Self loves Rotten Tomatoes.  Browsing that site and Chowhound are two of her most reliable stress-relievers. She could lose herself in them for hours.  Hours.  (And she’s been turning to them more and more in this holiday season — Ha ha ha!)

The latest director to participate in Rotten Tomatoes’ “Five Favorite Movies” of all time feature is Jason Reitman. Self thinks his choices are way more interesting than the previous guy they asked, Roland Emmerich.

Here’s his list of favorite movies:

• “Election” (with Reese Witherspoon: self is sorry to say she was not an early fan of Reese, so she missed all of her early movies, and this was one of them. But she’ll order from Netflix!)
• “Dr. Strangelove” (YEEES, YEEES, YEEESSS!!!)
• “Harold and Maude” (It’s really strange but, just after the “Star Trek” re-boot came out, and Zach Quinto was giving interviews right and left, some reporter asked him on a meet-and-greet line to name his favorite movie, and he actually said “Harold and Maude”!)
• “Alien”/ “Aliens” (Self heartily agrees with “Alien.” As for “Aliens,” alas — there simply is no comparison)
• “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” (OK, this one was really funny. It wouldn’t make self’s Five Favorites list, but still … )

This weekend, she doesn’t know whether she’ll see “Brothers” (except she can’t stand listenting to Natalie Portman; if self could just look at her face and not hear her voice, everything would be just fine); the new Robert de Niro movie (“Everybody’s Fine,” and especially Sam Rockwell);  “Ninja Assassin” (Self adores, simply adores ninja action movies!) or “New Moon.”

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

Fear and hesitation go hand in hand. The trick is to separate the two, to recognize that you needn’t wait until you are free of fear in order to act. Indeed, if that were the case, most of the people whom we consider brave would still be waiting for the moment of bold action that earned them the appellation “hero.”

Years ago I heard a panel discussion on the subject of Wagner’s opera cycle The Ring of the Nibelung that actually touched on the issue of courage and decisive action. The experts focused on the character Siegfried, who is described as someone who has never known an instant of fear in his life. Should we therefore consider Siegfried’s fearless behavior to be indicative of heroism and bravery? The panel in question concluded it did not. After all, they reasoned, how can one be a hero without fear to overcome? Only a fool would rush to action without being aware of the attendant dangers. But a brave and courageous man would know the perils facing him and choose to act in any case.

Most of us won’t face dragons or fire, of course, but we still will all have numerous chances to act decisively or to hold back. Here is a trivial, but instructive example from my own life. In college, I was fulfilling a PE requirement by taking fencing. Now, I wasn’t a very good fencer, despite being a reasonably good athlete. And, my heavy academic course load didn’t permit me the luxury of spending time outside of class to practice fencing. Thus, in the first seven matches I had against my classmates, I won only three, a pretty mediocre showing.

Nonetheless, I was competitive enough to want to win more often, so I reasoned that there just might be a way that wouldn’t take time away from my other studies. I realized that I was a relatively tentative fencer, and so I decided to become more aggressive. I set myself the task of getting in the first “touch” as soon as each new match began. The strategy worked. Of the next 17 matches, I won 14. I was almost always able to get a 1 to 0 lead within a few seconds of the start of the competition by catching my adversaries off-guard. Yet, despite my new found success, I was really no better at fencing than I’d been when my record was three wins and four losses. I was simply less hesitant, more aggressive.

I once had a biology professor named Hudson who conducted the “Quiz” portion of his classes in a way to encourage behavior similar to my fencing experience. You were graded on the number of questions you answered correctly and lost points if you answered the interrogatories wrong. Hudson asked the questions aloud and it was a race to get your hand up first and have him call on you to answer. Naturally, you had to make a quick decision as to whether you had the right answer. Very fast indeed. Those who hesitated were, as the saying goes, “lost.”

But how does this all apply to daily life, the life outside of the university. You might say that “normal” life is less competitive than my examples suggest, but is it? To answer that question, ask yourself how often you hesitate to do things, take chances, give public voice to concerns that might engender disapproval, avoid tasks that are difficult or challenging? Do you ask out the beautiful woman, or do you wait until you feel “ready,” only to watch someone else beat your time in getting her attention? Do you, at least sometimes, see a crisis as an opportunity? Or do you hold back, put things off, wait and hope that another or better time for action will come? Sometimes it will, but sometimes it won’t.

If your “default” strategy, your habitual tendency, is to wait, you have a similar problem to those whose standard operating procedure is to act impulsively, without thinking. It may be the case that “fools rush in where angels fear to tread,” but it is also true that you are an equal fool if you forever hold back, hesitate, and watch the moment pass or see someone else “seize the day (carpe diem).”

What I am talking about is fear and the uncertainty that fuels it. When we are fearful and decide not to take action, most of us feel an immediate sense of relief. That relief reinforces our hesitation, while simultaneously depriving us of the opportunity to succeed in the endeavor. Soon enough, the relief will pass, but not the self-doubt and lack of personal esteem and confidence that might have been won by an effective action.

The danger in allowing too many chances to pass by is a life of “quiet desperation,” a life on the sidelines, watching others play the game, but not playing it ourselves. And, at the end of life, regret for the opportunities passed and the chances not taken is more likely to be troubling than the failed efforts made. Beware the heartache of the words “what if?” True, acting boldly often fails; but, it also sometimes succeeds.

No wonder, then, that musicians spend relatively little time passively listening to music. They are too busy making it.

Make music of your life, then. Let the trumpet announce (or remind) the world of your presence. Sing your song. And if you cannot, find a therapist who will give you the tools to beat back your fear and help encourage you.

That’s me!

It would be easy to say “it’s the holiday blues”, but that’s not really it. I think it’s just coincidental that a lot of good and a lot of not-so-good things happened to me around the holidays.

I’m not blue … more like light blue.

