning-customer base who asked for me because they knew and trusted me. I liked knowing what I knew, and what’s more, it fed my ego to know it.

A job where you’re respected and praised for your knowledge, that’s what I enjoy most. I have occasional burst of that now, but the thing is – I have to care about every bit of the material related to my job in order to gain enough expertise and win that respect. If I don’t care about it, I don’t learn it, and then I don’t get that respect. Bottom line?, gimme a job doing something I intensely enjoy: webpages, music, writing, etc., and maybe it won’t even seem like a job. I shouldn’t complain, I do like what I do right now – but I find myself saddled with that same attitude of “who cares” in way too many instances. So, like so much of my academic past, I fake my way through and buckle down when I have to – and somehow get good at it.

Back in gradeschool they used to tell me, “You just can’t fake your way through middle school David, it’s the real deal.” Then, as I was graduating from three years of faked-through middle school they’d say, “Mister, you better really buckle down come high school. You just can’t breeze your way through there, there’s no ‘faking it’ in high school. You’ll be swimming with the big fish there.” Shortly after I faked my way to 6th in class and a full scholarship, my guidance counselor said “This is it David, you’re an adult now and this is your life. You won’t be able to fake your way through a job, so you better get straight.” Screw ’em, I’ll keep on fakin’. Feigning interest in whatever it takes to keep a paycheck, but secretly (between you, and me, and the entire internet), not giving a damn about anything but what I want to. Bollocks to them all, this is one ne’er-do-well who will always work the system as much as possible.

I’m truly happy when I’m listening to music and writing or reading. I’m truly happy when I’m camping or hanging with my good friends. I’m truly happy every day when I come home to my wife. I’m truly happy when I’m working on our house or yard. I’m truly happy when I can wake up in the morning knowing I have no set plans for the day, even more happy if I know the same for the next day too. I’m truly happy when I can “get away” and spend time with family or even by myself. I wonder if, regardless of vocation, there will always be that need for release via “getting away” from whatever it is that becomes your “daily grind.” Maybe true happiness only comes with the autonomy that retirement or winning the lottery brings? Yeah right.

I’ve said it to Anthony many times. While drifting down the river on his boat, no destination, no time to be back, nothing on my mind but what a nice day it is and how comfortable I am: “Dude, this is why I work.” It’s true. I work not to “better myself,” or “get ahead,” or “make a name for” myself; I work so I can enjoy the times when I’m not working. So I can pay my bills and afford to buy Anthony a tank of gas for the favor of a day on his boat. So I can afford the gear I need to take three days off and climb Half Dome with my friends. So I can take Sharaun to a nice steak dinner and still afford her favorite candy at the movie. All those self help books that talk about getting ahead and getting noticed or whatnot, you can have that trash. I need surprisingly few things to make me truly happy, and work is not one of them. Unfortunately, by way of association – money is. Not money itself mind you, but money nonetheless. So, I work. And will continue to do so. Work is a (by and large unfulfilling) means to an end.

Wow, a semi-personal entry, a thing of blog lore. I admit to a bit of job dissatisfaction (in that it’s not my #1 dream job), I admit that my learning is largely selfishly motivated, and I admit that I need some ego stroking to make me truly happy.

In other news, I found this article quite relevant.

Dave out.

Posted on

beyond grunts and gestures

No particular reason, I just truly love the Andy Griffith show... I suppose there was a tenuous connection with the vacation theme...
Concert in San Francisco last night. Show was great, like a crazy band orgy or something. Each act was some combination of members from all three, and at one point I counted eleven people on stage, including two trombones and two trumpets. They made a glorious rock noise. What more can I say? Got lost trying to get to the venue. Got back late. I won’t dwell on it too much, you’ve heard it before.

Vacation: soon. Seriously, I am getting mad antsy. I want some real downtime, like where nothing goes on. Thanksgiving should be just that. Lay around by the fire and read a book, sleep. I’ve been wondering about how the blog will fare over the holiday. Since we’re going out of town, to a place with no phone in our room… I’m not entirely sure if I’ll be able to do the daily blog. I mean, the lodge will be a great place to get some writing done – I just may not have a way to upload it. Guess I’ll just wait and see.

