High School - Yes we sort of did go to high school together, I was there for one year. If you have your 95-96 edition of the year book, what ever it is called, turn to the freshmen and you will find me listed as Kenneth Pepwick, even though that is no where near my name. There isn't even a kid with that name in the school that year, so it wasn't just a casual mistake of name swapping. That guy flat out didn't exist, but I got his name. I left after that and returned to Pennsylvania.
Skating - I first started watching in 1992 when Kristi Yamaguchi was the phenom at the Olympics and was hooked from then on. Even back then I had a problem with commentators. Caryn Kadavy and I share the same home town.
Dating - I know I don't have to date and I don't have a problem persay with being single. I'm very co-dependent and like being in a relationship. Part of the problem is that I always feel weird hanging out with my friends who are 99% married. I don't know if it's the military or what but a lot of them seem to be married young and even my "civilian" friends are mostly married or in a serious relationship. So I'm always the squeaky third or fifth wheel. That's not the primary reason of course, but it's up there.
So feel free to stop by and leave comments, I'm always happy to know that others are reading.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Monday, January 16, 2006
Life In Lyrics
Pick A Band/Musician and Use Their Song Titles For the Answer
Artist: Dave Matthews
[1] Are you male or female? Jimi Thing
[2] Describe yourself? Some Devil
[3] How do you feel about yourself? Proudest Monkey
[4] Describe what you are thinking right now? Crush
[5] Describe your current girlfriend? Pay For What You Get
[6] Describe where you currently live? Busted Stuff
[7] If you could go anywhere, where would you go? Grey Street
[8] What would you ask for if you had just one wish? Hunger For The Great Light
[9] You know that: So Much To Say
[10] What's the weather like? Typical Situation
[11] If your life was a television show, what would it be called? Stay Or Leave
[12] What is life to you? Last Stop
[13] What is the best advice you have to give? Cry Freedom
[14] If you could change your name, what would you change it to? American Baby
Artist: Dave Matthews
[1] Are you male or female? Jimi Thing
[2] Describe yourself? Some Devil
[3] How do you feel about yourself? Proudest Monkey
[4] Describe what you are thinking right now? Crush
[5] Describe your current girlfriend? Pay For What You Get
[6] Describe where you currently live? Busted Stuff
[7] If you could go anywhere, where would you go? Grey Street
[8] What would you ask for if you had just one wish? Hunger For The Great Light
[9] You know that: So Much To Say
[10] What's the weather like? Typical Situation
[11] If your life was a television show, what would it be called? Stay Or Leave
[12] What is life to you? Last Stop
[13] What is the best advice you have to give? Cry Freedom
[14] If you could change your name, what would you change it to? American Baby
Get Off My Fence!
Jealousy is a mother isn't it? Here I am jealous of someone's lifestyle who I'm sure is just as jealous of mine. I'm sure that not everything I'm told is true, but it makes me jealous and I think that my jealousy makes them happy in some strange way. All the while, they are feeling the same way I am. Yet, here we both are wanting what the other has and not getting it. People always take what they have for granted, it's human nature I think. The grass is always greener, but, when we jump the fence we land in cow shit most of the time. So why then do we keep fence hopping yard to yard? I guess you could argue that if we don't we'll never advance in the world. If we were not willing to take a chance we would be stuck in our "Allentown" for the rest of our lives. Content with our spouse, 2.5 children, cat, dog, three bedroom, 1 and half bath, white picket fence house, but we would never take our nuclear family and move them to that house on the hill. There is a flip side to that coin though, we always run the risk of making a bad choice and jumping not only into the cow shit but the junk yard dog as well. Some people can use those as learning experiences and know not to go into Old Man Johnson's yard anymore, but some of us get stuck there and don't know how we got into that scary place. So here I am writing to people I don't know are reading except for two and one of them I know very well, while the other I'm trying to reconnect with, reconnect because I think I hopped the wrong fence. The past always has that effect on me, I like to say I don't regret anything I've done, but I think I do more than I want to admit. I ask the higher power, who ever it may be, why did certain events happen to me, why did I go left and not right and the other way around. I've been told that you shouldn't do that and it's not good for you, but F.O. because I am doing it and will continue to do it, it's me, it's Adam. I still keep plugging away at life and I keep an eye on what is behind me, but I don't walk backwards. Maybe along the way I can right the wrongs and who knows what gate may be opened up to me and I can walk into the yard instead of risking bodily harm by falling off the fence. I know that I'm on the right path and that I'm destined to be better than the one I'm jealous of, but sometimes you wonder. That yard has all the toys and latest swingset and all the kids are laughing and playing games, while my yard is small with only a couple kids and a rusty swing set. Let's flip the coin again and look at it from their yard, they may be thinking that all those kids are only there for the new toys and superior swing set and that the few kids on the rusty set seem to be having so much more fun, because they really are friends and not just yard crashers who will move along when the next model swing set comes out in someone else's yard. Then again maybe none of this makes any sense to anyone who happens to stop by and it's just the merlot talking. At least I know what I'm talking about though...