I read a post on another blog today, and my god I’d love to plagiarize her right now, lol.  (I’m not gonna!  )

She was talking about that one person that you never get over … and the way she wrote it, the way she expressed it to her mother and her mother’s response was so spot on, I can’t say it any better. So while I promise I won’t plagiarize, I will summarize:

Some people/things aren’t meant to be gotten over … that’s pretty much what she said. Oh, and that we just learn to deal with the hurt.

And it’s true.

That’s all I have to say about that <for now>.

—————————

I’m planning another trip. I assed around too long and now I suppose the UK is out of the question (too cold? too lonely?) , so I’m thinking about the Yucatan Peninsula. I have to decide like now. I’ve got to go and get back by the end of January. I keep messing around and changing my mind.  I could wait for some last minute deals (and that will be the excuse I use when  I wait until the last minute ;p ), but really I’m just making sure I’m going to be in the right place. I wish something would happen to help me decide.  I’ve been wishing that for a long time.

Hmmm. And I guess that’s all I can say about that right now.

ps: new contact email address for this blog is on the contact page

It’s important to the unfolding of this story, to know that when I was a young teen, I went to a house party and was gang raped by 5 young men. I’ve done a lot of work around this so have a lot of freedom to talk about it without reliving it but at times this old story surfaces and tonight it surfaced full blown.

I was invited to attend a small dinner party this evening by an affluent, likable business man whom I’ve been meaning to connect with.

Now I like to flirt and over the years, he and I have casually flirted with the understanding that there is nothing more in the picture.

Flirting for me – is a one foot in and one foot out deal. It’s kind of like sitting on a fence – no decision one way or the other. No risk and no action. It appears to be a pretty “safe” game to play and no one gets hurt (especially me). Now, recently I’ve come to realize, I flirt in many areas of my life. It manifests as torturous indecisiveness on the things that are risky, out of my comfort zone and if there is any possibility of getting hurt or failing.

I was running late so I called to let him know. We ended up flirting and one comment led to another. I hung up the phone to get ready.

But something did not feel right now. The little voice in my head had turned ON my “danger” alarm and I started feeling anxiety about going out with him to this unknown place, with unknown people, especially after the sexual banter.

Maybe it was set up? Maybe I’d be raped? My head spun with “maybe” thoughts. I replayed our conversation seeking more and more evidence from other things he said that could possibly support this story. Of course, I found what I was looking for and although it could have been interpreted different ways – I chose to frame it through the view of distrust.

I was overwhelmed with fear when I called him and left a message cancelling AND more or less blaming him.

And then I felt bad. AND I started another back and forth conversation. Maybe I shouldn’t have said no? Maybe I’m over-reacting? Was I acting out of fear? Or was it based on fact or maybe intuition? I was confused and very stuck.

I called my coach. I was clearly not going but did not feel peace – always a clue. We worked through finding peace and it boiled down to choosing either it was intuition or my old fear-based story. I chose intuition.

We then spoke of integrity. The integrity to honour myself vs the integrity of going because I said I would and that being true to my Self is precedent.

My business associate calls very irritated and speaks of lack of integrity and I hold my ground.

Moments later the realization comes to me that when I was raped; I DID have an intuitive sense not to go to this party, but ignored it. And then I REALLY get that this is not the same situation at all.

I call him back and I tell him what has gone on in my head and my past. He takes a deep breathe and promises that he will be more of a man than ever and be a gentleman.

As I drive, I must say that numerous times fear screamed in my head, telling me to turn around and I kept choosing to say it was safe.

When I get there, I was really battling these demons as I reached for the door. I wanted to bolt but I took a deep breath and open the terror-filled door.

The first thing I saw was many little toddlers and smiling children spinning around happily playing with balloons. I could have cried for joy. And I wanted to laugh.
It was the most beautiful sight I could have ever imagined.

In the meeting room people were happy, calm, warm and friendly. It was like Heaven. The host came over and started speaking of meditation and spirituality. He spoke of finding peace through letting go of the thoughts in our mind. He spoke of the torment of these thought and how to stay in the moment – in the present not the past. I’m thinking – what a gift I’m receiving in so many ways. We connected deeply and were moved to tears at times for the intimate sharing between us.

My friend just smiled and looked at me with love.

I learned that through the door of fear is Heaven.
And I just need to choose to faithfully jump in with both feet – fear and all.

What’s stops you in your life? What is the impact?

It’s the indecision.

The indecision about how best to live today.

It takes SO much thinking. It’s easier to fall asleep again.

So I’ve tried to do the thinking at night Pill, when I’m lying awake, so that there’s none of this waking-up-indecision-pressure-to-live-today-absolutely nonsense that makes me want to sleep more in the morning. But that hasn’t really been helping so much.

Any suggestions?

Pill: (murmur)

Me: Oh good.

Unappreciated . . . Unwanted . . . Unloved . . .

The child in me cries every time those emotions erupt. They come too often for me to ignore, and I finally meditated and traced my ”anger” to its source and saw a truth: I felt unappreciated, unwanted and unloved when the latest PTSD  explosion occurred. And maybe now, after looking within and seeing how  those feelings may have surfaced, I can cope with them better .

From what I learned, my mother nearly died during my child-birth. The baby Michael was shipped off to a “farm” in Mays Landing, New Jersey, where the grandmother raised the infant.

The boy’s father had been quoted as saying he would have preferred to see the son dead, and not see the pain such a birth caused his wife.

Could any of this have been absorbed by an infant, and more importantly, could those long suppressed feelings affect the man in middle age? Could they have contributed to events experienced in Vietnam and now mingle with fears, anxieties and a sense of loss I feel? 

That’s my struggle with PTSD. I learn more  about myself every day. Like today, I stopped at an “outlet” bread store for rolls. Picked up a dozen in a bag  and walked to the counter. An older man was standing there, waiting for an order he made the day before. The young man, behind the counter, appeared rushed. It was the day before Thanksgiving, and the store was crowded, even before noon.

