Darned Light Bulb Burned Out

I didn't realize how difficult it would be to maintain this diary when I first started it. It might have been a bit easier if the events in my life were more significant than, say, deciding whether to put one or two spoons full of sugar on my Corn Flakes every morning, or whether to walk in clockwise or counterclockwise circles afterward; but they haven't been.

My life used to be interesting. Some day in the not-too-distant future, it may become interesting again (relatively speaking) -- although it will never again be what it once was (if I do say so myself). If it eventually improves one percent, or even three percent, I guess I'll count that as a positive event.

That being said, I'm not a big fan of the aging process. For me, looking on the bright side, as far as the future goes, is like waiting patiently for the band on the Titanic to play my favorite song.

For eleven months now, I have put a fair amount of pressure on myself to write these diary entries, even though subject matter is scarce. As you can see, I haven't been very successful (there are also a lot of bungled entries cluttering my hard drive). If I were a gifted prolific writer, as some of you are, this would be easy. But I'm not. Writing well, for me, is hard work (even this entry is causing me a lot of trouble). For some time now, I've realized that I should be focusing all that hard work on my favorite offline projects, the ones that have been important to me for as long as I can remember. They have suffered severely in the past few years. Therefore, I believe it's time for me to take an official break from this online diary stuff for a while (my many unofficial breaks in recent months were spent trying to write entries, so they don't count). Only time will tell if this official break is permanent. Presently, I have no idea.

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I will leave you with the following thought: Shortly after writing the above four paragraphs last night, I watched Finding Neverland, starring Johnny Depp. If you want to know the sort of inspired character I used to be -- the sort of inspired writer I used to be -- watch that movie. It will tell you more about me than I could ever hope to do in my own words.

Random Thoughts & A Survey

It is once again time for an entry filled with random thoughts on stuff and nonsense. Oh, yeah... And my favorite closet sadist has taken another jab at me with yet another sharp stick, daring me to come out of my hiding place and fill out yet another revealing survey. :-) I also took one of the most scholarly, accurate tests of all time (it's hard to write that with a straight face), which I found on the blog of southern Michigan's best diarist, Kathleen. Both the survey and the test results are included at the end, along with a link to the test (I think) if any of you wish to find out what era you are most suited to inhabit. So, let the random rambling begin:

Ten Random Thoughts on Stuff and Nonsense

• Last weekend my cousin and his wife arrived here nearly unexpectedly from Sioux Falls, SD. They called while still about two hours from town to let me know they would be stopping (they had already been on the road for eight or nine hours). I started up the bulldozer and quickly rearranged my landfill. Amazingly, I was successful in partially restoring it to its original a suburban residential appearance by the time they arrived. That evening (Friday), we went to a local bar with a 1950s gas-station theme. The next morning we went to the top of the Scotts Bluff National Monument to view the surrounding countryside. The view was beautiful that morning. After we finished there, they continued on their journey to Denver, CO (about 3.5 hours south of here), where they were going to attend a wedding. I can only imagine how much they had to spend on gas at $3.00 and more per gallon.

Below is a view of Gering and the North Platte River Valley (facing southeast) with the morning mist enhancing the sunlight. The famous Chimney Rock is barely visible, standing alone, at the left edge of the hills on the horizon (roughly in the center of the picture. Be sure to click on the picture to enlarge it. • As for that bar we went to last weekend, it is located only about two or three blocks from my house, as the crow flies. In fact, it is visible from the back window. Nonetheless, it is the first time I had ever been there. I might have considered going there in the past, but there is no road that leads directly from here to there (how's that for a valid excuse?). Instead there is a very large field, filled with various obstacles, including the ridiculously over-fenced railroad. I could cut underneath the railroad by going through the large concrete culvert that is also behind the house, but I'm not that desperate to sit by myself in a bar full of strangers. Believe it or not, the driving distance to the bar from my house is over a mile, and maybe even a mile and a half. Talk about a poorly laid-out town.

• I applied last week for the job of 'Reading Curriculum Specialist" with the SD Dept. of Education. In my last entry, I told you that I was considering doing it. I applied entirely online and received an email reply from an actual human being saying that they had received it. I hope I know that into which I could possibly be getting myself (are you happy with that grammatically correct, but utterly weird-sounding sentence, Kathleen? :-). I am not going to hold my breath waiting for them to say, "Hey, you're just what we've been looking for! We can sense the 'mindless, bureaucratic drone' in you all the way from here." I shudder even making a joke like that. I'm usually a bureaucrat's worst nightmare, or at least his/her most annoying daydream.

• The very large "Energizer Kitty" just started talking to me from the countertop eight feet away (I'm sitting in a living-room chair). It is named after the Energizer Bunny because, as a kitten, it always kept going and going and going. It turns out that the meowing was merely a prelude. It is now perched on top of both of my arms as I type this, burrowing its head into the side of my right arm (in the elbow crook), totally still, waiting for me to pet it, and purring like a fanatic. Burrowing its head into my arm is its favorite thing to do. This cat would be annoying if it wasn't so... not annoying. I cannot help but laugh at when it is being so insistent.

• Last night, I drank two glasses (OK, frozen mugs) of red wine. I felt my creativity returning to me very quickly; however, it didn't last long, and all too soon I was yawning every five seconds and trying to stay awake while figuring out what to write in this particular entry. Eventually, I had to give up and wait till morning.

• When I was visiting my relatives in South Dakota in late June, my aunt loaned me a box of several hundred old family photographs dating back to almost 1900 (maybe earlier in a couple of instances). Most of them were taken in the 30s, 40s, 50s and 60s. I really should be organizing and scanning them, but the task is such a huge one that I haven't been able to make myself do it yet. I know that once I start, I will enjoy myself almost too much, which means I will keep going until I burn out; and that burn out will occur before I am even be half finished with the box.

• I was looking forward to getting out on the road more this summer and fall, but those wonderfully high gas prices put an end to those plans.