"Turning back, she just laughs, the boulevard is not that bad"
"I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad, the dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had"
"Turning back, she just laughs, the boulevard is not that bad"
"I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad, the dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had"
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Ranting
Sasha and the Trash Barge
It's 9:23 and about my bedtime (insert pathetic joke here) but I'm watching the figure skating championships on ESPN 2 (The Ocho! If you saw Dodgeball you'll get the joke) while surfing the web. Q is in bed singing to himself and it's pretty cute in a way, and I can't stop laughing about it, even though I should tell him to get some sleep. I've gone to the kitchen a poured myself a glass of wine and my favorite, Sasha Cohen, is up...a very good performance in my humble uneducated opinion. It's the highest scoring one so far.
I love figure skating, I love the gracefulness of it and watching people do something that I can't do. I hate it when the commentators have to tell me what is wrong with every single performance though. Shut Up! Let me enjoy the talent and the music and I don't care if they missed the skate placement of their triple luggy trachiotomy. I know I couldn't do it, so shut up and let me enjoy it. Talk in between the skater's show, talk while the judges write on their cards, talk during something I don't care about. It's like the time I was in Baltimore staying on my unlce's sailboat, which was docked in the Inner Harbor. There I was watching the sun rise over the downtown buildings, the city was waking up, traffic was starting to move, and it was the perfect summer morning. Those of you that know me know that I love cities. I love high rise glass and concrete. I couldn't have asked for anything better when all of a sudden a trash barge comes rambling along filling the air with some foul smell and horrible noise, I was in Baltimore so only God knows what or who was in that pile making that smell so bad. It shattered the tranquility of the morning. That's what these morons are like to me, shattering the tranquility of Sasha Cohen's performance.
Web Love
While I was on the internet I typed in the wonderful Google box "Dating Sucks" because, well, recently it does for me. I hate being single and as much as I try to convince myself I'm better off alone, I just know I'm not. Sorry C.J., I'm trying and I can't take it. Anyway, I'm going to Pittsburgh next month with a group to go to see my beloved Penguins hockey team. I was all excited about it until someone made a joke, the didn't mean any harm by it, but, it was about me being "El Cinco". What is that? Well it is me because I am going with a group of four, two couples. Two happy relationships and me, Ole Cinco, the spare fith wheel that sits under the mats in your trunk.
As much as I hate being single, I hate the dating game even more; a terrible dilemma, I know. I hate how fake the "dating game" is. Right there, we call it a game. A game is supposed to be fun, this isn't fun. Let's look at a typical first date, no, let's start before that, let's go back to the first impression. Boy sees Girl, Girl sees Boy, in a split second a terabyte of thought goes through each of their minds. Thoughts about attraction, physical features, sub-conscience thoughts about sex, marriage, children; yes it does go that deep with a first impression. We're talking biological stuff now and each of us have instinct to reproduce, even if we never do or we deny those thoughts. So let's say that this person meets your standards, let the games begin. Now you have to get courage to talk to Her, I say her because I'm a Him and because even 50 years post Dwight and Mami Eisenhower, it's still up to the man to make the first move. As I make my approach the first impression is still being made, and I have to not act like an idiot, but not like an ass either. So I strike up a conversation, which is either going to go one of two ways, either complete acceptance or complete rejection. Are we having fun yet? I'm going to give Him the benefit and figure that there is acceptance. Maybe phone numbers are exchanged, here comes some more game day strategy, how long do I wait to call? I don't want to seem like I don't care, but I don't want to seem so desperate. Girls like assholes, so maybe I should act like I don't care, but I really like her. Two days, no wait, make it three, yeah three, good solid odd number, but I really want to talk to her...oh fuck it, it's probably the wrong number anyway. Am I starting to sound like a John Cusack movie yet? So you call, how many days you waited is up to you, and you get the dreaded voice mail (please insert some heavy dramatic music), her message starts telling you how she can't come to the phone right now, yadda, yadda, yadda. Meanwhile your head is racing, what do I say? Your back to the good guy/asshole routine again. Should I leave a message at all? I'll just hang up and...Too late! BEEP! "Duh Duh Uhh this is ____ Just calling you, uhh, I guess your not around (No shit dummy, hence the voice mail) I guess I'll talk to you later or you can call me...Uhhh, bye." Oh the Mighty Case struck out. What an idiot! Guess what Gentle Reader? We haven't even got to the first date yet and we're assuming that He even had the courage to talk to Her in the first place and not go back to his hole and say how hot she was. Welcome to my world!