I placed my bag on the empty counter, hoping that I could quickly pay and get out to complete some other chore. But the young man did not look at me. He simply said to “wait a second” when I moved my bag closer to his line of vision. No luck in getting quick service here.

The clerk left the counter. Returned and said something beneath his breath, only to leave the sales area a second time for the bakery in back. Other customers had walked up behind me with multiple bags of breads, rolls, pies and what not.

When the clerk returned, he lay two big boxes on the counter. I had to remove my bag and place it behind the cash register. The older man paid for his goods and had trouble getting them out of the door some eight feet away.

“Here, let me help you,” I said, opening and holding the door for him to get by. I felt good to have provided him service. But when I returned to the register, the couple that were behind me were now being waited upon. Their order seemed to go on and on.

My patience, however, did  not!

“A good deed never goes unpunished,” I said, loud enough for the cashier to hear me. Either he did not, or worse, he ignored me. The woman in line, however, did hear and offered an apology. “I’m not mad at you,”  I said to her and the man accompanying her.

“I mad at this asshole,” I barked, my anger rising  as I still was unable to get the sombitch attention. He continued to look toward the register, ignoring my challenge to his lack of courtesy.

As the man and woman looked at me, I knew I had done wrong. “I’m sorry,” I said, and added . “I have PTSD,” as if that could explain my rude behavior. I threw the bag of rolls to the floor and walked out of the store, blowing all other chores I had intended to complete.

“God, why am I  hyper-alert, hyper sensitive?” I asked. Please make me calm, mellow. Just don’t make death the only way for me to find that peace.

Almost 90 days after Gen. Stanley McChrystal asked for more troops in his report on the situation in Afghanistan, Pres. Barack finally made a fricking decision. Now that’s what I call exceptiona deliberative leadership (hint: that’s code for taking a really long time to reach the same conclusion as everyone else). While the President won’t announce what that decision is until next week, probably Tuesday, he did say:

Since no one can keep a secret these days, or perhaps because no one was made to pinky swear, likely details of the plan have come out. About 34,000 additional troops will deploy to Afghanistan, a number less than McChrystal’s request for 40,000.

Come to think of it, this whole scenario is kind of like deja vu. When the former US commander in Afghanistan, Gen. David McKiernan, requested more troops last February, Obama took his time making up his mind. McKiernan’s request was for 30,000 but Obama authorized only 17,000 troops. That means McChrystal’s actually only getting 21,000 more from where US forces should have been last spring. I wonder if Obama realizes he’s getting consistent advice from his military commanders. And, I hope his consistent under-resourcing doesn’t lead to another Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot moment.

Univserity , university , university . I could say it a million times over in my head or out loud and it wouldn’t terrify any less than the first time . I am applying to the University of Guelph before January 13th . I will be done Social 30 by that time . I will resend my transcripts in February and May . By May I will be finished all of my courses ( if I stick to my 2 modules / week schedule ) . The admissions average for the Bachelor of Bio-Resource Equine Management program is estimated at 70-76% . This means I need to get an admissions average of 83% or higher . For the program my admissions average will consist of my 6 highest grade 12 courses . I’m not sure if agriculture / forestry counts as a 30 level course , so I may need to complete chemistry 20 and 30 to apply for the degree program . English 30-1 , Social Studies 30 , Math Pure 30 , Biology 30 , Physics 30 , & Forestry 1110 . I’m also applying to the diploma equivelant of the program – Associates Diploma in Agriculture ( Equine Option ) . I could get a job with my diploma , and it would cost less because it is only a 4 semester ( 2 year ) course , but I would really preffer to major in equine . I believe the 8 semester ( 4 year ) degree program would open a lot more doors of opportunity for me . I really hope Jack supports me with this . I know we might end up in NY for a while , and I know we might end up moving around quite a bit if Jack ends up getting signed to the NHL ( if the “15 days left” doesn’t mean he’s about to join the military ) . There’s always after and it will be easier getting my education done now instead of saving it for later , just so I always know I have that something to fall back on if I need it .

Only 25 students are accepted into my program each year , so I really hope I have what it takes . I’m going to email a registrar for the Kemptville campus and ask if there’s anything extra they look for in successful applicants to the program

Indecisive.

The very word itself creeps me out.

Can’t think of anything more debilitating than this four-syllable word. It ranks up there with “impotent.” At least to someone who’s always seen himself  a “man of action.” Military might have had something to do with me. Take action, is what I learned,  so that no one can see how unsure you really are at times. Whatever you do, don’t freeze. Even a bad decision is better than none; appearing immobile is just like showing you’re “afraid.”

Oh boy, there goes another one of those words I hate to mention in public, “afraid.” How often have I been afraid to do something in life? Afraid to start something new, afraid to follow a different path. Afraid to Love?

Afraid that no one would care what I had to say or give a hoot if they even listened to me in the first place.

How, you may ask, did I get to this point? I can trace it directly to an article on “discernment,” provided by my internet friend, Steven Goodheart. Your actions set in motion your “intent,” is what I got out of this reading, and you before you act, you should know what “intent” you intend . . .

You understand that? Well, neither do I, and that is the crux of the matter. I don’t know what my “intent” is or what it should be in the first place.

I guess the bigger question is “what is one’s intention for life?”

Beats the hell out of me. And there’s the rub, as Shakespeare once said with his full intent aimed directly at me. I guess I’m looking for intent today. How can I choose to take a step, if I can not see where my next movement will take me, or what chain reaction it could possibly start?

So I’m stuck. Almost afraid to share this, believing that such an admission would only show weakness and make me too vulnerable to  what, I don’t know. See. I can’t even name the object of my fears! It’s almost as if I am waiting for something, someone to guide me, to point me into a direction to go, and give me a gentle little nudge.