• Speaking of high gas prices, I need to buy a moped. I could then travel all over the midwest at 30 miles per hour, taking photographs and writing diary entries about my experiences. I could even lobby for paved moped trails to be built alongside highways, and maybe even far away from highways. In fact, I could be the catalyst in a new and far more relaxed tourist industry. I could even go back to my favorite adopted hometown in the world (located in South Dakota of course) and organize the "First Annual Vivian Moped Rally." I can just picture 200,000 moped enthusiasts gathered in the wheat fields around town, drinking, carousing, drinking, um..., what else? Of course there would be violent Los Angeles moped-gangs who terrorize other mopeders, as well as the local populace. Their women would naturally be wearing skimpy leather outfits, or nothing at all. Police could get into low-speed chases on dead-end driveways with some of the more rebellious mopeders. For those of you who have seen one of the most hilarious movies of all time, Dumb and Dumber, you will know why we should get Jim Carrey and Jeff Daniels to host the opening ceremonies. -- OK, enough of that. I've probably given my excellent idea away to some wealthy, unscrupulous diarist or web surfer, who has both the wherewithal and the cash to organize the rally before I can even afford my own moped ;-).

• Have I mentioned here in a previous entry that I have now had high-speed internet since mid-July? The local cable-TV company has been running a deal for the highest of the high-speed packages for $19.99 per month for six months. I couldn't pass that up, although I should have, because now the internet is a bit TOO accessible. That's not good.

• Before I end the "random" part of this entry, I would like to direct your attention to the previous entry. Yes, I posted two of them at once! As I was writing this entry, it occurred to me that I had a topic for another entry. Even though it was completed after this entry, I posted it first because it is easier to refer to it from this entry than it is to refer to this entry from it. Why? Because this is a free-form entry, and that one isn't. Does that make sense? It does to me (and that might be why I'm still single :-).

Music-Title Survey

The following survey requires that the person reply to the questions only with song titles by one artist or band. Of all the artists I could have chosen, I picked Alice Cooper -- not because he is my favorite. He's not (although I really like some of his songs). It's just that I couldn't find anyone else with such a wide variety of useful and entertaining titles.

Once again, I thank my favorite closet sadist for pestering me yet again. I tag everyone who wants to be tagged.

Alice Cooper

Any words in brackets [ ] are my own.

Are you male or female: Wicked Young Man 

Describe yourself: No More Mr. Nice Guy 

How do some people feel about you: Pessi-Mystic [This reply is easily interchangeable with the previous reply and vice versa.]


How do you feel about yourself: 1.) Your Own Worst Enemy 2.) Luney Tune ;-p [It would have been fun to joke with 3.) "I'm the Coolest" ;-p.]


Describe your current significant other: 1.) Might As Well Be On Mars, 2.) Wind Up Toy [NOOO! NOT REALLY!!] :-), 3.) Lost In America, 4.) Woman Of Mass Distraction


Describe where you want to be: 1.) Years Ago, 2.) Going Home, 3.) Lost In America [yes, again], 4.) Sanctuary


Describe what you want to be: What Do You Want From Me?


Describe how you live: 1.) Little By Little, 2.) Bad Place Alone


Describe how you love: 1.) You're My Temptation, 2.) Be With You Awhile, 3.) Long Way To Go [till morning, that is], 4.) Gimme ;-)


Share a few words of wisdom: 1.) Spirits Rebellious 2.) It's The Little Things, 3.) Ain't That Just Like A Woman

Preferred Time-Period Quiz

I also took a very unusual survey that I found on Kathleen's blog, and my results are as follows (I don't know what is with all the question marks; Kathleen's didn't turn out that way):
THE FUTURE Famous Ruler: ?

Living Quarters: Futuristic house?

Hardship: ?

You'd prefer to live in a time that's unknown. You like to live on the edge.

What Time Period Do You Belong In? (Updated!)
brought to you by Quizilla

1899

The following newspaper account was published 106 years ago. In light of the present flooding in New Orleans, I was suddenly reminded of it once again. The article was published in the Springfield Times newspaper of Springfield, South Dakota, and concerns a sudden spring flood on the Missouri River. Springfield sits high above the river and was unaffected, but the farmers who lived in the river valley, many near the tiny village of Bon Homme, were inundated in the middle of the night far more rapidly than they had expected. My great-grandfather and his family (same last name as my own) lived in the river valley near Bon Homme. So, keep an eye out for a familiar name.

Also, as you read, keep in mind that "the bottom" is what they called the land lying in the river valley. Also note that this flood took place some years before my own grandfather was born. Comments in brackets [ ] are my own.

April 20, 1899

The Flood At Bon Homme

A correspondent yesterday sent the following concerning the flood at Bon Homme and the island [also named Bon Homme].

Tuesday morning found the bottom opposite the red bridge all under water 6 feet, and rising 2 feet an hour. J.T. Kountz started across with two skiffs to tender assistance to the families whose houses were in two feet of water and others approaching the mark. Mr. Wadams had all his earthly effects on a knoll by the house, the safest spot in sight.

From there Kountz rowed down to Frank Byrnes', who, with all his cattle and hogs, was waiting proffered assistance, should there be any. From there he went down to Frank [Younameit's farm] and found him and his family stowed away in the garret [attic], and the water slowly reaching them. The roof boards were knocked off, and six children and the mother were handed into the skiff, when all rowed two miles across the big expanse of [flood] water to the main land. [One of the six children was only a one-month-old.]

F. Blachnik and wife and five children, with George Royer's family, were then rowed to Frank Byrnes' house to await the arrival of the gasoline ferry "The Swallow" from Springfield, which Mr. Peter Byrnes had ordered down in charge of Capt. Hutton... Mr. Blachnik remained on a ridge with his horses [surrounded by water]. Jake, the Russian miller, rendered valuable assistance in the rescue with his boat.

...Today the people are turning their attention to Bon Homme Island, which is also submerged with families looking for assistance. They will be hard to reach on the swift current with no really good skiff here.

END OF ARTICLE

Update: In the 1950s, the Army Corps of Engineers began building several dams on the Missouri River in South Dakota. The area affected by the flood in the story above, including my great-grandfather's farm, has been permanently under water since the early 1960s.

Depression or Disillusionment?

