Cradled.
Rolling in the black
Edge of a weeping.
Tired, burning way
Floating on the endless tide–
Hope, wait.
Streaming agony on and on–
Fading rapidly
Cold pervades fingertips.
At the fairer shore,
Clasped hands endure.
The restless tears spent,
On sorrow, more
I’m actually watching all the previous seasons of Hard Knocks because I’m so fucking sick of dead-time already. Wasn’t the super-bowl like, last week or something? And here I am, impatient as always. Struggling. It’s going to be A LONG TIME before I am appeased. The NFL off season is a “dark time.” Much like a dramatic and prolonged winter. There is really no other sport, in my opinion, worth paying attention to in the interim. Basketball is organized thuggery and hardly a sport. Baseball is dreadfully boring, too long, and fundamentally uninteresting. The fantasy equivalents of said sports are just… retarded. In my world, the National Football League is the un-ursurpable king.
I no other forum do the complexities of individual interactions mean so much to the game. A single match-up can ruin a drive, or break the game wide open. There is no surrender in football. There is always a chance. It’s chaos theory at it’s embodied pinnacle. Who is stepping up? Who is getting beat? Who extended themselves beyond what we understand as the “limit?”
~115 days is a long time to wait for the beginning of training camp. But it is what it is. And I will be thinking little football thoughts as the time passes.
This year, I fully intend to manage my own league. I have been toiling over the specifics of how to balance scoring. I think I have finally done it. I’ve created a system which is balanced enough to allow for ONLY the individual talent choices to be the deciding factor in whether you win or lose in the league. It’s never going to be about exploiting a scoring system, as has been the case in EVERY SINGLE LEAGUE I have ever been a part of. There was always a way to exploit the scoring, even if it took some brain-power to figure out.
I have done the math. I have worked the variables down to a fine-science. I know how to balance scoring, so no position offers an advantage over the others. It’s going to come down to how the managers assess talent, draft and make waiver moves. That’s it. Smart players will win. Period.
This is the way it should be.
I have not FULLY decided on my teams yet. There will probably be 2 of them, one in my family league, one in my league. 3 teams is too much for me to keep track of. I hate the manager who runs 8 teams, and when I ask him “what’s your record?” He answers, “Well, I’m 10-2 in one league, and 8-4 in another.” Thus, the cream of the crop are presented as the definitive data set, when the rest of those teams are 2-10, 3-9 and so on…
As Dieon would say: “Good luck wit’ dat.”
Give me a break, manager with 8+ teams. You hide your flaws poorly. And your stupidity glares with glowing eyes at me. I see your little mind, despite your attempts to obfuscate.
I’ve finished in 2nd place 2 years in a row, and was RUNNING OFF with the lead in my Uncle’s league, until he selfishly, insanely, dissolved said league under the maniacal iron fist of his challenged tyranny. Shame on you, Uncle Phil. You’re an idiot.
I would never do what he did. Never. It’s not the job of the Commissioner to be noticed. He is a PLAYER AS WELL, not the “ruler of the league.” Go ahead and think of yourself as the “Pete Rosell” of your league. Yeah, right… you’re not the president of decision making. And that should never be changed. Arrogance and pompousness aside. We are in this together. No one stands above the rest.
I wonder if I will win my first championship this year. I may, as I’m only improving as the years pass. I think I can, I believe I can, and eventually, I will. Patience…
I’m a deadly opponent. A fast-waiver-mover. A repetitive thinker. A discerning foe. I await the challenge of the 2013 season. But I have some time to be idle. Waiting. Thinking. Calculating the demise of my enemies.
“In time, you will learn to call me… master.”
I wonder, do we know why we are here? Is there a purpose to our microscopic, fleeting lives? I believe there is. Humans, generally, seem to mire themselves in things only relevant to the brief window of existence we occupy; neglecting the wider-frame by which reality is observed.
I don’t intend to cast sweeping stereotypes. I just have a feeling, with the obsessions we share in gawking at misfortune, violence, and what new ludicrous complication has been added to our socioeconomical hierarchy of comprehension, that we are entombed in a short-term view of things. The magnificence of our arrival in sentience is totally forgotten. Our inspirational expansion and fascinating exploration of technology/science is shoved to the side, in lieu of the ever-increasing desire for exploitation, gain, and domination. Why is this world so bent on eating itself alive?
I long to have been alive during a time where we grew into an understanding of the value of living. The tremendous and unique nature of our fragile existence is taken for granted. We teeter on the edge of being, waiting for inevitable calamity, which encompasses the primary means of change on our planet. We have a window, briefly, into awareness. We squander that noble right daily. We thrive on mistreatment of life. We capitalize on pain, suffering, unfairness, and a deeply corrupted sense of morality.