And then I ask myself, “what would Woody Allen do in a situation like this? Because, that is exactly how I feel. Insecure and anxious. WoodyAllen-like. We share the same birth day, have the same biorhythms. Why not the same neurosis? (Or is that neuroses?)

Let me think about this. But not too long. I don’t “intend” to wait and hang around here all day! 

"British reason in English rhyme"

Those who have one foot in the canoe, and one foot in the boat are going to fall into the river.

Native American 

foto – the point at bellingen nov 09

When this woman asked at Deland High, “What does your father do Rod?”

My answer was, “He invests in real estate.”

“He’s a Realtor?”

“No, they buy and sell for other people, my dad invests for himself.”

It was a grey haired lady with long painted fingernails, named Jessica Hampton, she had a red tag that said, ‘Register Here’

She looked at all my papers three times, and then said, “Rod your supposed to have an adult parent with you at the time you check into any Florida school.”

“I brought all the required papers.” I pointed to a brown folder on the counter she had already looked at, “Isn’t everything there?”

“Yes all the necessary papers, but these all look like brand new papers.  Your papers say that last year you went to Palm Beach Middle?”

“Yes I did and my fathers in Daytona Beach on business today.”

“How did you get to school bus or dropped off?”

“I have a driver, he’s outside the office.”

“He can just take you back home and tomorrow have your investor father come to school with you.”

“My father wouldn’t want me to miss a day of school.”

“You really don’t look old enough for the 9th grade Rod.  I think your about eleven, and I think your dad faked some papers to get you ahead in school.”

“My father did not forge my papers!  If you can’t be a helpful old lady, then you should retire to an old folks home!  I’m fourteen and five days old!”

“Well you go home now little boy, you can’t even be on school property.  I don’t care how much you spent on your little suit, you can’t buy your way into Deland High!”  I stood right there, and glared at her.  She was insulting and hateful in her attitude. She brought out the worst in me, and I had some pointy devils down  inside me.

She pushed a button and a school guard in blue uniform came in and she said,  “Escort the student to his car, and if he is parked in a restricted area then issue  him a parking ticket.”

The big guard’s name was Jeff (he had a name tag).  He grabbed me under the arms and propelled me out the door, where my driver and bodyguard Bennie was standing.

Bennie was much bigger and had rarely had a reason to defend me.  Usually we just drove around and he followed me in the mall or at middle school.  People often kept their distance from Bennie.  He quickly removed the guard’s hands from me and put Jeff on the ground on his knees, and locked his hands behind him.  It was fun to see Bennie work, his movements were so fluid and smooth.

“What is this?”  the school guard said and I pointed to Jessica Hampton inside and said to Bernie, “The grey haired woman ordered him to kick me off campus.”

Jessica was talking to a girl who was lined up after me.  The girl was dark-haired and short like me and I had been embarrassed being taken out of the office like a criminal in front of the pretty girl.

“Arrest the woman Bennie”, I told my bodyguard, pointing at Jessica.  She of course pushed her button again and I heard an alarm ring, far off this time.

“Show her your badge Bennie, so we won’t have to shoot anyone.”

Bennie laid out his badge which said, ‘Federal Agent’/  It was a gold badge, and everyone know gold badges were the most important ones.  “Cuff this one I told Bernie, and as he put Jessica’s hands behind her back, I turned to the girl my size at the counter and said, “And you will stay with me today, you’re going to be my witness.”  I showed the girl my gold badge which said, “U.S. Federal Regulator”

The girl was clutching her new schedule of classes.  It looked like she was a 9th grader like me.  Her name was at the top of the paper and was Rosie Burns.

“Rosie I’m Rod.  Have you ever met a Regulator before?”

“No sir.”

“Well keep it to yourself.  We don’t want publicity.”  Rosie’s eyes got big, and she had beautiful brown eyes, when I showed her my badge.  I went to Regulator school in Washington D.C. every summer and the other boys talked on and on about how girls reacted to gold badges.  Rosie seemed like a great opportunity to me.

I reported to my first 2 classes with Rosie, they were General Science and Civics.  In both cases I explained that, “I am scheduled for this class, but Jessica Hampton didn’t have time to fill out mine and Rosie’s so we both follow Rosie’s.”

At lunch I found a table for Rosie and me and we had held hands going to the different classes and to lunch.  At my middle school I had a girlfriend who went around with me holding hands.  The other girl, Beth, never knew I was a regulator.  With Beth we had to talk about ‘holding hands’ and what it meant, and all that gobble gook.  With Rosie I just took her hand, and I got no complaint.  I began liking my Regulator’s badge.

Bennie went up and bought our lunches, and brought them out to us.  When we were settled at the table I said, “You can talk now Rosie.”

“What happened to the old woman in the office and the guard who were handcuffed?”  she said.

“I haven’t decided yet.  They committed serious crimes

Well your my witness, what did you see them do?”

“The woman called the guard to put you off campus because she didn’t know how important you are.”

“She had to be dragged out of the office.”

“Yes. Where are the woman and the guard?”

“I didn’t ask Bennie, but he probably locked them in the back of my car.  My car is equipped for transporting prisoners or slaves.”

“I never imagined that there were boys who were regulators.  I’ve read books, regulator stories about men who had that job.”

“Last summer at our regulator school we were ten boys.  I could take over full-time tomorrow if something happened to my father. or he retired.”

“Is your father the regulator for Florida?”

“Thats one of our states — the others are Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, South and North Carolina and Tennessee.

Do you know Rosie what regulators do?”

“In the books I read they stop corruption.”

“How do they say we do it?”

“Executions.”

“That’s a main part of it.”

“My family moved to Deland from Columbia South Carolina.  Did you execute people from South Carolina?”

“Sure I remember doing plenty of them.”

“How do you do it Rod?  I mean do you hang them?”