When I still had health insurance through my former school employers, I should have bravely gone to the doctor and asked if he (she) had any free samples of anti-depression drugs. He might have given me a big handful of sample packets and possibly gotten me addicted (yeah, I know, that's not how they do it). That might have turned out to be a real profit maker for him. At least I could have known, once and for all, if I really was (am) depressed and just didn't (don't) know it.

All kidding aside, I'm starting to wonder if depression (the kind that I cannot recognize without professional assistance) is at the heart of my inability to figure out what to do with myself career-wise and life-wise. I sort of doubt it, but then it's not always possible to diagnose oneself

Confession

Yes, people, this is a real confession, although it is only a theory. There are many competing theories, and you may note my confusion in some places as I discuss them.

I have to admit that I don't feel any specific or even general depression in the way that I sometimes felt it in high school and college. This depression that I am wondering about may be the type that affects my decision-making abilities in ways that don't resemble depression. It's sort of like when some crazy people are completely incapable of recognizing that they are crazy. :-)

I try very hard not to let my depression (if I really do have it) affect my day-to-day thinking and overall demeanor. I treat it as one would treat a broken toe. It may be unpleasant, but it isn't productive to dwell on it or to complain about it, even if it does stop me from doing certain activities. Furthermore, as a matter of pride, instead of sharing my possible depression with others, I would rather make excuses as to why I'm not "getting on with my life." I don't know why I've changed "policy" in this entry.

It has often occurred to me: Maybe I have become so good at suppressing the depression that I am incapable of recognizing that I still have it (like a person who doesn't realize he cannot see very well until he gets glasses).

This possible depression may even have a lot to do with why I so frequently post vague entries. It's just not something I enjoy discussing, especially since it may not be true (I guess I am a typical guy in this one instance). Yes, I occasionally describe sad experiences in my diary (although I don't consider them sad in a bad way), but those are a far cry from admitting that I might possibly be afflicted with honest-to-goodness depression.

Amateur explanation: In all sincerity, I would like to blame my supposed depression on my total disillusionment with every aspect of American society. I totally despise most of the options our society gives us for work, play and socializing. I've done them to death, and they are just not fulfilling. I am even less interested in discussing the possibility that this "disillusionment" might be a permanent thing (I say disillusionment with "society" because I am not really disillusioned with life itself). Being single doesn't help matters either (don't take my word for it regarding the relationship between being single and being depressed; Google it).

Job Search and Depression

Presently, my possible depression (or disillusionment) seems to be manifesting itself most obviously in my search for a job. In the past year, only two or three jobs have been "good enough" for me to apply for them (I have searched numerous employment listings every day for well over a year). Actually, I have found a number of jobs that I would like to have, but I am "technically" not qualified for them. The rest, well... I feel as if I am looking at all future employment opportunities as if they are competing jail cells, and the one that I choose will be the one in which I am imprisoned for a long time to come. I am supremely hesitant to step into any of those cells and have the door clang shut on me without my being certain that I am willing to stay there for a while. Since I must eventually step into one of them, then I at least want to make sure to pick the one that is the least inhospitable. Why? Well, I may not be able to control this possible depression medically (since I have no insurance right now), but I am certainly not going to make it worse by voluntarily choosing the wrong future for myself (this leads me to another thought: If I choose the right future, I may just cure my theoretical depression without the aid of a prescription drug).

Related-Competing Theories (yes, that's how confused I am)

To some extent, I can also thank my over cautiousness in my job search on my last job (the school job). I desperately wish I had NEVER applied for it. In some ways, it was a good job (the pay was certainly excellent); however, as far as life goes, it was a miserable waste of irreplaceable years. Thanks to the mistake I made in applying for that job, I no longer trust myself when it comes to applying for future jobs. So here I sit, being far too cautious. I'm just glad that I can afford to be cautious (which may also contribute to my slow pace in the job search).

Furthermore, I simply cannot get past the feeling that my next job is going to be one that I will feel compelled to keep for many years to come. Why? Because I cannot continue to "job hop" the way I have been. "Job hopping" is no way to prepare for a secure, long-term future (especially in a country whose economy is quickly being driven into the ground by a disastrously greedy, incompetent president and a disastrously greedy, incompetent congress). Even if I love my theoretical long-term job, I worry that the "adventure of life" (the possibility that there is something exciting and new lying in wait over the next hill) will have finally come to an end. I will have "settled." I will have surrendered to the "reality" that was defined by this society I dislike so much. Now that is depressing.

What All This Is About...

Tonight I saw an opening for a "Reading Curriculum Specialist" with the SD Department of Education. For some reason (probably because I have a degree in English), it seems like a tolerable job, even though it is totally bureaucratic (I totally despise bureaucracy, thanks to my last job). Besides the bureaucratic angle, the only other potential drawback is that the job requires statewide travel two to three days a week, including overnight stays. The travel part does not excite me at all. Why? Before I went to work at the school, I had a sales/delivery job for a grand total of six months. I drove an average of 1,500 miles per week, all over South Dakota, stopping for a total of ten or fifteen minutes at each location. I thought I would really like it when I applied. Instead, it was the worst job I ever had (the school job was heaven by comparison). In fact, I hated it so much that I got a bleeding ulcer for the first and only time in my life. I also suffered all day long from horribly painful nervous stomach aches. Those stomach aches went away as soon as I got off work on Friday afternoon, and they returned as soon as I started work every Tuesday morning at 5:30. For me, that was proof that the job was to blame for my condition.

I've never had a nervous ulcer/stomach ache since I quit that job. I don't know if "road life" in the Reading Curriculum job would be the same as "road life" in my traveling sales job (probably not), but it certainly causes me to hesitate before sending in an application. I guess it's something I need to think about.

Thus I conclude my long, rambling analysis of my possible depression and/or disillusionment with society.

P.S. - Speaking of anti-depression drugs, here's a fun thought: Maybe they could make "Simpsons Chewable Depression Tablets," just like they make "Flintstones Chewable Vitamins." They would be the only depression pills that would cure your depression even before you swallow them. :-)

I Still Cannot Believe It

Parts of the following story were originally written the day after the event took place in July 1983, when I was 22 years old. Its updating at this time was inspired by a diary I read a while back. I don't know why that story inspired me to publish this one, because they are not really all that much alike. But that's OK.