Granted that was an elaboration, but not to far from the truth. Some of the articles I read are telling me all these dating "rules" that contradict eachother and tell me to put on this fake persona. I'm pretty personable, but also shy. That's who I am. This rules tell me to change who I am to get a girl. Why, so she can find out later that she doesn't like the real me? I have a friend who when he and his wife where dating used to go out a lot. He likes going out, she doesn't, but she covered up this fact to make him happy. They got married and she wanted to stay home. Why was this not brought up earlier? The point is this, let's be honest up front and make the world a lot easier to date in. Take my situation of parenthood in to account and it gets even worse.
Of course when I'm not looking, then she'll be there. What a bunch of crap that is. How do you take a hopeless romantic and tell him to stop looking? Maybe that's a question that can never be answered, but who the hell knows? Maybe She does...
It's 9:23 and about my bedtime (insert pathetic joke here) but I'm watching the figure skating championships on ESPN 2 (The Ocho! If you saw Dodgeball you'll get the joke) while surfing the web. Q is in bed singing to himself and it's pretty cute in a way, and I can't stop laughing about it, even though I should tell him to get some sleep. I've gone to the kitchen a poured myself a glass of wine and my favorite, Sasha Cohen, is up...a very good performance in my humble uneducated opinion. It's the highest scoring one so far.
I love figure skating, I love the gracefulness of it and watching people do something that I can't do. I hate it when the commentators have to tell me what is wrong with every single performance though. Shut Up! Let me enjoy the talent and the music and I don't care if they missed the skate placement of their triple luggy trachiotomy. I know I couldn't do it, so shut up and let me enjoy it. Talk in between the skater's show, talk while the judges write on their cards, talk during something I don't care about. It's like the time I was in Baltimore staying on my unlce's sailboat, which was docked in the Inner Harbor. There I was watching the sun rise over the downtown buildings, the city was waking up, traffic was starting to move, and it was the perfect summer morning. Those of you that know me know that I love cities. I love high rise glass and concrete. I couldn't have asked for anything better when all of a sudden a trash barge comes rambling along filling the air with some foul smell and horrible noise, I was in Baltimore so only God knows what or who was in that pile making that smell so bad. It shattered the tranquility of the morning. That's what these morons are like to me, shattering the tranquility of Sasha Cohen's performance.
Web Love
While I was on the internet I typed in the wonderful Google box "Dating Sucks" because, well, recently it does for me. I hate being single and as much as I try to convince myself I'm better off alone, I just know I'm not. Sorry C.J., I'm trying and I can't take it. Anyway, I'm going to Pittsburgh next month with a group to go to see my beloved Penguins hockey team. I was all excited about it until someone made a joke, the didn't mean any harm by it, but, it was about me being "El Cinco". What is that? Well it is me because I am going with a group of four, two couples. Two happy relationships and me, Ole Cinco, the spare fith wheel that sits under the mats in your trunk.