“Well it gets boring if your not imaginative.  Hanging is just a type of strangulation.  That’s always a non-messie type of elimination.  I like the ‘bloodless endings’ for most of those I do, but beheadings are so decisive. ”

Just then Bennie brought our meat loaf, green garden peas, and big biscuit that needed butter, but there was none.

I had finished everything but the biscuit when this big girl, who didn’t comb her hair well enough, she was maybe a senior, came to stand at my table and said,  “Are you Rod Stagger?”

“Yes I am.”  I said.

“Mr. McClory the Assistant Principal wants to see you in his office.”  the girl said, and just stood there.  I waited till Rosie finished her meat loaf and then Bernie took our plates and Rosie and I followed the senior girl, and Bernie followed me.

Les McClory’s office was small and I entered with Rosie and Les said, “I just need to talk to you Rod, not the girl.”

“She’s with me”  I said and pulled her down in the chair with me.

When Bernie closed the door and stayed outside the Vice Principal said, “I understand you’re a 9th grade student, Rod Stagger, and today you came to school without a parent.”

“That is correct.”

“I’m trying to piece together what has happened here today.  So as I understand it, from those I talked to, you objected to not being registered without a parent.  That is our rule, but you objected to that?”

“I objected to being grabbed and dragged out of the office at the orders of Jessica Hampton.”

“Mrs Hampton was just following school rules.  I am very strict about our rules here at Deland HIgh and Mrs Hampton has been on the job here for 25 years.”

“Well today she broke my rule.  I don’t allow anyone to grab me.”

“Oh yes I heard about the phony badge, I think you flashed a gold badge along with your driver.  And you don’t pretend to be a sheriff’s deputy or city cop, but a Federal Regulator?

I’m 43 years old son and I’ve never even met someone who has ever seen a real regulator.”

“So you think regulators are myths?”

“I think there are regulators, but they deal with big criminals and corrupt public officials.  They don’t live in places like Deland Florida.”

“Everyone knows how to report a big federal crime, or how to make the report.  Who do you call Mr. McClory?”

“There is a number listed under the U.S. Post Office Dept. in every directory.  It says ‘U.S. Regulator’.  It’s the one number even little kids are afraid to call.  They play pranks with the police and fire department, but they leave the Regulators alone.  Are you a complete idiot to have fake regulator badges?”

“That’s right, I suggest you can that number Mr. Vice Principal.  You need to report someone here at YOUR school claiming to be a Regulator.  Give his name as Rod Stagger, ‘Using a phony regulator  badge, and be sure to report that his driver flashed a phony federal agent badge.  Tell them that.”

He didn’t move to do anything, again,  he was indecisive.  The phone was right there on his desk and the directory, but he didn’t move.  So I finally said, “Oh that’s right all you know it’s hearsay.  I need to flash my badge at you.”  I pulled out the gold badge (they are real gold, not plated) and sort of pointed it at him.  Rosie squirmed in her seat, and that was quite pleasant.  I like squirming in Rosie, she’s a little hot firecracker of a girl, really beautiful and lively.

“Do you want Bernie to come in a show you his badge?”  I said, and threw my badge across his desk so he could look at it.  My name, number, age were all in the folder.  It even had my new address in Deland 100 Hillshire Drive.  It was a big old house on the Stetson University grounds and he probably knew it.  I was told it was 700 years old, and an historic landmark.  He probably knew or had seen the house.

“This is your chance to verify that my badge is the real thing.  We have almost limitless power for deciding matters of life and death.”  When I said ‘life and death’ the vice principal sort of had a n emotional jerk reaction.  Also Rosie got much closer to me.  She just flattened against me.

“Really I was just checking what was told me.  The badge looks like the real thing to me.

Are you a full regulator now Rod or do you take over if something happens to your father?”

“I’ve been to all the ruquired training in Washington and I’m officially a regularor.  I have the very same powers and obligations as a fully grown regulator.

I grew up in a house in South Miami  where we punished and mutulated people who needed their necks squeezed, almost every night.

You Les McClory will need to be punished because your rule led to the woman ordering the guard to assault me.”

“Look son I’m sorry!  I didn’t know a regulator would be coming to school!”

“Don’t talk so loud.  In fact it would be best right now if you got on the floor and crawled to where I’m sitting and began sucking on my shoes.”

He was caught up in his indecision again and just sat in his chair perfectly still.

“”You admitted that it is your rule that Jessica and the big guard named Jeff followed when they assaulted a regulator.”  He started to say something and I put my hand over my mouth to show he should not talk.

“This is not a court of law where you can talk, you are guilty and will be punished.”

That statement caused the vice principal in his nice suit and tie to get on his knees and quickly crawl to my feet and begain sucking my shoes,  and Rosie began kissing my neck and hugging me.

It was just like this boy who was a regulator student from Montana had told me in Washington, “Girls just melt in your hands when they see that gold badge.  During sex I keep it on the bed.  It’s magic.”

All comments are welcome, send them to Ray Cates at rcates2@cox.net   or fax me at  1-352-629-1573

Another story with links is: http://unsightlyteeth.wordpress.com

Self has decided to borrow a page from Rotten Tomatoes, which dared to ask Roland Emmerich (he of execrable “2012″ fame) which were his five favorite films of all time (Two of his five were those old reliables “Citizen Kane” and “Lawrence of Arabia”) Self is just glad he didn’t include “Gone with the Wind”!  (But then, he wouldn’t, now, would he?  Being the action director that he is!).

Anyhoo, self was inspired by the concept and will now list five movies which she thinks are most deserving of being called “Best of All Time” (Which is a totally different thing from her Five Favorite Movies of All Time, but, once again, self digresses):

• Alien
• Master and Commander
• Platoon
• The Godfather, Parts 1 and 2 (That said, self thinks Part 3 is probably one of the worst movies of all time)
• The Road Warrior

How terribly bloody self’s choices are, she just realized!  And she mustn’t forget:  “The French Connection” and practically everything by Kurosawa (“Kagemusha,” “Ran,” “The Seven Samurai,” among others)! And “Princess Mononoke”! Now, self can’t decide which of the above-named movies should make the cut to the “Five Best.” This is definitely harder than she thought it would be!