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After four days of hard work building a swimming pool in Rapid City, SD (trying to dig a big hole in solid Black Hills rock with a shovel, or so it seemed to me), I was in a hurry to get home to western Nebraska for an extended Fourth-of-July week-end. As I was leaving headquarters, my employer handed me my paycheck. I decided to stop at my employer's bank to cash it while I was leaving town. By doing so at that particular bank, I figured they couldn't refuse me (I imagined the exchange going something like this: "Do you have an account here, sir?" -- "No, I don't, but my employer sure does." -- "Well, that's good enough for us.").

As I drove to the bank, I remembered that I had still not cashed my previous paycheck either (hard to do when working ten or more hours a day, six days a week). I wasn't so sure they would cash that check, though, because it had been made out on an account from a bank in central South Dakota (where my employer's main headquarters was located, and where I had been living most of that summer).

Several times during the drive to the bank, I almost changed my mind and didn't stop because I didn't want to put up with any possible hassle. But I stopped anyway. Soon, I was standing in a very busy bank trying to decide which teller's line looked the shortest. As I did this, I also looked at each of the tellers to see which one was the most attractive (yeah, yeah, I know, shallow), and I also read each of their name plates. I didn't really get a chance to determine which one was the most attractive because the line at the teller's window nearest to the front door had grown much shorter than the others in a shorter space of time. I was fine with that, because that teller had sort of caught my eye anyway. So I got in that line to wait.

As I slowly approached the window, I looked at the teller and seriously thought to myself, “I should know her.”

The problem is: I have played that "game" with lots of strangers in the crowd over the years. It had become such a routine that I didn't put too much stock in seeing yet "another familiar face." Besides, her familiarity was just “too far gone” for me to try to remember where I might have seen her before, or even if I had seen her before. Her name plate read “Becky,” but that didn't ring any conscious bells.

When I finally arrived at the window, I asked her if she could cash my payroll check since it had been made out through her bank. She asked me if the company I worked for was a local business.

I said, "Yes, it is."

She then instructed me to endorse the check. Before doing so, I also showed her the check that had been made out through the bank in Pierre, South Dakota (pronounced "peer"), and asked her if she could cash it also.

She answered me with a somewhat unusual emphasis in her voice while I endorsed the first check: “Yes, I’m from Pierre."

I simply assumed that was her way of telling me that she had heard of the bank in question. I smiled and continued endorsing my checks; but in that moment certain subconscious thoughts and intuitions entered my mind. They never had a chance to materialize fully, though, because in that same instant, as I was still endorsing, she continued, “You probably won’t remember me, but --”

And in that very instant, all the clues came together, and I did remember. I said with barely subdued excitement, “Oh, I sure do.”

We had been classmates in Pierre in third grade, THIRTEEN YEARS EARLIER! And we had not seen each other since then! In fact, she had been (at least in my very young mind) something resembling my first girl friend. If not that, then she was definitely my first close female friend.

All I could say to her was, “How? I don’t believe it! How could you ever have recognized me?!”

“I recognized you when you walked in.”

I pointed at her nameplate and said, “The second you said that to me, your name -- and Pierre -- flashed through my mind, and I knew.” Then, after a couple of seconds, I added with a smile, “I went with you to your house once, and we played dolls. Didn’t we?” I could almost feel the customers in line behind me smiling.

She smiled at the memory too and nodded her head in affirmation.

From then on, all I could keep saying was, “I don’t believe it!”

I also told her, “People say I don’t even look like I did when I was a senior in high school, and that was only four years ago.”

She said simply and with such a quiet confidence, “I recognized you.”

She then asked what I’d done after third grade. I answered her in one or two sentences because I felt I couldn’t chit chat too much with a long line of people waiting behind me (I was also nervous talking about personal things in front of her bosses in a busy bank). I told her that my family had moved to a small town fifty miles southeast of Pierre in the summer after my third-grade year, and that I had attended fourth through ninth grades there -- then Nebraska. She told me she had moved to Washington state after third grade (I never did think to ask what she was doing back in South Dakota).

I continued repeating how unbelievable it was that she had recognized me.

She kept insisting that I come back and visit her.

I told her that I would definitely do that. And I meant it.

After she had cashed my checks, I left because the bank had been so busy at that moment (par for the course, and very annoying). I had really wanted to stay and visit with her some more, but I had been very nervous in front of all those people. I also felt it would be presumptuous of me to hang around waiting for her to go on break (in my nervous state, it didn't occur to me to ask her). I also didn’t know what her bosses would think of such fraternizing during working hours, so I reluctantly left.

I felt terrible during the long drive to my home in Nebraska. I kept thinking how I might have handled the situation better if only I had not been so flustered and caught off guard (normally, I am the person who recognizes "long-lost" people first). I also knew that I would not be returning to Rapid City in the near future, as my work would require me to return to my home in the central part of the state (three and a half hours east of Rapid City). That meant I would not get a chance to see her in the near future.

The thing that bothered me the most was the fact that I had not thought to see if she was wearing a wedding ring (I didn't want to be "fraternizing" with a married woman, or getting my hopes up if she was married). Nearly as disappointing was the fact that I had forgotten what she looked like as soon as I left the bank. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remember her face.

Sadly, a year would pass before I had a chance to return to Rapid City (doing the same construction work). We were there for a week or two, but, due to our very long work days, I never had an opportunity to return to the bank (and my bosses would never have allowed me time off during working hours). Therefore, my only opportunity came the day after my last day with the swimming-pool company (as I was preparing to return to college after a two-year break). While on my way out of town, I stopped in the bank to see if Becky still worked there. I was very nervous. The teller with whom I spoke said that she would not be in to work for several more hours. I couldn’t wait that long, so, with great reluctance, I departed for Nebraska. A few days later, I enrolled in college. One year later at that college, I met a certain Iranian woman, and my world was turned upside down forevermore. All thoughts of old classmates from grade school were erased from my mind for quite some time. I will always regret that.