This recording jones is getting pretty bad. I’ve got a mental tally running on how much it would cost to get a few second-hand instruments and a fourtrack. I’d really only need a guitar, bass, keyboard/synth, and the fourtrack. I can use Fruity Loops for the drum track, or just bang on whatever. I’m just hesitant to spend the money and then never use the stuff. And it is kind of a strange idea considering my talent amounts to being barely able to pluck out Teen Spirit on the bass.

I was working on a “morph” of the gradeschool pictures from yesterday’s blog, mostly because I’ve never done a morph before and I thought it’d be cool. If it comes out OK I might post it here. I was once again mining my old journals for blog fodder the other day, so much of my writing style is embarrassing when I look back on it. Comes off sounding like I’m trying to be all “thoughtful” or something. Ugh. Anyway, I did find a couple entries I thought were interesting. If for nothing else than just to confirm to me that I’ve always had dumb thoughts about cavemen.

I was thinking about this one as I pulled out of the parking lot the other day after work. It was a hot day, and the sun had turned the cab of the Ford into an oven. I hate climbing into a sun-baked car, the heat is so “thick” as it hits my head and gives me an instant mini-headache. The AC only blows hot air for the first 30 seconds, and the seats and steering wheel burn you. Even the music sounds bad at first. So, that got me thinking, how much I don’t like getting into the car while it’s so hot – but how I do it anyway because I need to get in the car to get home. And I want to be home more than I don’t want to be in the hot car. So, that got me thinking about “choice.”

So, I started thinking. Have advances in technology ultimately increased or decreased our freedom of choice. I mean, one of the main selling points of “new” and “improved” technologies is the greater freedom the endow us with. Such as the freedom to order movie tickets online, and skip the line on opening night. Or the freedom to climb in a car and drive home at 70 mph instead of jumping on a horse or walking. So, I was thinking that technology in a way increases our freedoms, but that increase comes at the premium of having many more things to make decisions about. I got to thinking about way back in the hunter-gatherer days of nomadic people. Small tribes, who move with the food or weather, only stopping in one place as long it provides the basics needed for existence. Perhaps not even having a spoken language beyond grunts and gestures. Did these people have a greater freedom of choice than us? Well, it depends. In actuality, “freedom of choice” is kind of an oxymoron. Freedom would to me means unrestricted possibilities, and choice implies a finite number of options. Not an oxymoron in the true sense, but enough of one to make the thought interesting in my head.

So then, what did these people have? Not much! But their choices were extremely limited compared to what we have to choose from. They either hunted, gathered, or died. I mean, on the detailed level, there were still millions of tiny choices being made – but the number certainly was much less than what faces us today. When they were hungry, they chose to get something to eat. But it did not involve deciding between eating out or cooking in, Italian or Sushi, etc. It was go hunt some animal and eat it. How do you get to the food? Take a bus, ride a bike, drive? Nope – you walk. Do you need to go to the ATM and get cash, or do they take a debit card? Do you have ketchup at home or do you need the little packets? Nope, you throw a sharp rock at a rabbit’s head and hope you kill it. If you miss, you stay hungry.

Anyway, my point was: We, in this age of technology, are often forced to make unappealing choices in order to achieve a desired outcome. Back then, did you ever have to do anything you didn’t want to? Were things so basic and primal that we just avoided doing unpleasant things altogether? If you don’t like it – don’t do it. Right? That’s basic, that’s primal, that’s something logical. I thought I was right, I thought that those people – when faced with walking back to where they slept last night or just laying down when they got tired, would just lay down – since the extra effort walking to last night’s camp wouldn’t offer any bonus and wouldn’t be worth the effort. I, however, climb into the hot car when I really don’t want to – because I need to get home.

Owell, it was a good thought for about 5 minutes, until I realized it was stupid. And that everyone at some point has to choose to do something unpleasant to get what they want. What if you were a squeamish hunter, and really didn’t like blood and guts. But, you still have to eat – and you have to clean your kill before you cook and eat it. Guess what, that guy is gonna work through his dislike of blood and guts to get dinner, so he won’t die. So for me it’s a hot car, and for cavemen it’s something else altogether. We’ve always had to make crap choices to achieve desired outcomes, it’s a part of life.

See, yuck. Sounds like I’m being all pretentious and “insightful.” Whatever, I needed something to fill the pages, and it was already written, and it made me laugh because I still daydream about crap like that today.

