Mr. Impatient Goes to School.

People need to get a fucking grip.

I'm driving to Parkland College today, and some impatient fuck tail-gated me. I would like to point out I was driving five miles above the speed limit. Apparently, that was not fast enough. I'm driving in Champaign, Illinois, I turn off of South Country Fair Drive onto Bradly Avenue, and the driver in the red car passed me on the left while yelling at me through his driver-side window. I couldn't hear what he was saying simply because the traffic muffled his words. But whatever.

I'm not surprised I encountered an impatient driver; I come across them everyday I drive, but the circumstances still bothered me. The time was 10:30am, and I was on South Country Fair Drive, which is a road I use to bypass most of the traffic on Bradly, and this red car was right on my ass. Since the time was in the middle of an hour, I don't understand why Road Rage was so angry. Classes at Parkland start at the top of the hour, so even if he was late by thirty minutes, driving wildly would not enable him to be less late than he already was. If you are late by five minutes or by thirty minutes you are late.

I have to wonder what is wrong with people that experience road rage. Do they realize they are operating a piece of hardware that weighs at least 2000 pounds? Do they realize that the energies contained in heavy objects traveling at "slow" speeds is still enough to do serious damage to other drivers, property, and themselves? No. They don't realize this. They only care about getting home or to work as quickly as possible. They have to get there NOW regardless of the fact that they are not the only ones on the road.

Driving simply is not worth the aggravation of dealing with other people and their impatient attitudes. I am seriously considering buying a season bus pass in the near future because of the stress I feel while driving. I've already been in one accident that was not my fault, and it was not a very positive experience. It was horrifying. It was confusing.

Come on, people. Drive defensively.

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sad song bird

I am a bit depressed. Yesterday, I was visiting the pool next door, just visiting friends. As I was leaving, I almost walked on a baby robin chick. I nearly freaked out! Actually, I did. I called the pool people over to see if they could help me with this poor, defenseless chick. They could not. In fact, one person probably made the situation worse. Katie picks up the chick and, for some unexplainable reason, places it in a terracotta pot. It was not an empty pot; It had a fig tree in it, so the bird wasn't at the bottom of some huge planter. Anyway...I think she thought that it was good to get the chick off the ground, and maybe it was. I don't know. Apparently, the chick parents didn't think so. They were flying overhead, chirping madly, and trying to poop on us. Yes really.

Anyway, I gathered myself. I carefully picked up the robin chick, and gave it a close inspection. From what I could see, it did not look injured. Hell, I am no veterinarian, I don't know for sure. It looked...intact and uninjured. I placed the baby chick back on the ground so the parents could see it, and hopefully feed it. I walked over to the neighbor's house because he has a DSL internet connection. I google animal rescue for Urbana, Illinois, and I gather some phone numbers. I called some of those numbers, and apparently, everything stops after 5pm. There was nothing those associations could do, or wanted to do. I would say I was away for about 45 minutes.

I walk back to Kevin's back yard, and the chick is gone! I am fairly certain no wild animals scavenged the still-living robin chick. I scoured the back yard, and it was not there. There were also no chick remains, so I am slightly hopeful the bird is still alive. I heard Katie relocated it again to a safer location in the back yard. I don't know for sure because I can't find the damn thing.

Anyway...nothing happens unless there are pictures. I took some pictures of the helpless robin chick yesterday. I really, really hope the bird is ok...somewhere.



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Mantis rescue

Today I found a praying mantis on the rear of my car.

I drove to school today, simply because I wanted to take my time in the morning; I didn't want to have to leave my house one hour before I had to be at school. Utilizing public transportation, though inexpensive, is time consuming. So, I drove to school, then I drove to downtown Champaign to putz around on the interweb. I went to open my trunk and there was this darling little praying mantis. It was barely three quarters of an inch long. I gently coaxed it into my hand. The mantis perched itself on my index finger. As I looked closer, the little thing had a brown body and green claws. It was simply cute.

I placed the praying mantis in a shruberry where I hope it will make itself at home feasting on the other insect vermin that annoys so many human lives. I wish I had my digital camera. I would have taken a picture of it.