Final note: It didn't occur to me until just now, as I rewrite this for Blogger, that I probably gave Becky the wrong impression when I said I was working for a local company. She must have thought I was actually living in Rapid City; therefore, when I never returned to visit her, she must have thought I didn't mean any of the things I had said.

Darn it.

Clarity Is a Closet Sadist

Clarity25 has tagged me yet again! And then she laughed wholeheartedly while apologizing half-heartedly! What's up with that girl?

She will regret asking me the first question. I doubt very many DiaryLanders will be fascinated with it. The rest of the answers, with one exception, are very short. Keep in mind as you read "Ten Years Ago" that I am mostly a pacifist; however, I am totally fascinated with stories of survival against overwhelming odds.


Ten years ago:

Intro:
After stumbling onto some 1940s newspaper stories about a young World War II naval officer from South Dakota (a graduate of Annapolis Naval Academy), I simply had to learn more about him and the 82 men with whom he served. My college study habits would serve me well. These men were all stationed in the doomed Philippines when the war began in December 1941. After being attacked repeatedly for months, American and Filipino forces surrendered in April and May 1942, due to severe starvation. Then began almost four years of humiliation, torture and death in Japanese POW camps and on POW ships.

The young officer from South Dakota was among an incredibly lucky few (50 out of 15,000) to be selected for evacuation aboard one of two seaplanes shortly before the surrender. However, his seaplane was damaged while still behind enemy lines on Mindanao. The passengers were stranded. Most were forced to surrender. He chose not to do so. Instead, he tried to sail 1,500 miles to Australia in a native boat. After going only 200 miles with another officer, they were captured and executed (July 1942). He was only 26. You can barely imagine my disappointment when I learned of his fate (after I had done so much reading and research). I felt as if I had gotten to know this man and his family through those articles. I had been praying for his safe return (although 52 years too late).

Roughly half of the 83 men in the squadron became POWs. About a quarter escaped to Australia. Most of the remainder hid in the jungles of Mindanao and fought as guerrillas until the Americans returned almost three years later. From 1994 through 1996, I wrote and phoned various historical archives around the country; I read a vast number of books and military documents; I made contact with 13 of the surviving veterans of the squadron (man, was it ever hard finding them).

My Point: At about this time in 1995, I found the 89-year-old sister of the South Dakota officer (like finding a needle in the universe). Amazingly, I had lived in the same town of 1,000 people with her in 1994 and had not known it! When I returned to meet her, I discovered that she had Alzheimers. In her only lucid comment, she told me where her son lived. I contacted him, and he gave me the address of the man's only surviving brother. So, in 1995 I hopped on a Greyhound Bus (that LAST TIME I will EVER make that mistake again!!!) and went to San Marcos, CA, a suburb of San Diego, to meet him. He and his wife invited me to stay with them for a few days of research. Coincidentally, the top-ranking enlisted man on the South Dakota officer's boat lived in nearby Coronado. He, too, invited me to stay with him and his wife. I introduced the brother and the former navy man to one another over lunch at an upscale restaurant in Coronado. It soon turned into one of those wonderful moments you only get to see on a PBS documentary. And I had been the instigator of it all! I couldn't believe what I had accomplished.

Regrettably, I soon learned why most published authors are independently wealthy before they write their books. I didn't have the money to continue doing my research, and I was nowhere near the end; so, in order to get the money, I had to go back to work. Once I had a job again, I didn't have the time to do the research anymore; and the vicious cycle began.

Aren't you glad you tagged me, Clarity? :-)

Five years ago:

I had been working for two years as the Network Administrator and Computer Lab Manager at a middle school here in western Nebraska (all Macs, of course). I was soon to be promoted to handling duties at the high school also. I was so busy all the time that I had forgotten what it felt like to be free. I certainly no longer had time for the research mentioned above.

One year ago:

I had just returned to Nebraska from living on that "desolate" ranch in Wyoming. I was still burdened by certain responsibilities pertaining to that ranch (from which DiaryLand was initially my only "escape"). Not long before I had moved to that ranch, severe budget cuts (and a very slimy, sleazy and unbelievably unqualified superintendent) caused me to be laid off from my Network Administrator's job (for which, however, I was secretly grateful). Some day soon, I'll have to tell you what the entire staff of the middle school and half the staff of the high school did regarding that sleazy super's decision...

Yesterday:

Aside from writing my last diary entry, absolutely nothing happened that is worth remembering. I had a headache yesterday morning from having drank those three sixteen-ounce beers the night before without eating any supper (I forgot to eat).

Today: 

Do I really have to answer these embarrassing questions? Among other things, I wrote a long email and am filling out this survey. I am enjoying the gorgeous temperature of 65 degrees (late afternoon) after having suffered through two or more weeks of 100-plus-degree temperatures with minimal air conditioning.

Tomorrow:

I don't have a clue. I should quit being so picky about the sort of job I want, and where I want it to be located, and just take a low-wage affair in this less-than-appealing town. Sounds horrible.

Five snacks I enjoy:

1) Ice cream sprinkled with dry-roasted peanuts and crushed Butterfinger Candy Bar.


2) Peanut butter cookies.


3) Dakota Style Potato Chips, made near Clark, SD (no other potato chip comes close).


4) Excellent homemade hamburger beef jerky (sorry, you vegetarians).


5) Smoked oysters.

Question for Clarity on her 5th snack choice: What if you are a few miles off the Swedish coast and cross a few feet over into Finnish waters. Do the fish there not taste as good? ;-)

Five bands where I know the lyrics to most of their songs:

I don't mean to wiggle out of answering this part (nor do I mean to brag), but I know the lyrics to so many songs by so many groups that I wouldn't know where to begin.

Five things I would do with $100,000,000.00:

My vindictive, justice-driven side is displayed, for all the world to see, in one of these answers. Forgive me, please. I'm only human.
1) Continue the research on the veterans I mentioned above (including doing some heavy research in Washington, DC).


2) Start businesses for people in my home towns in South Dakota (which they would own entirely). I would do this in order to revitalize those towns.