And here are some of self’s Favorite Movies of All Time: “Speed.” “Ang Tanging Ina N’Yong Lahat” (Saw it in Manila just this past January). The first “Terminator” movie. “Star Trek,” the re-boot.  “The Painted Veil.” Stephen Chow’s hilarious “Kung-Fu Hustle.” This year’s “The Hurt Locker.” The oddly compelling Western/vampire movie “Ravenous.” Richard Lester’s “The Three Musketeers.” And all the Bourne movies. OMG, self knows this is getting out of hand. Someone, stop self before she goes bananas!

And here are some more movies, these more like “guilty pleasures” than anything else:

• 300 (Astinos liiiives!!!)
• Ever After (the movie that started self paying attention to Drew Barrymore as an actress. Also: how cute is Dougray Scott???)
• The Lake House (Keanu liiiives!!!)

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

When then Sen. Barack Obama (D-IL) began running for president three freaking years ago, I was opposed to him as a candidate. My issue with him? I didn’t think he had enough experience. I still remember a line from a morning talk radio show: “Obama’s only foreign policy experience is his trips to International House of Pancakes.” Never mind that two full years of campaigning just wears you down. Perhaps that was the point.

Next up, Obama pulled his name from the Michigan primary because the state went against Democratic National Committee rules and made the primary earlier than others. I don’t take lightly when candidates diss my state and fellow Michiganians. If Obama had had any chance with me, he threw it in the trash then and there. It didn’t help I disagreed with his vote on the Wall Street bailout.

Barack Obama is now President. He’s been spending money like a whole shipful of drunken sailors. Only now he wants to cut back some because China’s nervous about him maxing out the national credit cards. And what do we have to show for all that spending? Not much except maybe fancy “Stimulus” signs along the highways. And he’s still pushing for a total healthcare overhaul. This is a complex issue whose real ramifications and costs are not clearly forseen despite Congressional Budget Office projections.

How’s the Commander-in-Chief doing with leadership? Not so well, if you ask me. Early on he recognized a need to refocus on Afghanistan in the Global War on Terror, er overseas contingency operations. Since then, he appointed a new commander on the ground, Gen. Stanely McChrystal, whom he asked for an assessment. In September, McChrystal said he needed 40,000 more troops in order to be successful. Obama’s reaction was like let me get back to you on that. Two months later still no decision. As I’ve said before, Afghanistan is where the 9-11 attacks were launched from and the same bad guys are still in the area. This is not time to dilly dally and look at your feet like a nervous school child.

There are certainly plenty of conservative bloggers out there who miss no opportuntity to bash Obama’s policies, agenda, and record. For others, I think the novelty is beginning to wear off. Folks are beginning to see that new suit is actually nothing at all. Via Dewey from Detroit comes this from HillBuzz:

We know absolutely no one in Bush family circles and have never met former President George W. Bush or his wife Laura.

If you have been reading us for any length of time, you know that we used to make fun of “Dubya” nearly every day…parroting the same comedic bits we heard in our Democrat circles, where Bush is still, to this day, lampooned as a chimp, a bumbling idiot, and a poor, clumsy public speaker.

Oh, how we RAILED against Bush in 2000…and how we RAILED against the surge in support Bush received post-9/11 when he went to Ground Zero and stood there with his bullhorn in the ruins on that hideous day.

We were convinced that ANYONE who was president would have done what Bush did, and would have set that right tone of leadership in the wake of that disaster. President Gore, President Perot, President Nader, you name it. ANYONE, we assumed, would have filled that role perfectly.

Well, we told you before how much the current president, Dr. Utopia, made us realize just how wrong we were about Bush. We shudder to think what Dr. Utopia would have done post-9/11. He would have not gone there with a bullhorn and struck that right tone. More likely than not, he would have been his usual fey, apologetic self and waxed professorially about how evil America is and how justified Muslims are for attacking us, with a sidebar on how good the attacks were because they would humble us.

Honestly, we don’t think President Gore would have been much better that day. The world needed George W. Bush, his bullhorn, and his indominable spirit that day…and we will forever be grateful to this man for that.

As we will always be grateful for what George and Laura Bush did this week, with no media attention, when they very quietly went to Ft. Hood and met personally with the families of the victims of this terrorist attack.

FOR HOURS.

The Bushes went and met privately with these families for HOURS, hugging them, holding them, comforting them.

If there are any of you out there with any connection at all to the Bushes, we implore you to give them our thanks…you tell them that a bunch of gay Hillary guys in Boystown, Chicago were wrong about the Bushes…and are deeply, deeply sorry for any jokes we told about them in the past, any bad thoughts we had about these good, good people.

You may be as surprised by this as we are ourselves, but from this day forward George W. and Laura Bush are now on the same list for us as the Clintons, Geraldine Ferraro, Stephanie Tubbs Jones, and the other political figures we keep in our hearts and never allow anyone to badmouth.

Criticize their policies academically and intelligently and discuss the Bush presidency in historical and political terms…but you mess with the Bushes personally and, from this day forward, you’ll answer to us.

We hope someday to be able to thank George W. and Laura in person for all they’ve done, and continue to do. They didn’t have to head to Ft. Hood. That was not their responsibility.

The Obamas should have done that.

But didn’t.

Wouldn’t.

Thank goodness George W. is still on his watch, with wonderful Laura at his side.

We are blessed as a nation to have these two out there…just as we are blessed to have the Clintons on the job, traveling the world doing the good they do.

And we are blessed to have Dick Cheney, wherever he is, keeping tabs on all that’s going on and speaking out when the current administration does anything too reckless and dangerous.