Man, I really misuse and abuse the comma and hyphen. Sorry for the crappy entry, sorry for the terrible grammar.

Dave out.

Posted on

i been around

show flyer from the GAMH
Tonight’s the Broken Social Scene / Stars show in SF. I don’t feel like writing anything about it, but I’ll do the customary wrap-up tomorrow. Remember I snuck my camera into the Death Cab show the night before last? Well, I put together a lil’ movie of the footage I captured during the show. The sound is crappy because the big rock noise easily overpowered the tiny integrated mic, but you can kinda discern enough to bob your head in time. Most of you won’t enjoy it, but I had fun making it – and who knows, maybe there are some closet indie fans reading this thing… Anyway, here it is for broadband and also for dialup (both are sizeable files, so beware).

Evolution of a blogger:


1st grade:
Holy crap that is one cute kid! Don’t worry, I used up all the looks early in life.		        
2nd grade:
Hmm…. looks like I may have been crying, or pinching a loaf. Cuteness definitely on the decline already.

3rd grade:
Ahh… “the teeth years.” Notice at this point I’ve still got a pretty well-defined chin, keep that in mind.		        
4th grade:
Clean-cut, mom still buying clothes… becoming quite the lanky thing too.

5th grade:
Whoa! I’ve obviously had a hand in that t-shirt, and that haircut too! Spiky and bemulleted, I am a force to be reckoned with.		        
6th grade:
Awww… the drugstore clerks would have never suspected this babyfaced darling was stealing cigarettes by the carton and selling them to the track team.

7th grade:
Hmm… what’s it called when you start to look all awkward and your face gets greasy? Oh yeah, puberty – seen here in full, undeniable, effect. Note the “what the crap?!” hairstyle – it only gets worse…		        
8th grade:
What, the, crap. Seriously… The hair, the face, the eyes pointing in two different directions?… The eyebrows, and that smile? My head is a near-perfect sphere I think. Where are my ears? Check out that adams apple! You believe this kid had a steady girlfriend?

9th grade:
Well, at least I look a little more proportioned. I don’t know if I ever even did anything with my hair, it looks so… big. Note the subtle blending of chin and neck, pretty soon the two will complete their synergy and become a single entity.		        
10th grade:
Oh yeah, sophomore year. The height of my hooliganism, you can almost see the authority-defiance in my eyes. I think I look particularly cocksure in this photo – it’s a wonder I didn’t get beat up more.

11th grade:
I brought a picture of Thom Yorke in the “Creep” video with me when I asked for this haircut. Seriously. At the time, I loved it. By this time I’ve ditched most of my old friends for my new girlfriend… a dick move that surely saved me some jailtime or brain damage in the long run.		        
12th grade:
It took me twelve years of school before I looked semi-presentable. Sharaun got me cleaned up pretty nice in the end tho. Here I am with my new hair “style” (with highlights!), some chic earrings, and my soon-to-be-trademark confused smile.

Wow, what a multimedia-rich blog this turned out to be. Movies, pictures, scanned in flyers… I put entirely too much work into these things. I have a lot of other stuff written, maybe I should just throw in a random pre-written paragraph….

Sometimes I go to the bathroom for no other reason than to “run a check.” C’mon, don’t play coy with me… you know what I’m talking about. I mean, sometimes I just get this “feeling,” call it a cautionary thing. I’m sitting on the couch, thinking “things just don’t feel right… maybe I should hit the bathroom for a ‘test wipe’ real quick.” Yeah, I said it, I don’t be carin’. Usually it’s a false alarm, but sometimes… I wonder, perhaps that’s not normal. Maybe I’m not working right, from a functional perspective. Anyway, the way I look at it – at least I go check. Right?

Ahh, much better. OK that’s it. Enjoy the pictures and the movie.

Dave out.

Posted on

in the first person

being Dave Davis
Four o’clock. Better roll outta here if I’m gonna swing by the house and pick up Sharaun and still be back at work to grab Benz at five. Glad Wes agreed to cover my five o’clock call, that was nice of him. Truck’s gassed up, got a Death Cab mp3 comp for the ride, and Ben said he had the tickets: check, check, and check. Pick up Melissa downtown and we’ll be good to go. Man, I always love rolling into the driveway of the house we own, just always makes me happy.