3) Give to family, of course.


4) Give to certain charities, of course (obligatory answer).


5) Offer the historical society in my home county in South Dakota something like $500,000 to $1,000,000...., but ONLY if they remove the name of a fraud from the several-hundred-thousand-dollar granite veterans' memorial in front of their museum (and, NO, I don't mean a veteran's name). Six months before said memorial was built, that fraud visited with me during a big Christmas party in a local restaurant (I didn't know he was a cheating fraud yet). At the time, I was preparing to return to college in Nebraska to begin my student-teaching semester (after being out of school for three years). He asked me if I had any ideas on how the proposed veterans' memorial should look. I thought for a while and drew my favorite design on a napkin and handed it to him. It was a design that I had been doodling all my life. I thought it would accentuate the new giant flag pole very nicely. I went away to college the day after the Christmas dinner. When I returned six months later, the memorial was completed, and there, etched into one of the four $80,000 sections of that granite memorial was that man's name (along with his wife's name) as its designers. That was the day I stopped trusting most people. I told many residents of the county what had happened, and they all said, "We could have warned you about him." I asked, "Then why didn't you!!!??" The members of the historical society pulled a coup a year later and nominated me to replace the fraud as president of the historical society, a position I would normally never have taken (because I hate being a member of anything). It was sort of satisfying watching him squirm very uncomfortably due to my presence in that room, but not satisfying enough. I'm sure he suspected that I had told everyone what he had done.

If the future members of the historical society want my giant donation, then they will take that fraud's name off of the memorial and replace it, some day, with some deserving veterans' name (certainly not my name). If they refuse to take that name off of it, then they can live with the knowledge that they were "this close" to being wealthy and blew it.

After what you've just read, you may be amazed to learn that I don't think about that "theft" most of the time. I only think about it deep in the night sometimes (or after I've visited the museum again). I then begin to worry that no one will know the truth fifty or one hundred years from now, and that really bothers me.

I was there two weeks ago, and completely forgot to take a digital picture of the memorial to replace the one blurry copy I presently have. You can see that blurry copy by clicking here: Veteran's Memorial [The link has been updated.]. It's hard to make out the design, but I try to describe its design below the picture.

Five locations I'd like to run away to:
1. Australia (I've wanted to move there ever since I was a little kid).


2. Greece (I've always loved islands, and the Greek islands are just too perfect).


3. Czech Republic (to do family history research).


4. Italy (Some of my favorite European movies, especially Il Postino, make me want to go to there.


5. Alaska (warmer southern parts).

Five things I like doing:

1. Writing


2. Taking pictures (either for myself, for National Geographic or for Playboy :-) [I'm kidding.] Actually, Playboy models are so coated with makeup and suntan oil that they are totally fake in my opinion; but you get the idea).


3. Sitting on a lonely hill in the middle of nowhere with someone I love.


4. Doing historical research (reconnecting the pieces of a long-forgotten mystery).


5. Darn that Clarity! If I put "sex" here (which I was going to do!), it will look like I am just copying her; if I leave it out, especially now that it has been mentioned by someone else -- her, I will look like a... a... What would I look like? Well, I'm not about to find out, so: Sex.


Five things I'd never wear:

This isn't my sort of section, so I will do the best I can.
1. An earring (well, I guess I wore some at a Halloween party in 1989, which I will forever regret, because it gave one guy the wrong idea about me).


2. baggy gangland jeans (or gangland anything).


3. Men's Olympic-style skimpy swimming suit (I mistakenly bought one of those once; never wore it outside of my bedroom after I saw it on me; how on earth do those swimmers manage to make "themselves" look..., um..., concealed?).


4. a training bra.


5. white gloves.

Five TV shows I like:

1. Desperate Housewives.


2. Grey's Anatomy.


3. The Simpsons.


4. Gilmore Girls (don't give me any grief! It's funny! Or, at least it used to be funny).


5. Everwood (an extremely well done program).

If I were to name shows from a few years ago, the list would be five times as long as it is now.

Five famous people I'd really like to meet:

I'm not into famous people at all.

1. Steven Spielberg (to convince him to produce the World War II story mentioned earlier).


2. Shania Twain (although I don't like country music, I do like one of her songs, and she has a heck of a personality, if I can judge her by her appearance on The Larry King Show a couple of months ago).


3. Jewel (maybe not so much now as I did a couple of years ago; another seemingly great personality).


4. I cannot think of anyone else.

Five biggest joys at the moment:
You cannot be serious! I'll give it my best shot.
1. That I am no longer burdened with certain responsibilities (sort of involving that ranch) that have been alluded to in the past. The sense of "freedom" (for lack of a better word) is just wonderful.

2. That the temperature is bearable for the first time in weeks.

3. That I am actually in constant touch (or the next thing to it) with a bunch of the nicest diarists. Just one year ago, I could never have imagined such a thing. It sort of makes you wish the world was a smaller place.

Five favorite 'toys':

I don't really have favorite things (such as toys) anymore, and I'm not obsessed with the following, but...

1. Both of my computers, Power Mac and PowerBook (really! I'm not obsessed with them).


2. My digital camera.


3. My scanner.


4. My video camera (although I need to upgrade to digital video, so I can take clearer shots of the inside of this sensory deprivation tank that I inhabit).


5. This is a struggle... I'm not much of a materialist, so I give up.

I tag the following and hope they had as much "fun" filling this thing out as I did: katm_6, f-girl, nikib and whereibgin (even though "where's" mind is definitely on other matters right now; maybe this will be a pleasant diversion for her).

In-Depth Analysis of Inebriation

Sunday, July 24, 2005, 11:25 PM, Mountain Time

[There is a 2020 update at the end.]

I just drank three 16-ounce beers, and barely felt a twinge of silliness (still, it was more than the usual twinge, though). That is very annoying.

Luckily, I still have a fraction of that twinge in me as I write this entry.

There are three possible reasons for my immunity to alcohol:

1.) I'm tough as nails. No! Really!
2.) I didn't (yes, past tense) want to be laughed at.
3.) I didn't (yes, past tense) want to get caught.