As much as I hate being single, I hate the dating game even more; a terrible dilemma, I know. I hate how fake the "dating game" is. Right there, we call it a game. A game is supposed to be fun, this isn't fun. Let's look at a typical first date, no, let's start before that, let's go back to the first impression. Boy sees Girl, Girl sees Boy, in a split second a terabyte of thought goes through each of their minds. Thoughts about attraction, physical features, sub-conscience thoughts about sex, marriage, children; yes it does go that deep with a first impression. We're talking biological stuff now and each of us have instinct to reproduce, even if we never do or we deny those thoughts. So let's say that this person meets your standards, let the games begin. Now you have to get courage to talk to Her, I say her because I'm a Him and because even 50 years post Dwight and Mami Eisenhower, it's still up to the man to make the first move. As I make my approach the first impression is still being made, and I have to not act like an idiot, but not like an ass either. So I strike up a conversation, which is either going to go one of two ways, either complete acceptance or complete rejection. Are we having fun yet? I'm going to give Him the benefit and figure that there is acceptance. Maybe phone numbers are exchanged, here comes some more game day strategy, how long do I wait to call? I don't want to seem like I don't care, but I don't want to seem so desperate. Girls like assholes, so maybe I should act like I don't care, but I really like her. Two days, no wait, make it three, yeah three, good solid odd number, but I really want to talk to her...oh fuck it, it's probably the wrong number anyway. Am I starting to sound like a John Cusack movie yet? So you call, how many days you waited is up to you, and you get the dreaded voice mail (please insert some heavy dramatic music), her message starts telling you how she can't come to the phone right now, yadda, yadda, yadda. Meanwhile your head is racing, what do I say? Your back to the good guy/asshole routine again. Should I leave a message at all? I'll just hang up and...Too late! BEEP! "Duh Duh Uhh this is ____ Just calling you, uhh, I guess your not around (No shit dummy, hence the voice mail) I guess I'll talk to you later or you can call me...Uhhh, bye." Oh the Mighty Case struck out. What an idiot! Guess what Gentle Reader? We haven't even got to the first date yet and we're assuming that He even had the courage to talk to Her in the first place and not go back to his hole and say how hot she was. Welcome to my world!
Granted that was an elaboration, but not to far from the truth. Some of the articles I read are telling me all these dating "rules" that contradict eachother and tell me to put on this fake persona. I'm pretty personable, but also shy. That's who I am. This rules tell me to change who I am to get a girl. Why, so she can find out later that she doesn't like the real me? I have a friend who when he and his wife where dating used to go out a lot. He likes going out, she doesn't, but she covered up this fact to make him happy. They got married and she wanted to stay home. Why was this not brought up earlier? The point is this, let's be honest up front and make the world a lot easier to date in. Take my situation of parenthood in to account and it gets even worse.
Of course when I'm not looking, then she'll be there. What a bunch of crap that is. How do you take a hopeless romantic and tell him to stop looking? Maybe that's a question that can never be answered, but who the hell knows? Maybe She does...
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Quiet Observations
I'm sitting at work drinking my coffee and pondering life's meaning. OK I'm not pondering it's meaning, but I'm in a quiet mood today and for those that know me pretty well know I'm not always quiet. However because of my quiet mood I'm being bombarded by questions as to the state of my well being. "Are you O.K.?" "Is everything alright?" "You don't seem like your normal self, anything you want to talk about?" While I appreciate the concern it really isn't needed. Can't I just be quiet and thoughtful for a day instead of loud and proud? If I come across someone who doesn't show signs of wanting conversation for what ever reason I tend to just tell them I'll talk to them later and leave it at that. Every time I'm quiet I get the inquisition. I don't really have a reason for my quietness, I've got stuff on my mind, but nothing that I would lose any sleep over and certainly nothing that I would share with people I see at work.
Which makes me think of something else. We spend more time with co-workers than we do our own families, yet they are some of the people we know the least about. How odd is that? One would think I'd know more about these folks because my desk is right across from theirs and we damn near stare at each other all day, but I couldn't tell you very much about them, not much more than what the pictures on their desks give away. If you where to look at my pictures and try to figure out what I was all about you'd probably guess I'm a parent because I've got pictures of the boys. You'd figure I'm a race fan, because I've got a picture of Stewart that I got out of a race magazine. I've got a Snoopy comic strip, some funny quotes and pictures, three fortune cookie papers, and a group picture of my command. All together that doesn't even really start to tell you who I am, strange how that works. Maybe I should find out one new fact a day on my co-workers, but then I may find out something I don't want to know. Maybe I'll leave things the way they are.
Which makes me think of something else. We spend more time with co-workers than we do our own families, yet they are some of the people we know the least about. How odd is that? One would think I'd know more about these folks because my desk is right across from theirs and we damn near stare at each other all day, but I couldn't tell you very much about them, not much more than what the pictures on their desks give away. If you where to look at my pictures and try to figure out what I was all about you'd probably guess I'm a parent because I've got pictures of the boys. You'd figure I'm a race fan, because I've got a picture of Stewart that I got out of a race magazine. I've got a Snoopy comic strip, some funny quotes and pictures, three fortune cookie papers, and a group picture of my command. All together that doesn't even really start to tell you who I am, strange how that works. Maybe I should find out one new fact a day on my co-workers, but then I may find out something I don't want to know. Maybe I'll leave things the way they are.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