Things may not change in my lifetime. Though, the longevity of my temporary occupation is largely unknown; probability states that my life may reach a natural conclusion of some form. Catastrophe or rapid-disintegration is far more unlikely. But I have the tingle of fear in my bones, the subtle disturbance of knowing. I almost yearn for a shock to the system, with hopes of dramatically opening our eyes to a new set of priorities. An awakening.
If we are bound to rotation and circumnavigation; constantly plowing through an uncertain dark, we should be aware of our rarity. We should be thinking: “who are we? And why are we so fortunate to be alive? Who else is out there? Can they hear us?”
I am given the gift of awareness, in a time where that quality is not understood, or particularly cared for. We have an animalistic existence, dictated by a hunger for the flesh of others. In time, we may come into a different understanding. But the history of Earth paints a different view of our time here. We have no more of it to squander. We are running out of chances. We have to survive. But we won’t.
Shadow between stars
Adrift in a long darkness
None hear us shouting
I have been experiencing some instability lately. Things at work are hard… been grinding myself pretty hard… perhaps taking things too seriously for my own good. I wonder about my future. I wonder about the integrity of my situation. Do I have what it takes to be successful… I guess I worry. Maybe it’s for my protection that I am constantly concerned; I’ve been down the path of failure before.
On the bright side: literally, another meteor lit up the sky over the east coast, specifically Massachusetts and Delaware… FUCK. This is a troubling sign. IN MY OPINION, life is a fragile balance, then we get something that causes the balance to change. I don’t like the thought of my proximity to the Pacific Ocean. It’s a BIG FUCKING TARGET. And we would probably never even see it impact, as the space is just so fucking vast. We WOULD notice a 3 mile high tsunami though. I would have almost no place to run to. I have a plan to just get on the 8 and drive east… but fuck… how do you outrun the end of the world?
We are balanced somewhere in a twilight of existence. Teetering on the terminator between night and day.
I worry, because we have reason to worry.
There are things happening out there that are FAR beyond our control. And we have to do the best we can, when the time comes, to survive.
***UPDATE***
The Earth’s surface is 71.11% liquid water. On it’s own, the Pacific Ocean is 35% of that water. Jesus fucking guacamole christ… I’m not making this shit up. We have a real problem here people. The sooner you realize that, the better chance you have of surviving, though, I give myself about a 1 in 100 chance (being adequately warned) for making it out of San Diego alive if a large meteor were to strike somewhere in the Pacific. Maybe 1 in 1000, depending on it’s overall size. Anything bigger than a house in overall size, and we would surely die.
On a scale of 1 to 10 (1 = serious problem, 10 = not a problem), rate the following:
Emotional Health: 7
Physical Depression Symptoms: 9
Physical Anxiety Symptoms: 5
Racing Thoughts: 10
Depressed Thoughts: 8
Self-Esteem: 10
Concentration: 9
Enthusiasm: 10
Charisma: 10
Motivation: 10
Paranoia / Fear / Anxiety: 9
Outlook / Hope: 10
OVERALL: 8/10
Our trip, in its entirety, spanned 484 miles, and took 2.25 days to complete. We traveled north, along the 15, breaking off on the 215 for a short distance; reuniting with the 15 again through the Cajon Pass and across the San Andreas Fault. We were then riding smoothly across the North American Tectonic Plate, after leaving the somewhat mobile Pacific Tectonic Plate in our wake. We crossed in to the high desert, the Mojave: a scene mostly unchanged for several million years. The old remnants of volcanic activity dotted the land, and ancient lava-flows were piled up on all sides by the encroaching sand. It was a truly unforgettable environment. 
We were hardcore, and drove up there AND made the first site (B on the Google map) in one go. We were dressed for desert-combat, and fully prepared to brave the harshness of both wind and sand. But we had a good day instead, with hardly a trace of wind, and NOT A SINGLE RATTLESNAKE! For the entire trip! Amazing…
Site one was hard to get to. It was a geologic zone I identified early on as having a high-potential for gemstone output. The quality of jasper would be lower, but there would be blue chalcedony to be had there, and other varieties of quartz-family stones.
Once we got into the zone, we elevated our search past some old silver mines, and headed up the hill, to where a distinct transition of color in the soil was taking place. The farther up the hills we went, the more the chalcedony came bubbling out of the ground. It was truly, truly amazing.
In the shadow of an ancient volcano to the north, we absolutely killed it. We had well over 15 pounds of rock from the day 1 excursion. And a high percentage of that take is of amazing quality.
On day 2, we traveled farther north on the 15, headed for a site better known for it’s jasper as opposed to chalcedony and agate. But it was here where we landed the “big fish” of the trip. Common opal was here, though uncommon, we found some breathtaking pieces. The geologic history of this area is much the same as site 1. The intrusion of a volcano into exsisting sedimentary rock created beautiful colorful canyons and hillsides, loaded with gemstones.