I think the first choice is probably the correct choice, but the other two are worthy of some consideration.

Not Wanting to Be Laughed At
I never touched alcohol until the summer before my senior year in high school. Until that time, I had not been trying to be a saint. I just didn't hang out with the wrong crowd, and, furthermore, I had had no need or desire for alcohol. As a kid, I seemed to have been still half crocked from whatever moonshine I had drank in my last life on this earth. It didn't take much to entertain me in those days, and I seemed always to be laughing about something (although there were exceptions).

When I finally returned to my old home town in South Dakota the summer before my senior year (a story in itself), I promised myself that I was finally going to become a part of the crowd. I did this for my sake (or rather for the sake of my social life), not because I was caving in to any peer pressure (being incredibly stubborn, I never caved in to peer pressure, and they had long ago given up on trying to pressure me). In late July or early August, someone hired a rock band to entertain us at a keg party (kegger) in an obscure pasture by the creek a few miles west of town. It was an evening straight out of a Hollywood movie. If I remember correctly, I had five beers that evening, and I don't remember feeling drunk. I just remember feeling incredibly athletic and coordinated. I proved it by quickly climbing, hands free, up the corral and some other woodwork leading into the loft of my friends' giant barn. Even though I was a beginning drinker, I didn't have a hangover, or even a minor headache, the next morning. The lack of a hangover probably gave me the wrong idea about drinking to excess.

I drank again two months later (in September) at another kegger in the country (these were major affairs, with people showing up from seemingly everywhere). I drank so much that evening that I bravely, yet staggeringly, went hand in hand with a pretty girl straight into the back seat of my friend's car (with another friend's younger sister in the front seat letting me know how offended she was --- normally I would have cared). This girl had been trying to get my attention for a few weeks and I had not been brave enough to talk to her until I was thoroughly drunk and she was thoroughly drunker. Within three minutes of landing in the back seat, a girlfriend of my female companion knocked on the car window and told her it was time to go. Little did my companion's busybody "chaperone" know, but my companion (her friend) was far more "worldly" than I was. She was rescuing the wrong person. Needless to say, I was a bit unhappy.

Soon thereafter I threw up, and I didn't stop throwing up until about noon the next day. I swore I would never drink again.

Two months later (late November), I attended the girls' basketball team "kegger" (celebrating the end of the basketball season). Since three-fourths of the girls on the team were very appealing, there was no way I was going to miss that one. A number of my classmates, who had never seen me in a drunken condition, and who remembered that I had previously been far too innocent, said loudly, "We want to see 'younameit' drunk!" I happily obliged them. As soon as I had achieved drunkenness, I informed them of that fact, and they were not impressed. They politely pushed me away, not liking my uninhibited silliness.

The liars! The hypocrites!

However, I still had a blast visiting and stumbling around with one or two of the drunken girls on the team (no back seats this time, darn it); but my classmates' snubbing of me, because I was too drunk and silly, bothered me a lot, especially since they had specifically wanted to see me drunk (just not silly).

That night and the next morning, I did the requisite throwing up. What a nightmare it was, having to get up long before dawn to go to my dishwashing job at the local restaurant (all that scalding hot water, dirty, smelly plates, leftover scraps; the smells of frying bacon, sausage, eggs, etc.; I get nauseous just remembering it).

I did not drink again until I attended my high-school graduation party six months later (I had been at the "kegger" after my prom, but I didn't touch the stuff). Another random few of my classmates expressed an interest in seeing me drunk. Once again, I was happy to oblige, and once again I was too silly. As they gently nudged me away from them, they said, "Thaaaat's nice, 'younameit.' Naturally, I got sick again that night, but it was the last time I did so for several years. I had finally learned my lesson about drinking too much.

I had also learned my lesson about showing my drunkenness outwardly. I swore that I would hide my intoxication from everyone from that time on (on those rare occasions that I chose to drink, which was about twice a year during the first half of my college experience). And I did just that. I was quite intoxicated when I did drink, but I was very reserved on the outside.

Side Note: Unexpected Side Effect
There was a totally unexpected side effect of suppressing my drunkenness: My sense of humor increased dramatically. Why? Because my good humor was still in me, only I had become very, very careful about what parts of it I actually spoke out loud, and I thought very carefully about just how to say whatever I wanted to say; and I kept it short). I had not been known for my sense of humor in junior high and high school (except around my cousins), because so many of my classmates had hilarious senses of humor. In fact, one of my best friends was (and still is) easily the funniest person I have ever known (I'm not alone in that assessment). I had always been intimidated by that, figuring I could never compete (although I tried a lot and usually failed miserably).

................ However, I had watched those funny people very closely, and I had been continuously taking mental notes................

After leaving that crowd and settling in a more humorless part of the country (western Nebraska), there was no one to "intimidate" me anymore, humor-wise; so my own sense of humor, aided occasionally by alcohol, had a chance to see the light of day. In fact, the first time I sat and drank with my family (at age 21), I had my parents rolling with laughter while we played "quarters." I had never even tried to be funny around them before, and they had never suspected that I even had a sense of humor. That day probably will always be my funniest day.
-----

Not Wanting to Get Caught
I had first begun tending bar during a brief hiatus from college (age 23). This first bar was located in a tiny town (125 people) in the middle of nowhere in far northwestern South Dakota. Traditionally, the customers in these small-town bars tip the bartender by buying him free drinks while he is on duty. If the tipping continues, then the bartender keeps on drinking. However, at that age, I absolutely did not want to be known as a regular drinker. Instead, I drank only on very special occasions, so I almost always politely refused their tips (which seemed to offend some of them, but, as I say, I'm pretty stubborn when it comes to being my own person).

Shortly after college (age 26), I put my teaching degree to good use by becoming a bartender again. This new bar was located in a small town (about 3,000 people) in Montana. "Drink tipping" was the tradition there, too. Having just recently suffered through that "Iranian Affair," with the loss still being keenly felt, I was a sitting duck for customers who wanted to buy me a drink. I drank their tips and thanked them profusely.