On the road already. Surprised Sharaun got ready so quickly, I barely had time to scan in some pictures for a future blog article. “Sharaun, can you call Ben and tell him we’ll be at work to get him in a few minutes? Thanks.” I hope traffic isn’t that bad between here and San Fran, I really don’t wanna miss any of Nada Surf’s opening set. “Hey, one of you call Melissa and let her know we’re almost to her building.” No, I don’t care that I’m parked on the sidewalk. What?! OK, I’ll move into this alley. Sheesh, Sharaun is gettin’ on my nerves telling me where to park.

I hope Melissa was her usual diligent self and printed directions to the Fillmore. I know we were just there a couple weeks ago, but I never remember directions. If not, I’ll just work with Ben and combine our memory to get a general idea. Oh, you left the directions in your trunk on accident? That’s cool, I’m sure we’ll be able to find it, even tho I have no idea where to go.

I think it picks up after we merge off 5 onto 80, we’re just stopped because they’re metering. We should be cool. Where you guys wanna eat? Seriously? How can you not like Arbys? I thought everyone liked Arbys. OK, how about Taco Bell? Yeah! In-n-Out sounds good, there’s one off that exit in Davis. Damn, I don’t have any cash. Why don’t I ever have cash? I hate borrowing cash all the time. Sometimes I wish Sharaun would carry some. Owell, thanks for the loan. Number one or number two… hmm… “Lemme have a number one with grilled onions please. No, to go.” Bummer, I shoulda tried out that “animal style” thing Anthony was talking about. Owell. Why the crap is Ben’s burger taking so long?

Eating this burger and driving isn’t that bad, I thought it would be messier, I’m doing a pretty good job here. I know, I’ll just hold the fries and steering wheel at the same time, and hunch over to make sure I don’t drop one on my new Kiss shirt. What’s that? Is that a cop? Was that them talking? Loudspeaker: “If you’re gonna eat, you need to pull over. You can’t eat and drive.” Dang… OK, I’m done anyway. Glad they didn’t decide to be real jerks and pull me over, I was going like 10 over too. That was funny, sounded almost like it was coming from the song on the radio, weird.

Awww crap, the Bay Bridge is all taillights. I think it’s the stupid toll booth, they meter right after it. Crap, how do I get out of this FastTrak lane? Stupid dude, his fault if I almost hit him – creeping into my lane like that. Thanks for the $2 Ben. Yes babe, I know you have to pee – we’ll stop as soon as we’re over the bridge. Come to think of it, I really have to pee too. “What you think Ben, Harrison/Embarcadero or 9th St./Civic Center?” OK, I’m just gonna take Harrison. I am looking for Kearny. Pine, that sounds good – I’m going left on Pine. Kearny! This doesn’t look right… let’s go left on Columbus. I dunno.. I think there’s an SF map in the back pocket back there. Chevron, we can pee here. Melissa and Ben can figure out where we are while we go.

South on Kearny? OK no problem. Right on Geary, cool. There’s that AMC Kabuki – we’re getting close. Can’t miss that dang u-turn again, remember it’s impossible to get to going this direction. Thanks. We’re making good time, it’s only ten after eight. We should catch Nada Surf no problem since that ham-n-egger is opening. Is that a spot right there? Awesome! Ben, can you get out and direct me? How much room do I have. Sweet, that was an easy parallel.

It’s not really that cold, I wonder if I should take off the undershirt? Hold on while I shove this camera in my boxers. Wow, it’s not that uncomfortable… too bad it’s nestled between my jewels and a-hole. Owell. Wait hang on, I’m gonna have to readjust here… this thing wants to migrate… OK, cool. Sorry, no extras. They patting down? It’s just a bottle opener on my keychain – I’ve had it since 5th grade. “Hey Melissa, the ladies room is to the left.” I’m gonna hit the men’s room myself and do a camera extraction. Dude! That’s Nada Surf on right now! It’s only 8:20, wassup? The tickets say doors at 7!? Owell, that sucks – but at least we’re here. Guys, check it out! That’s Vanderslice over there… that guy is everywhere.