The canyon walls along the Mojave river were spectacular. We headed into the hills, and absolutely rocked it. Pun intended.
Though I had low-expectations for this site, we pulled our best common opals and fire agates here. Unquestionably, the finest gemstone take I have EVER SEEN. Period.
If you were looking through my previous post, The Opal Trip, it would be obvious that the sites we visited are different from the ones I had planned on visiting originally. The truth of the matter is, I failed to do the proper research on vehicular access. The first two sites were intended to be accessed via 4×4 vehicles only. I then re-shaped the plan, and found two different spots that the truck would actually be able to make it to. And although the roads were rugged and lumpy, we got to the right areas, and kicked some serious ass. In a geologic sense.
Overall, the trip was epic, awe-inspiring and fantastically profitable. We have more pure, gemstone-quality minerals in our collection now than I have ever had or seen, anywhere, ever.
I’m very happy with our trip, and boy am I glad to be back on my own mattress again. Motel mattress in Barstow = the suck.
Guided by mystery and frail shaking
A softness in stirring hands
A downward, glancing kiss of flowers
Going pinks and purples
Don’t let go of happiness
The grace of citrus splashes
All piled in rays of sunlight
Echoing the heat of daytime–
Melted pools of love
I dream of magic
Growing into harmonies
Fragile traces of sand
Crusting on the skin of travelers
Wandering unlost
Across the trails that lead to me
I’m in the shop for 12 hours today. That seems like a lot, because it is.
I guess it’s because they trust me to run the show, and do a good job. They’re right. I’m damn good at this job, and worthy of the level of responsibility I have been given. I hope…
Of course I have doubts. I’m still cautious… not all ambitious kicking the shit out of the world or anything.
I’m not that guy either.
I try. I try my best, even. I think I’m doing pretty good for a mentally ill person. I have not given up on my life. I continue to yearn for newness, change, progress. I don’t think I could settle for some quitting, half-assed way of doing things. It’s my self-worth and pride that are at stake.
I also have this thing; it’s an overriding sense of morality. I really do believe in doing right. I mean, really right. Not just “what’s right for me,” but universally, what would be accepted as the “right” thing to do. Not exploiting people. Not deceiving people. Not taking advantage to gain something over someone. Not being violent. Not committing blatant crimes.
I don’t know. Is that fucking lame of me?
I don’t see any reason to live another way. I am bound by a willingness to help people, and be good inside. Because I’m proud of my ability to do that. I can look at myself and say: “hey, you’re trying, and you’re doing good things. That’s all you can really do.”
So, I’m grinding away in the shop. Working, when I have the ability to do so. It’s kinda dead in here today. No computers to repair off the bench. Just remotes, so far.
I hope you all out there have a good day. I wish nothing but the best for you, and whatever it is you do that makes you happy.
Strive!
I can’t really comprehend my sister most of the time. Even the allegedly sacred domain of family is often a place easily trampled… despite my personal beliefs. I guess it’s easier to abuse family, since you somehow know they’re in it “for the long-haul.” Stuck with you… regardless. It’s easy to take them for granted, excommunicate them, or otherwise torture them with words, whether they deserve it or not.
My sister must have some extenuating circumstances that I am (blissfully) unaware of that cause her such resentment of me… or so I hope (as this makes more sense than outright hatred of me). Frankly, at this point, I just don’t want to “play” anymore. I’m not in this to create meaningless drama, or subsequently respond to abuse with anger. I just don’t care. I have a lot of other, meaningful things to be concerned about. So, I go forward, not backward.
I have such a great life right now: my WIFE and I are happy, stable, and getting better every day. I don’t have the time or inclination to entertain the ignorance of one perturbed family member.
She has continued to spew vile and noxious words in my “general direction…” and I’m tuning them out at this point. Since even the public forum by which I share my thoughts here is scrutinized for gossip, I chose not to play, or evoke any more tantrums; though this transmission my incite more flailing of limbs, gnashing of teeth and subsequent tearing of clothes. Possibly shoe-throwing as well…
Maybe she thinks my past behavior is a result of intentional action, and not the byproduct of the beginnings of my disability? Maybe she could care less that I am disabled, and struggle DAILY to be a high-functioning person? Maybe she just doesn’t get it, or care to, because it’s too foreign a thought to her? I’m tired of speculating. I wish for understanding, not prejudice. I get judgement and am chastised unfairly. Am I really such an asshole?
I have nightmares about this situation. My sleep has been affected the last several nights. I tried to “hurry” my life along recently, by applying for a loan to get a car… but many around me have noticed this, and pulled the reigns back on me. And with reason: I was taking on more than I would have been able to support, based on a feeling of pressure from my sister’s high-standards of life-scrutiny. Like I still wasn’t good enough to get respect, or anything at all that could be looked at as positive. I have to be fully independent and well-established, and perhaps meeting some “yet to be decided” criteria invented to make me struggle harder. Meh.