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Independence Day Celebration...and other engagments

• Friday:
  • I spot-checked the entire house to ensure it was clean enough to receive guests. I made the guest bed; I vacuumed both the upstairs and downstairs; I washed the bathroom rugs from both bathrooms; I dusted the furniture and floors. Cleaning sure does take quite a bit of time to accomplish.
  • Kevin's friends from Chicagoland arrive...all five of them. Kevin ensures that all the guest bedrooms in this house, and Phillip's house, are squared away.
  • Later on, set-up of the celebration commences. The garage is cleared of vehicles, and tables are set up to place the hor d'eorves.
  • People start to arrive.
  • I show guests where food is, where the pool is, and where the bathroom is.
  • I snack a bit on watermellon.
  • Eventually, I get in the pool. Since I was the only adult, I guess it was job to throw kids around for about five hours.
  • I leave the pool all "pruny", and shower.
  • Kevin and I planned on going to the fireworks, but did not go. His friends were tired from driving three hours and spending an entire day outside swimming and eating.
  • Instead we all bitch about reality TV.
  • We all go to bed.
• Saturday
  • I wake up with a splitting head-ache. I rarely get head-aches. This one must have been from all the physical exertion of child-tossing, and consumption of chlorine and other pool chemical cleaners. I have to be careful on how fast I stand up. I have to regulate my blood pressure. :(
  • Everyone arrives in Kevin's dining room and I serve all the guests breakfast.
  • After that, they go pool-side and bath in the sun and swim a bit.
  • I obstain from swimming because I still get splitting head-aches from standing up too fast. Urgh.
  • After the pool, all seven of us make plans to go to downtown Champaign to drink and eat out.
  • We go in seperate cars.
  • Since I misunderstood where we were to meet up, me and three others walk around Downtown for a few minutes. Oops.
  • Not too long after the extra mileage, all seven of us meet up at Picaro, which is one door down from Radio Maria. This place is hoity-toity. I decide the next time I go there I'll dress up. :|
  • We make plans to go to Fiesta Café. I had to admit I really wasn't in the mood for Americanized Mexican food.
  • Around 9pm: Kevin's group drives down Pecaro; My group walks over from Pecaro. Fiesta Café is closed.
  • Still hungry, we all walk across the street to Basmati.
  • We order.
  • We realize Indian food is a great substitute when we are hungry and really don't care what we eat!
  • We all go back to Kevin's house after eating mass quantities of ethnic food with curry.
  • To pass the time, we watch some episodes of Ren & Stimpy. We all laugh at the "Powdered Toast Man" episode. Whodathunk, right?
  • Bedtime. Even though I am tired, I still suffer from insomnia. WTF, Brain.
• Sunday
  • Wake up with a head-ache, still. I am still perplexed as to the real reasons I have one.
  • I drink mass quantities of water to counter-act dehydration and chemical ingestion.
  • All seven of us eat breakfast.
  • Later, we go sit pool-side (again) and soak in the sun. I do the same, although very, very carefully.
  • As the day progresses, some people leave. We say our good-byes.
  • In the mid-afternoon, the last three leave for Chicagoland. I dry-hump their car as a substitute for the hand-wave. They leave.
  • Kevin and I start the huge clean-up of having multitudes of guests over his house.
  • I wash five loads of laundry.
  • I would just like to say that doing that much laundry sucks so very much.
  • It is now near the end of the weekend.

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I would say that everyone had a very good Independance Day celebration. Having Kevin's friends over is always a pleasure, since they only come down once a year. I guess throwing parties is as much fun as attending them. I just hate the clean-up after. Our refridgerator is packed full of food that was not consumed. It looks like Kevin and I will be living off of left-overs for a short while.

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Little moth, big close-up.

I have a digital camera. I have a (very, very slow) internet connection. I have LJ friends who post pictures all the time. I have these things, but I rarely take pictures, and I don't update my blog(s) often. I seriously need to update my blogs on a regular basis instead of once in a while. So...I think I'll start posting more pictures. That way, I'll kill two birds with one stone. *nerd attack*

I would like to thank twelvefootnine for getting my ass in gear and start flexing my photographic muscle.


This is actually one of my cropped close-up pictures of a lense-whoring moth that was on a handrail.












Due to low light levels, you can see the moth's proboscis extended around the edge of the wood handrail. This picture is still awesome, even through the blurriness.





After the moth, I found a catepillar on the same handrail. Apparently, it had places to be because it kept running away while I tried to photograph it.






Yup. That is my wrist and arm. During the last two pictures, the caterpillar raced up my arm. It eventually found its way to my bicep muscle. I wonder where it was wanting to go? Oh hell, it is just a caterpillar. It probably wanted to gorge itself on some leaves or something.





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Out Options

I had an interesting conversation with Christopher R. yesterday. Apparently, he is considering entering J.A.G. Anyway, the whole discussion starts like this:

It is nearly 9pm, yesterday, and I was cleaning up the kitchen, since Kevin and I just had dinner. The phone rings, and immediately I think that it is some charity call asking Kevin for money for their cause(s). This household gets charity calls all the time, and it is incredibly irritating. It is even more irritating that there is no caller-id that I can use to see who is calling. We get so many charity calls that I asked Kevin for the manual to his phone: I wanted to read on how to reduce the number of rings that go off before the answering machine picks up the phone. Anyway, the phone rings, I think it is a charity call, but it is not: It is CR. In not so many words, he says that he is considering going into JAG, and he wanted to know my experiences while I was enlisted in the Marine Corps.