Cheney’s someone else we villainized and maligned in the past who we were also wrong about. There has never been a Vice President, including Gore, Biden, or Mondale, who was more supportive of gay rights than “Darth Cheney”. There has never been a Vice President more spot-on right about the dangers facing this country from Islamic terrorism.

We live in strange, strange times indeed.

We are now officially committed fans of George W. and Laura Bush. We are fans of Dick Cheney. Our gratitude for them makes us newly protective of them, and the continued role they play in this country.

After the primary battle of 2008, we never thought we’d go back to Texas for anything, but sometime in 2010 we want to find some event in Dallas the Bushes will be at so at least one of us can go up to them, tell them we are deeply sorry for ever thinking ill of them, and thank them from the bottom of our hearts for their service to America.

We’re sure they will just stare at us and wonder why these gay Chicagoans are crying, but we don’t think we can get through a meeting with them without being emotional.

What they did at Ft. Hood for those families humbles us. Every day, the Bushes are most likely doing something just like it behind the scenes.

We hope if any of you encounter them you will let them know this is deeply appreciated beyond partisan lines.

We will never look at the Bushes, the Bush presidencies, or their legacies the same again…and someday when his presidential library is built, we will be so proud to visit there and tell anyone will listen about November 10th, 2009, the day we finally appreciated former President George W. Bush and his wife Laura.

Thank you for your service, Mr. President. We’re sorry we didn’t appreciate you while you were in office, but we thank Heaven we’ve wised up and can see the good you are out there doing, under the radar, today.

Emphasis is mine. So, how’s that for an eye-opening realization? Although I suspect Mr. Bush would be mortified knowing he’s on the same list as the Clintons, Geraldine Ferraro, and Stephanie Tubbs Jones, but we get the point.

First of all, there’s the Newsom post: Almost 1,000 hits. Or maybe over a thousand. By now.

Apparently, Mayor Newsom is a very mysterious person. Who pops up here and there, completely unannounced. As witness last week’s appearance at the Philippine American Writers and Artists (PAWA)/ Arkipelago Books reading at the Bayanihan Community Center.

Second, it is raining. When the weather report, which self checks every day, said it was not supposed to rain until Monday.

Self was going to mail off a grant application today. She just finished assembling the package this morning. Yesterday, she’d taken the precaution of dropping by the local UPS place in Sequoia Station, and the man there told her it would cost $26 to send her application by overnight mail to where it needs to go.

Then, this morning, after self scampered back there with her completed application, the man she spoke to yesterday was not there. In his place was another man, who told her that the overnight mail would be $43. And all self had added to the package (since getting it weighed yesterday) was five pages.

Self didn’t even bat an eye. Just said, “OK, let me think about it.”

Hmmm… Monday is the day she teaches at Writing Center all morning. She wonders if she can drive the grant to the office where it needs to go. It’s only 30 miles away, but her car is kaput. God, how the state of her car does seem to determine everything these days. If only she could take the bus. But the bus will take her hours.

And today is the Merlinda Bobis reading. Oh God, what to do, what to do.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Hey Obama, there’s no rush to give our Soldiers the extra Manpower they desperately need in Afghanistan!

Obama, you’re a Fucking Idiot. The longer you wait to figure out what your Politically Correct Decision will be, the more Soldiers will die. You said you need a few more weeks to decide what you will do. I say We don’t need a few more weeks to Figure out that you a FUCKING PUTZ!!!!!!!! Our Soldiers need more Boots on the Ground and you’re Fucking around with making a Decision. Send in more troops you Idiot. It’s not a hard decision to make. You don’t want to send in more Troops, then pull our Troops out of Afghanistan. Don’t sit on the fence you Moron. Make a Fucking Decision. Oh lest I forget, you are the Chosen One, so you shouldn’t be questioned by us Mere Mortals. I got a NEWS FLASH for ya, YOU’RE NOT THE CHOSEN ONE, and you are a Non Decisive President. One who bows down to leaders of other Countries. Do we the Citizens of The United States expect anything more out of you………….of course not.

So you keep delaying you’re decision, and keep having your Speechwriters write those speeches you are going to be giving about our Soldiers who will surely end up DYING because of your Indecisions…………You are The Chosen One…………The Chosen Buffon!!!

Do I or don’t I?

If I do, can I?

If I don’t, how can I?

If I can’t decide, how will I?

It’s like that game, when you took a flower from the grass and plucked the petals one by one until you got your answer. He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me. But I always got the odd-numbered petals, so I’d just pick up a new flower every time and wait until he loved me. Which he never did. It was just a children’s game, so what did it matter?

The last time I did it, though, I was in seventh grade, sitting on the field in my socks in the shade, watching cars pass me by, enjoying the silence. I pulled the petals off, watching them fall between blades of grass that waved in the wind. I remember who I did it for, too. He wasn’t what I’d go for nowadays, but he was my first major crush. Me watching him from the back of the band room, sad when he didn’t show up. And the flower was right the first time: he loved me not.

Too young then to feel heartbreak. Dreams every night, nothing dirty or explicit. Me watching him from a bus window. And the thoughts before falling asleep, thoughts that wriggled into the crevices of my mind, spinning me no lies but possible futures. When he said to his friend that he didn’t think I liked him, I didn’t care. Too young then to feel pain.

But now I have felt the first heartbreak. Something that ripped through me, a bash through my heart, through my integrity. Look at him, be in love. Go back home, detest him. But come to school, and gaze into those eyes. And watch his hands touch hers and feel the tear through my heart, the rage in my hands, frozen and immobile, unable to do anything but sit and watch and think of what to write later, the tears I’d cry.

So if I say yes to this, what will happen?

Will I wait and love him and listen to him until he turns on me and hurts me and runs off with a popular girl? Somegirl who can’t lift herself off the floor. And will I be tossed aside?

And if I say no to this, what will we do?

Will we continue on as friends? No. Will we continue on as lovers? No.

And if I honestly don’t know?