It’s not like I have not tried. I admit, we are VASTLY different people. And under normal circumstances, I would not befriend a person similar to her. She has nothing in common with me. She shares noting with me, and resents me for a disturbing childhood full of fights, angry words, and regret. I can’t fix that. I have moved on, hoping for something new to grow. Frankly, I just don’t care anymore. It’s worth little to me to invest in a dead-end relationship. She has made that abundantly clear of late.
I guess, in that sense, she’s right. I really have not given it the effort it probably deserves. I should have tried harder to be a better brother. But I can’t change the past, and I’m doing my best to make a better future.
In the end, I’m still without a sister, and dealing with a nonsensical drama created by her, which has more collateral damage for my parents to deal with. As usual, her bad behavior has her locked in her room, screaming and crying through the seams of the shut and locked door, demanding attention, expressing contempt and outrage, and for what? Who cares…
Beautiful, inspiring art has a place here. Especially when you consider we both struggle with mental illness, and have each found a way to express ourselves through words, wire-wrapping and gemsone collecting. We are a great pair, and I hope you can show my Birdy some love as she strives to create, despite disability. We will struggle, but inevitably, endure.
What’s in a name? Descriptors? Supplies? How do you name a piece, if even you do? I name every piece because in my mind every piece has a story of it’s making, of where the pieces came from, and what inspired me to make it. To me the story needs a title, otherwise it may get lost in the never ending cycle of stories. I love my work and the stories, however dull they may be to the outside, my pieces remind me of.
SOLD
Around the bend
The tatters mend
A wistful want
Pulled to its knot
Ringed fingers
Dancing chance
A feeling lingers
In this romance
I’ll bind my time
To yours endure
Two rings entwine
A love that’s pure
So be my bride
And I’ll be your man
And with me stride
Into futures plan
What will be unknown
But brave we try
To know what we own
And sometimes cry
Be strong with me
Into life we’ll go
And through it see
Our love will grow
So, we’re officially headed out to the desert May 19-20. We’re staying a night in Barstow (exciting, I know…), but rockhounding 2 distinct sites, looking for rare minerals. The first stop, I’ve both researched and confirmed in the Califirina guide. The official geologic map for the state points to a paleolithic sedimentary deposit turned metamorphic when the area was intruded upon by subductive volcanism. Igneous intrusions abound, and the desert wind and air has taken it’s toll on the site, as you can see in the low-profile of the mountains. Area in question is to the north west of Barstow, in the light blue cluster bordering the tertiary volcanic activity.
Transposing the two images reveals the terrain change is the area in question, and the run-off and erosion points on the hills are areas to target. Places in the “bake-zone” where, at one time, molten rock came into contact with sedimentary rock. At site 1, we are looking for opals primarily, with a chance at agates or jasper. There is a good chance of picking up crystal here too, in the garnet family.
At site 2, we have to go a tad down the 40 freeway. But not too far. The site will be rich in geodes, and banded agates of various forms. There is a greater percent chance of finding crystal gemstones here as well. The site is visible as steep hills, eroded by desert wind. Area in question is the mixing point of both tertiary and quadentary volcanic areas, where they entered more pre-exsisting sedimentary rock deposits; to the south of Newberry Springs.
Really mixed bag at site 2, so I’m not sure what to expect. The geologic zone indicates more “bake-zone” mineralogy, but the nature of the original geologic unit makes a difference in what minerals appear at the site. For now, I’m cautiously optimistic about what the site holds, but only hitting the ground will give us the solid indicator.
A closer look at target areas for site one makes it clear that I intend to hit the ridges, looking for PRISTINE samples uncovered by rain. Hopefully, there’s a revelation or two to be had out there. I have a feeling the site isn’t done coughing up treasures just yet…
Site two is DEFINITELY MORE CHALLENGING as far as climbing goes. We may NEED to stick to valleys and less ridges. However, we’re looking for minerals in formations more prone to being round, so they may have a chance to have rolled down the hill a ways during the years.
I’m, again, going to attack this site from the perspective of a novice, and assume our better condensations will be in run-off points, rather than trying for a pristine sample at the top of a hill, JUST uncovered.
As you can see, I’ve given our strategy some thought. I want to maximize our efficiency, as collecting precious stones is a big part of our success. I will, of course, have a post on this, but for now, it’s a future engagement, liable to produce some AMAZING finds. Like nothing we could collect locally.
Finally, I’ll have pictures up soon of the most recent batch, the one that finished polishing today. 2 tumbling barrels full of beautiful quartz and feldspar. Great finds a-plenty, from more ancient volcanism. Anyway, go rockhounding sometime.
You might be surprised what you find:
Neurochemically Challenged 
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