Nah, I'm Not Scared

This Halloween has pretty much come and gone now, mostly because I had to shut off the light after running out of candy. I always make a point of trying to count how many trick-or-treaters show up, but usually lose count somewhere between twenty and fifty.

This year started off slowly. By eight o'clock, scarcely ten kids had shown up, and I think there were that many bags of candy that hadn't been opened yet. Then, it got better, and swarms of ten started hitting the door, one after the other.

I don't think many of these groups, who were mostly families, are local, but I don't see the difference. Most of them were dressed (the little girls mostly being rincesses or angels, the boys spidermen), but there were a few swarms of cowboys.

Later on, of course, there were teenage goths in fishnet stockings, and a couple of them, after getting candy, asked for bags. Their old ones, it seems, were full. One got the plastic bag the new phone book was delivered in, and I gave a paper Trader Joe's bag to the other so she'd know I was cool and all that.

One little girl came with her sister, or maybe her mother, who was wearing a heavy letterman's jacket over a push-up leather bra. Nice. Very Halloweeny. When the last kid, who was dressed as a pirate (sort of), wished me Happy Christmas, I decided the holiday was officially over and turned off the porch light. Then, I released Minardi from his confinement in my room.

Then I settled down with the last half-dozen or so Snickers bars and guessed at 150 - 200 kids.

Not my favorite, but one kid had a T-shirt with Arnold Schwarzenegger on it. I'm not sure if it was a Terminator shirt or a Governator, but it made me laugh.

Unimaginable Evil

For someone who owns six or seven dictionaries, you'd think I'd know more, but you'd be wrong. There are a lot of words I don't understand, really common ones, too, and I'm not proud of that at all.

The word evil is one of those, and I run across that one all the time.

If I try to figure out what it means by considering how it's used, I can only conclude that evil means "to stop debate." Whenever something is called evil, the point is to stop thinking about whoever's called that and to just go along with the person saying that. No further thought or consideration is necessary. The case is closed, and there's nothing to agree about except how right the person using the word must be.

I have a couple problems with evil, not the least of which is that the word carries some amount of religious baggage. The other thing is that I can't imagine a truly evil person. I can imagine evil actions, or, maybe even evil incidents, but not someone who is evil personified, and that's how I'm supposed to think, according to the person making the claim.

Hitler, of course, is often used as an example of evil, and there's no denying that he was responsible for some pretty horrific policies and actions. But even so, I'm not comfortable with calling him evil. He had evil plans, he did evil things, but is that all that's meant when people equate him with evil? I don't know.

I can easily imagine someone robbing and killing somebody and being called evil, but if that's done because of hunger or love for someone else or to save his children, well, I can despise the act but still consider the killer not to be evil. Yep, he's doing something wrong, no doubt about it, and probably had other ways of defending someone's honor or putting food on the table, so I agree with calling him out on his actions. But I'm just not comfortable calling the guy evil.

That word, to me, means something very special. I'm just not sure what that special thing is.

Gratitude

I've been thinking a bit about mortality lately, and there's a few things I won't miss when my time comes. I'm not expecting any afterlife, so if I get stuck in one I imagine that's the first thing I'll regret.

The anniversary of the Tylenol scare just passed, and there were a few news accounts making mention of it. Man, that dude changed the world, and not in any way I like. Thanks to him, and I'm not even sure anyone died from that poisoning thing, damn near every product I buy now has more safety seals than the space shuttle. Hard plastic wraps around the cap that need to be cut with a knife to remove, then some sort of vacuum safety seal on the inside that, as often as not, doesn't peel off properly.

Even things *I* know would be a dumb choice for some random, terrorizing, mass poisoning stunt, like dishwashing soap or shampoo (which may actually be the same thing) sometimes are sealed for my safety. I mean, really, if something's in my shampoo that  burns or dyes my hair, well, I'm probably using it in a place where I can quickly wash it out.