I’ll just have to wait to find out.

so i haven’t blogged about my life in awhile. i never really felt the need to. there isn’t much to say (sadly). i’m still stuck in the dreadful job search. parents constantly calling me to ask what i am doing with my life. i really don’t want to give up on the writing thing. i love it. i will always love to write. and i dream about working for a magazine or online publication. at the same time, the job market is dwindling. i graduated a year and a half ago, been on countless interviews and i’m still sitting here writing for free. damn.

i always loved the spanish language and culture. i went to spain and it was definitely an experience. i know i wouldn’t mind being a spanish teacher. besides the fact that i love speaking spanish, i love organizing and teaching. it’s definitely something i’ve thought about. i know if i go back to school next semester, i would have a lot easier time finding a job.

but am i ready to give up on my first dream? my heart says no. my head says yes. every single day i change my mind. it’s an endless cycle

basically, i’m stuck in an indecisive rut.

so naturally, i get this crazy idea to rebel. i want another piercing. at first i wanted a tattoo (i still do), but i’m waiting on that until i find something i really like. now i’m thinking about getting another facial piercing (i have had my eyebrow pierced since i was 16…bet some of you didn’t know that). anyway, it’s ridiculous. i’m 23. i’m looking for a job. and i’m going to go out and get a ring pierced into my face again?!?

don’t worry, i’ll probably wake up tomorrow and wonder what the hell i was thinking, and consequently chicken out.

here’s to indecisiveness!

On his way to visit the Orient, President Barack Obama stopped off at Elmsdorf Air Force Base in Alaska. He told the crowd there:

Okay, so here’s where I’m confused. At his 8th Afghanistan strategy meeting since mid-September, Obama gave his planning team a redo. WTF? Ironically, Obama tossed out the four options presented to him on Veterans’ Day. It’s been 2 months since the request for 40,000 troops from Gen. Stanley McChrystal. His boss, Gen. David Petraeus, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs Adm. Michael Mullen, and Secretary of Defense Robert Gates all endorsed McChrystal’s plan.

The Afghan war is in direct response to the 9-11 attacks. It is inextricably tied to our national security and the defense of Pakistan, a nuclear power. The resurgence of the Taliban only makes the region more volatile and critical. When California Democrat Sen. Diane Feinstein says the mission is in serious jeopardy, you know you’re already behind the power curve.

Iraq took the focus off Afghanistan and Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld fired Gen. Shinseki, Chief of Staff of the Army, for saying the US needed a lot more boots on the ground. Lo and behold, after toppling Saddam Hussein, civil order in Iraq disintegrated. It took a troop surge and 4 years to fix that fatal error. Along the way, though, we learned a lesson. Protecting the people works. On top of that, Gen. McChrystal was directly involved in Iraq operations during the surge. A similar move in Afghanistan will protect the people from the Taliban and make it harder for those who want to fight to join the Taliban. As security improves, there will be more trust for the government and, therefore, more willingness to be part of its Army and Police. Sounds like setting ourselves up for success, if you ask me.

Apparently we’ve not learned the lessons of Vietnman or Rumsfeld II since Obama doesn’t seem to be listening to his military experts. Not deciding what to do in Afghanistan shows a lack of leadership, a lack of a strategy, or a refusal to decide. There’s a growing feeling the latter is the case, considering every little upset adds weeks to the decision process. Since there aren’t enough troops in Afghanistan, and those that are there don’t have the right equipment, choosing not to decide would be criminal. It would be tantamount to failing to take action with MAJ Hasan’s warning signs.

It’s hazardous to psychoanalyze your family members, obnoxious to psychoanalyze your friends, and downright dubious to psychoanalyze a nation. Nevertheless:

I’ve been thinking about the national mood, which is cranky. In four critical areas we are teetering on the verge of decision: health care, Afghanistan, financial regulation and climate change. All four are extraordinarily complex, all four appear urgent, and as a nation we are finding it very difficult to make up our minds about all four.  For each of these concerns I give at least even odds that we will not reach any decision of consequence in the coming year.  (Of course, not to decide is to decide, but in most of these cases the same issues would then be back with us next year.)

This indecision feels bad. I find myself looking back longingly on our election just slightly more than a year ago, when it seemed that we had made up our mind to something fresh and new. That felt good. Elections, however they turn out, give the sense of decision in a way that Congressional deliberation very rarely does. (It was the Republicans’ turn to feel good in last week’s gubernatorial elections—their turn to feel as though they had accomplished something.)

I relate our current crankiness to the dis-ease I myself feel when I am trying to make up my mind about a personal matter. Whether the decision is big or small, I am restless, crabby, and unproductive. I can’t sit still. I look for distractions. (Bless the internet for providing them, better than TV ever did!) All the alternatives seem bad. I need to spend more time analyzing their flaws. So many unknown aspects could go wrong.

Some people get so overwhelmed that they literally cannot make a decision. But healthier minds usually manage to move ahead. We decide on the Grand Tetons as our vacation destination, we plunk down money to reserve a cabin (lots of unknowns there), we put the dates on our calendar, we begin to get dog sitters and house sitters and all the rest.

And then we feel better. The unknowns remain. So do the imperfections of our choice. But we are in motion. We will work out the problems as we go. We will live with the imperfections.

In all four areas of national choice, we’re stuck in the crabby land of indecision. Added to that, we have a constitution that was deliberately crafted to make decisions difficult. (Thank God it’s not California’s constitution, which was crafted to make us crazy.) Added to that, there’s a partisan spirit in the land that sidetracks deliberation.

Beware of governments making decisions that aren’t thought through. (Remember Iraq?) I’m glad for the deliberative process. I realize that making a decision, any decision, feels better in the short run, but it doesn’t necessarily feel better in the long run.

At some point, though, you know all you are going to know, and it’s time to decide. Will we? Will we decide on a direction for any of these four matters within the next year? I hope so. I want to move on. I want to feel better.