We agree on a meeting time and place, and I hang up the phone. It was about fifteen minutes before he picked me up, and during this time my mind was calculating all the permutations as to his possible experiences he would encounter if he did enter JAG. I sat back and analyzed myself and my experiences and expectations I had during my four years in the MC, and there are certain aspects I simply couldn't comprehend before I took the plunge and enlisted. "What did I expect" versus "What actually happened" or "What did I experience" are two completely different things. Expectations and experiences are two completely different universes that are usually completely different from each other.

Later on, he picks me up and I get in his car. He tells me, first off, the main reasons for this consideration is the fact that he finished school and is unemployed, and that he is hugely in debt. I tell him, outright, that he shouldn't go into JAG.

*sigh*

Ok. There are many, many reasons why someone would enter the armed forces. Half are good. Half are bad. "I'm in debt and looking for a way to get out of debt" is not one of those reasons. "I'm looking for a 'job'" is another bad reason to join. Unfortunately, those were the first two reasons he gave me. Now, if he said something along the lines of, "I'm a patriot", or "I want to serve my country", or "I want to be a part of something that is bigger than myself", then I would say the he has the right mind-set. It is his frame of mind that would ultimately mean he would hate his term. Of course, those reasons aren't even my biggest concerns regarding the tribulations he would encounter if he did take the dive.

I told Chris that he shouldn't enter JAG because he would have to go back in the closet. Sectioning off your sexuality for "x" number of years while he fulfills his contract can be incredibly strenuous. I told him the thought of going back in the proverbial closet doesn't sound too bad. Unfortunately the actual reality of doing that is worse than can be conceived. I should know, I have first-hand experience re-entering the closet after I left it three years before. I told Chris that he simply cannot be an "out" gay guy in the armed forces. Also, there are certain gay venues that he would have to forgo so that his associates wouldn't "find out" he is gay. He would have to forgo gay bars, obviously. He would have to forgo obvious gay relationships. He would have to forgo speaking up (and speaking out) for gay causes. Being a gay man in the armed forces would be a lonely experience for him. There is no other way to say that.

Him and I discussed this crazy idea for about ninety minutes at Esquire, in downtown Champaign. He drove me home. Then I got angry. I've been thinking of my enlistment lately, and my experiences I had during that time. There were some ridiculously fun times I had. There were also some ridiculously infuriating times I had. Now, some of those infuriating experiences could have been avoided all together if the Armed Forces got over its childish fear and hatred of the "big, bad, scary" homosexual.

I went through thirteen weeks of Boot Camp. There, my ass got kicked on a daily basis by Drill Instructors. I was sleep deprived, hungry, and scared of the challenges at hand. I had to learn how to fire the M16A2 Service Rifle. I had to repel down a wall forty feet above the ground using only my arm strength and one rope pinned against my back. I had to get fumigated with CS gas in the gas chamber. I was taught to kill people. Afterwards, I went through an additional three weeks of MCT where I learned how to throw live grenades. Then I went to Twenty-nine Palms, California, and spent another two months training for my MOS in the Marine Corps. I spent two years in Okinawa, Japan. I spent six weeks in Korea. I was ordered to Afghanistan for five months. During that time I came under goddamn rocket attack several times. During my four years, I cross-trained into other MOS fields, and I helped people learn my MOS. I also earned "Expert Shooter" status with my M16A2 Service Rifle. Twice. In addition, I also learned how to fire numerous other weapons as well. I did my four years. I received my Honorable discharge. Unfortunately, these things are still not enough for me to come out of the goddamn closet and say "I'm gay" to my superiors. That, right there, is mountain of pure BULLSHIT!

It was bullshit for me to put my ass on the line -- several times -- for the Marine Corps and for my country, and yet I couldn't come out of the closet! It is bullshit for Chris to channel his energy, youth, and knowledge into a system that would kick him out for something he has no control over. It is pure bullshit to ask any one who is gay, to do all these dangerous things, sacrifice certain freedoms, and put their lives in actual danger, but they can't be honest and say "I'm gay." It simply is not fair.

Since homophobia is still so prevalent in the Armed Forces, I can only assume that we are not wanted at all. The "Don't Ask..." policy still enables good, honest people to be kicked out due to...genetics. Since we are not wanted, gays shouldn't enlist (or get commissioned) in the first place. If we are so maligned, we should all give the Armed Forces the middle-finger and tell them to kiss our asses as they try to fill the ranks we would fill. Only when the ban on gay men and women is lifted is when I will change my mind.

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