Anyway, all this product safety stuff bugs me. Not that I've got anything against safety, mind you, but theses gimmicks have far less to do with safety than they do with ass-covering for litigation purposes.
Because of one sick whacko, the whole world changed.

Another thing I'll be really happy to get away from is the unavailability of rare hamburgers. They were excellent. I'm sure cooking the hell and taste out of meat is a good thing, but I'm not one of its fans. I know, I know: listen to the vegetarians. They'll set me straight.

I also won't particularly mind getting away with partisans pretending that every thing that happens is some life-shattering evidence of duplicity or worse by the opposition, either. I know, I know: Everything has to be dramatic, and if Bill O or Keith don't act all worked up, there won't be any viewers. Still, I'll be glad to be rid of it.

The world's changing, and most of that change is good. Not all of it, though, are changes I like.

Memories Are Made of Fs

I'm sure I've mentioned before this great thing I heard or read somewhere about memory and how someone said something about how some things are remembered because of utilitarian reasons, some for no reason at all, and others, maybe, because we make a conscious effort to remember them.

I'm not sure, exactly, because the quote and whoever said it must have fallen into the second of the three because I sure didn't make any effort about remembering it for future citation. Still, it's true, and things in the second class are the best, anyway.

I can't help it. I'm intrigued by how inconsequential shit sticks in my mind for years and years.

I'm not sure if I remember it because I heard it so often growing up, or if it was just one of those things my mom said once, but quite often at three in the morning I remember my mom scolding me about "wishing my life away." I don't remember the exact wish of mine that incited that remark, but it may have been the typical "I wish I was grown up" thinking I believe lots of kids do. The only time I can honestly remember wishing time would pass quickly was once on July 4th when I was bored setting fire to snakes and staining the sidewalk and wanted to see some real fireworks.

I think of it often at three in the morning, though, when I wish it was five so I could get out of bed at a more reasonable time. Not that five is a such a good time to wake up, but it beats three, hands down. Three is just plain weird.

All of which has nothing whatsoever to do with any of the Fs referred to in the title. I was going to dazzle everyone with my knowledge of anatomy and talk about frenums (knowing full well that the plural of frenum is actually frena) and, then, show my insight by talking about how knowledge is frequently confused with simple memorization of terms.

I still think that, mostly because whenever any expert is consulted, they far often are only conversant with the specific and accurate names for things, which we all take for conclusive evidence of their wisdom. In fact, I think use of jargon or technical terms is pretentious, and mostly used to disguise or obscure insecurities, but I think that about lots of things.

In any case, the point is, using and insisting on technical terms, to me, is the exact opposite of knowledge. It's an old saw, but it's true, that being able to teach is the best indicator of knowledge. If you can't make a lay person understand what you're talking about, you don't know it very well. Hammering people with technical terms only makes you look like an ass, and not a very knowledgeable one at that.

Then, California wildfire season sprung on us, and everyone in the LA area who watched TV was treated to newscasters rambling on and reminding us all of two things:


  1. Most newscasters, when not given copy to read, are indistinguishable from any other great looking person

  2. Extra points are given any newscaster who mentions Foscheck


It can't be easy to fill several hours of broadcast time when there's, honestly, very little to say. Many of these news anchors, and I suspect they do it just to piss me off, spend an inordinate amount of time treating the reporters in the field as if they were absolute idiots by warning them repeatedly to "stay safe" and checking that they're wearing their goggles and masks.

Now I'll grant you that the reporters in the field have no more to say about wildfires than they do hurricane winds and rain, but I guess it's their lot in life to stand about outside when any sane person would be inside and offer inane comments about the most glaringly obvious of observations. Maybe they're all hoping to get a job with Fox News, I dunno.

In any case, I got my two Fs in, and even talked a bit about memory.

Roll, Me On, A

I'm not sure how far this can be extended, but I may try to push this three thing into another area of everyday life: eating.