Man, the pictures are coming out all blurred. It’s the low light. Dang, they sound great – I always love the sound here, great acoustics. I’ll just set it on “auto” instead of “manual” low-light. Awesome! Much better. Hey, let’s press up to the stage now while people leave between sets. Awesome, this is a really good spot. I should be able to get some good pics from here.

Wow, Gibbard looks different than I remember. Holy crap they sound great. Yeah, that girl in the pink is cute. Lotta older stuff so far huh? Pictures seem to be coming out so/so depending on the stage lighting at the time. Oh, I’ll take a movie! Wow, this is awesome – seems to be picking up a lot more of the light, and I should be getting sound too. Why can’t I zoom while taking a movie? That kinda blows. Oh crap I haven’t cleared the memory card… running low. Deleting Halloween pictures that I’ve already saved. Awesome.

What a great set. Gibbard’s voice sounds excellent. A Cure cover?, that’s cool. That thing with his shoes was hilarious. Hope the encore lasts a while. Bob head, sing along, hold Sharaun’s hands and massage her shoulders. Good temperature in here, that fan feels good. My knees are getting tired. Great encore, these guys rock live. I really think they are one of my favorite modern bands, so creative. Cool poster, I love that you always get a poster from Fillmore shows.

No, I’ll just drive until I see a Bay Bridge sign. There’s one. Anyone need to pee? Shell station, OK. I dunno, tune the iTrip to 88.7 FM. That thing sucks, what’s up with the static? Forget it, let’s just listen to cd’s. They’re all scratched… I need to take better care of them, this sucks. Dang I’m getting tired. No Krispy Kreme tonight, I’m not even bringing it up. We have a chance to get in bed before 3am this time. Half a tank should be enough.

“See you guys later, drive careful.” Can’t wait to get in bed. 1:22am, not too bad. Not much worse than a regular late-night. The sheets are cold, I love that feeling. Your hands are freezing, like ice. Hey Keeper, how ya been? Sleepy.

“Had a good time tonight, you? Yeah, me too. I love you. Goodnight.”

Posted on

fighting chance

no really, it's a line from Magical Mystery Tour
Tonight is the Death Cab / Nada Surf show in SF. I’m gonna try and sneak my camera in with me and take some pix for tomorrow’s blog. After that we have the Wednesday show in SF, and then our concert rush is over for a while. I’m glad, because as much as I love going to shows, I get tired of being tired the next day. Too bad Sacramento can’t get the big indie names like San Francisco can, would be a much shorter drive.

This weekend was a good one for new tunes. Wednesday at work I read a Pitchfork album review of a group called the Unicorns, which garnered really high marks. Like clockwork, someone posted it to absmi that evening. I grabbed two Unicorns albums, and on Sunday Benz recommended I check absmi again for another favorably reviewed album by a group called the Wrens. Man, the Unicorns albums are excellent – and from my brief run at the Wrens it is also awesome. Those new albums, combined with the new hotness that is the Decemberists, makes November a watershed month for new music. Finally some sweet new tunes to listen to.

Speaking of Ben, he’s got some new pictures up on his website which are worth checking out. I’m kinda envious of the new Flash-based album layout, but whatever. Take a gander if you’re bored.

I have a pretty high tolerance for just about everything. If you charted my tolerance for stuff, I think it would look something like this. See, I get unnaturally crazy over some really dumb stuff – but can generally take commonly deemed “major” crises in stride. My car gets crashed into? Somewhere towards the middle of the graph, so taken very lightly by me. I lose my job? I’m upset, but not irrational. Actually, the “breakdown” axis is somewhat misleading in that I don’t mean it’s when I would be “broken down” in the sense of being mentally frazzled – I’m rather referring to a state of “breakdown” that would cause something like tears or irrational behavior. What I mean is, the things that tend to make me punch walls, say things I wish I hadn’t, cuss and swear when I shouldn’t – these are the “breakdown” or loss-of-control type things I’m talking about. If my truck got stolen, yeah I would waste a lot of brainpower thinking how sucky it is, but it wouldn’t push my buttons in such a way that I might lose control and throw things, or cry.

Things that would normally really piss someone off usually roll off me with ease (although that’s not at all a 100% thing). Likewise, things that other people might shrug off as “a bummer” or “no big deal” tend to really get under my skin. It’s a blessing and a curse. I can take so much without flinching that I’ve been praised before for my “level-headed” reaction to complicated situations, whereas I’ve also been criticized for letting stupid little things make me fly off the handle. Sharaun probably sees it the most.