And, by eating, I mean mine. As in, dinner. And by pushing, I mean "let's see what happens when I divide the food I eat into the same three categories."

I'm not sure I've ever actually said it, but according to early TV sitcoms a very common question is "What's for dinner?" Borrowing from before, we can divide dinner into three categories (again, in handy bulleted format):


  • What I will eat for dinner

  • What I should eat for dinner

  • What I want to eat for dinner


I'm not what you'd call a good grocery shopper even though I do it a lot. I shop not only when I should be doing something else, but often when I don't need to do it at all. I think part of that is because I know how to successfully maneuver my way around stores filled with food. It's far less intimidating for me to buy something I know about, so perhaps it's just as a way of getting a feeling of accomplishment that I'll head to the grocery store and pick up some pineapple tamales or a bag of frozen corn.

I know, down deep inside, that I can do that task pretty much without failure.

The problem stems from the fact that I never can buy just the one thing I need. I invariably wander the aisles, picking up things that I can envision myself preparing or eating, and then forgetting all about most of them once I get them home and safely into a cupboard or the refrigerator.

Which brings me to one of the main determinates in answering ""What's for dinner?"

As often as I can remember, I base my dinner on what I expect to be on the verge of spoiling. I don't like to waste food on principle and can't really afford to do so, so as often as not what I have for dinner is what I don't think can wait another day. One of the problems with this scheme is that what's about to turn inedible is often something stupid, like a tomato. While I've got entrees waiting to be enjoyed, I end up whipping up something just to use a tomato or two.

In any case, "what I should eat" ends up being populated not so much with what would be a good thing to eat as what I can't put off eating any longer. I know most people would consider the answer to "what should I eat" to be some intellectual exercise involving amino acids, the nearness of the farm, and maybe even political ideologies, but I guess I'm not that evolved.

What I want to eat is, at the moment, pie. What I had for dinner was leftover Dinah's chicken (the Little Miss Sunshine meal of choice) that my sister bought, thinking she could stomach it, and some frozen vegetables. I'm sure I failed the amino acid test, didn't score many points on the "eat local" front, and failed, miserably, to pass anyone's political litmus test.

But I'm full. And I don't have to throw out any chicken.

Things That Come in Threes

Life was easier, more a matter of black and white, back when I divided the world in two. That whole duality thing has quite a bit to recommend it, but it doesn't help me much at all.

But maybe it would, if I used it.

Instead of that, though, I'm currently all about splitting my activities into three. An effect of this, of course, is that it makes me more miserable, but that may explain its attraction. In any case, here goes: how I divide my actions into three and with what results and the nature of each.

When it comes to actions, those things most normal people do instead of just thinking about things, the most obvious and first is the smallest of the three: What I'm doing at any particular moment.

At any one time, rest assured, I am performing precisely one thing.  There may be other things moving to some sort of completion in the background, but those were probably set in motion by me earlier and are either waiting for me to get back to them or humming along nicely without my interference or helpful assistance.

So, there's the thing I'm doing now, and that actually is what causes most of my problems because the remaining two categories are things I *should* be doing and things I *want* to do.

So here's the entire list, in handy bullet format:


  • What I'm doing

  • What I should be doing

  • What I want to be doing


The number of things I should be doing is, frankly, pretty large, and it depresses me to even think about them. Worse, since I can attempt them and suffer the pain of failure, things in this category don't get acted on as often as you might think. Yep, the chance of success is probably even greater than the likelihood of failure and would not only lead to an accomplishment and getting something off the list, but would make me feel better. You would think that would be enough motivation for me, but you'd be wrong.

Anyway, whenever I'm doing something, I can't stop thinking about what I should be doing instead of what I'm currently involved with. If I'm doing something I want to do, I can't take as much joy in that as I should, because I'm always thinking about what else I could be doing.

I have no idea what any of this means, but in the meantime there's something I should be doing instead of writing this entry...