I tend to be my most calm and logical-thinking right after something “terrible” has just gone down. It’s like I get this moment of clarity where I realize that whatever just happened really isn’t that big of a deal, and then my brain kicks in and starts thinking on what to do next. However, when something small happens, it seems like my brain forgets logic and tells my fist to punch an inanimate object or my mouth to say something I’ll regret. Hit a kid on a bike?: Stop the car, deep breaths, save his life and get in the newspaper. Hit my thumb with a hammer?: Yell cursewords at the top of my lungs, throw the hammer at the ground, and punch the wood I’m working on. See – it’s not the best approach to things. Even more stupid, my response to unexpected pain is to do something without thinking that more often than not causes me even more pain. Example? I stub my toe on the door, get insanely mad because it hurts, punch the doorframe – and hurt my hand.

I think, nay know, that my tolerance for stuff came directly from my dad. I lived with my folks until I was almost 20, and in that time I rarely saw my dad get mad. In fact, if I think about it – I bet he’s the exact same way. I’ve seen him crazy-aggravated over tiny things; and then seen him take big, seemingly earthshattering, events without so much as a hitch in his getalong. This laissez faire attitude rolls over into all aspects of my personality. Not much upsets me, and you have to do a heck of a lot to provoke me to anger, even more to get me to manifest that anger into violence. I’ve been in only a few fights, but I think I’ve won them all because I am so fired up by the time I’m moved to hitting that it’s pure adrenaline. Either that or because I’m fat and always have a weight advantage… Here’s a semi-complete pictorial review of my fighting history:

6th grade: I punched this kid because he would not get off the computer and I wanted to use it.

6th grade:  I punched this kid because he cut in front of me at the water fountain.

7th grade: I punched this kid because he tried to take some candy off my desk.

12th grade (no pic avail):  I fought this kid because he pushed Sharaun. She helped out by kicking him in the ribs while I sat on him and repeatedly punched the back of his dome. We both got suspended.

Well I wrote three paragraphs but I’m not convinced I said what I wanted to say at all. I’m a pacifist, but not a weakling. I’ll send my food back if it’s wrong, but I’m not an asshole. Rather than confront you, I’ll ignore you. I’ll talk about you behind your back, but rarely tell you how I really feel. I’m longsuffering, but won’t let you walk all over me. The less I like you, the less likely I am to get into a “fight” with you. Conversely, the closer we are, the more likely I am to be willing to get into it with you. There ya go, that’s all I gotsta say about that.

See, no stories from 8th grade. No love letters, no drug overdoses. Just writing. I can do it after all.

Dave out.

Posted on

out of the past

it wasn't quite this bad... but the house is kinda drafty now...
Hey, I got stuff to write!

Last night Wes came over to help me with another “project” I’ve been wanting to do. The puny one-bulb wall light that came in our garage is just not enough to light that place up. Since it’s attached to a switch inside the laundry room, I’ve been wanting to rewire that switch to ignore that tiny light and instead control a new shop light that I would mount from the garage rafters. Sounds easy enough right? Problem is, I’m cursed.

When it comes to “mechanical” projects I am utterly hopeless. Murphy’s Law seems to be in full effect every time I have to use hammer, nail, drill or saw. It’s just the way it’s always been. I have a feeling I inherited it, because I can remember helping my dad and uncle hang paneling in our spare room once – you know where you slather the back of the paneling with something not unlike Liquid Nail and press it against the existing wall? Yeah, we got about three or four panels in place and realized we had been hanging them upside down. Too bad that glue binds stronger than anything on earth… we just hung the rest upside down. Pretty little flowers, all growing right down towards the floor. There are so many more examples… but I think you get the idea.

Anyway, since Wes had successfully done some wiring projects at his house – his resume impressed me, so I asked if he wouldn’t mind helping me out. Being the sucka he is, he graciously agreed. He had previously hung a shop light in his own garage, as well as put in a couple ceiling fans and done other miscellaneous projects. He also once recounted to me a story in which, during one of his projects, he managed to put a knee through his ceiling from the attic. Sounded bad, but I wasn’t worried. Looking back, I shoulda realized that Wes had a history…

We made a couple trips to the Home Depot (see, you can never go to the HD only once for a project… it always requires at least two trips – one usually involving a return or exchange) to get the necessary tools and materials. After which we studied the problem, ordered some iffy take-out Chinese, and got ready to work. The initial work went great, we hung the shop light and drilled a new wire hole in the in the to-be-bypassed light wiring box, all in little time. With our spirits up, we headed into the attic with the fish tape to drop a new wire into the existing light box.

Fishing wires through existing walls is hard; not to mention supremely frustrating. I don’t think anything can be as aggravating as trying to hit a 1″ area from above with a metal tape, and doing it all blind, while breathing dust and insulation. After much cussing and sweating, we finally managed to fish a wire through. After some wire-nutting, drilling, and breaker-tripping, we finally managed to get everything done. I now have a super bright shop light hooked to the switch. It’s like noon in that garage now, I love it.

Ahhh… but I skipped the good part… As we were toiling in the attic trying to fish the wire through the garage wall – Wes Vila struck again. Yup, you got it right. Crash! Right through our laundry room ceiling. All I can say is, I managed to not fall through the roof… maybe the effects of gravity are slightly more on Wes than all other humans or something. Anyway, check it out:


wes’ hole, i stuck my hand thru and “pointed” in case you couldn’t see it		        
every time we open or close the garage door, a snowstorm of insulation comes raining down

despite wes’ “accident,” i have a beautiful new shop light!		        
my attempt to get the switch action and new light in the same shot… worked ok i suppose.

Anyway, I still gotta thank Wes for coming and helping me out. New skylight notwithstanding, we got a lot done in one evening – and my new light is awesome!! Although I did have to update my “list of jobs I think I might like:”

  • Farmer
  • Mammographer
  • Special Effects Wizard
  • Video Game Tester
  • Fishing Show Host
    
  • Firework Maker
  • Standup Comedian
  • Rock Star
  • Retaining Wall Builder
  • Home Wiring Expert

Did you guys notice the comment from “Shaine” on the blog yesterday? Holy crap man, lemme ‘splain a little.

Shaine and I were best buds way back in 5th grade. I’m pretty sure we were the two coolest kids at our whole school, at least that’s what we thought. We “owned” the last two swings on the line of swingsets (the farthest from the schoolbuildings, so we could cuss and tell dirty jokes without fear of punishment). If people were in them, they would actually get out when they saw us coming. Shaine lived across the field from me, and we used to run across the field and climb his backyard fence when going between houses (the farmer didn’t like it very much). Man, did we have some awesome times… I’ll write about them sometime. I just wanted to mention it because it blew my mind to finally talk to him again (on IM). Thanks for reading, and commenting. If all goes well – we plan to hook up again when I go down to visit my folks next, possibly even visit some of our old haunts in Lompoc. I’m totally pumped.

Finally, sorry this blog is so late… but honestly, it’s pretty big and kinda complicated. Little images and bulleted lists in tables, man… crazy. Hope you enjoyed it.

Dave out.

Posted on

wasting time

which of you gen-x'ers out there can spot this?
Late and light blogging today, as usual I wrote the entry last night, but didn’t get a chance to upload right away. My apologies to the blog-faithful (do they exist?). Holy crap I found a fun website last night. Check this out, it’s a sincere site that allows you to make custom “safety signs,” printable ones at that. Doesn’t look terribly fun right? But oh man is it. I played around with it for a while last night and created some signs. I made this one and this one and this one and this one and this one and, just in case, this one.

Pat sent me this link today, I got a chuckle from it. The Onion always comin’ correct with quality. I never thought of hiding my blog from the moms and/or pops, I think they pretty much know I’m a good lil’ kid now – and they probably pretty much know what a bad lil’ kid I was so long ago. Either way, they gonna find out.

Mercedez Benz is in Taiwan right now, but when he gets back we got a new load of concertin’ to do. We have the much-anticipated Death Cab / Nada Surf show, as well as the possible wildcard show from Broken Social Scene / The Stars. Should be a good week!

OK I’m spent. Brain frazzled, not in a writing mood. Enjoy the signs, enjoy the links, bash the article in the comments… whatever.

Dave out.