After spending only five months in that small town, I soon moved to Sioux Falls, SD, population of over 100,000, and began tending bar in one of the three nicest restaurant/lounges in town. It was a very high-class establishment. I still don't know what possessed me to go from a small-town dive to a large-town lounge that specialized in all the most "sophisticated" drinks. Drinking on the job there was expressly forbidden. So there was definitely no "drink tipping" allowed. Regrettably, I had still not been cured of my depression, so this no-drinking rule didn't hold much weight with me. On Friday and Saturday nights, when I was hidden in the service bar all alone (where only the waitresses picked up their drink orders), I would occasionally drink secretly. My long experience at hiding my inebriation paid off very nicely there.

You may be wondering if I stole from the inventory. No, I did not. I drank the drinks that were made by mistake. For instance, if a waitress ordered a "Long Island Iced Tea," then said, "No, no! Wait! I'm Sorry! I meant...!" I would sit the mistake down below the counter (instead of dumping it out) and drink it when no one was looking. Three or four such mistakes in an evening made for a pretty pleasant time. And not a single soul had a clue.

How do I know that not a single soul had a clue? Because one day I made up my mind to stop drinking for several months (or however long I had determined was appropriate). One of the waitresses was sincerely baffled when I told her this. She said, "Why, 'younameit'? You hardly ever drink!" Smiling slyly, I said, "Oh, you'd be surprised."

[Another side note: Almost immediately (maybe within five weeks) after I had quit drinking, I lost 10 or more pounds. I didn't even have to reduce my intake of food.]

So, in conclusion (somewhat of an anti-climactic conclusion, since it is now Monday morning), I don't know if I have built up an immunity to drunkenness (I mean the part of it that I feel) because I used to drink a lot (although nowhere near as much as the average person), or if I became so good at hiding my drunkenness from everyone else that I eventually stopped "feeling" the drunkenness myself. Either way, alcohol is a complete waste of time for me anymore. The vast majority of the time, it only makes me feel worse physically rather than better mentally. And it is incredibly unhealthy. All in all, it is disappointing that I no longer have alcohol to rely on as an easy "escape route." This means that it also does not enhance my sense of humor the way it used to, although there is still a trace of silliness left in me ;-).

Sincerely yours,
younameit

Highly recommended reading (along with her previous entry): "Robin Smith: 'Battle of La Belge: part two'.

Update: Thursday, April 23, 2020: It has now been five years and four months, to the day, since I last drank any alcohol. I din't miss it 95 precent of the time. I've been a proponent of supplements for the past 8 or 9 years. Certain ones of them make me feel very much at peace and help me sleep very soundly.

If I Were to Guess...

How many of you have seen an episode in a TV series (no particular series) in which a group of good-hearted kids has an encounter with an angry old recluse, or hermit? Most of you? Good. In such shows, there is always one kid in the group who decides to befriend the hermit in order to show him that the world is really a magical, wonderful place. The hermit only wants to be left alone, but the kid won't give up. Finally the hermit has to surrender to the kid's persistence, mostly because the show is almost over, and the audience needs a neat conclusion to a formulaic plot.

When I was a kid, I always rooted for the kid to teach the hermit a lesson in happiness. As a child (and even in adulthood) I befriended my share of cantankerous elderly people, usually with the same goal in mind. Then one day, when I was in college, I think -- and a bit more experienced on the unpleasantness of life --, I was watching yet another "kid-befriends-angry-hermit" program (obviously a popular plot line in Hollywood). As the naive kid (a girl in this episode) tried to befriend the world weary old hermit, I suddenly had a premonition: "I bet I'm going to be one of those angry old hermits some day. If that turns out to be the case, then there is no way some kid is going to feed me a line about how wonderful the world is. Hermits (the non-insane kind) usually become hermits for very good reasons."

It turns out I was right. Every once in a while, and in spite of my not being a senior citizen yet (thank gosh), the hermit in me struggles to take over. I do my best to resist, but I don't always succeed (living in this town hasn't helped matters, either). For the past few days, I've been in my hermit phase (although not in an angry way), and it is a struggle trying to keep in touch with the world, including all you DiaryLanders and Bloggers. Every once in a while, in both the past and the present, one of you will "drop by" and try to drag me out of my isolation. My instincts are to say, "Shoo!" and "Scat!" but I know it would do no good. :-)

So I guess I will honor katm6's request and try to dredge up something insightful for this entry. By the way, she is new a new reader of my diary, and she found me without any help from me! I also have to thank her for "stopping by in person," so to speak, to check up on me. She is pretty persistent (just like one of the kids in the analogy above :-), pretty entertaining and very kind with her compliments.

OK... So... Ummmmmm... Let's see...

? ?

Well, dang. I can't think of anything to write about.

What was the last exciting thing to happen to me that I haven't already described in detail? Let me think... Well, there was this girl in 8th grade...

Too long ago? Well, not much happens to hermits, you know. :-)

OK, then, what was the last boring thing to happen to me that I haven't already described in detail? Well, there was this... Nah, I couldn't do that to you.

The Truth (not that the above isn't true, too; because it is... mostly)
One of the reasons that you haven't heard from me in a while is because I was in South Dakota for almost two weeks and returned last Friday afternoon (July 8). This time I made the trip to see if I could qualify for a particular job (it will be quite a while before I hear from them). I stayed with relatives for a week and lazed about visiting and talking and visiting -- and drinking too, while talking -- and that was about it. I also collected more old family photographs from one of my aunts to scan into the family history. The last time I was there, she was in the process of moving, so she wasn't able to find all of her photos. After she had finished moving, she found the box that contains the really old photos (some going back to almost 1900 -- one even earlier than that), and I now have them and will soon be scanning them. [Side note: Genealogy is very addictive once you get into it. It requires a lot of detective work (much of it on the internet), which is definitely the fun part. It is fun even when I do it for other people. Some of you might want to give it a try sometime. I think you will be pleasantly surprised.]

After saying good-bye to my relatives, I spent two days in one of my old home towns in central South Dakota visiting an old classmate and his mother (she lives across the street from him -- "Thaaat's right..." :-). Actually, she was sort of a second mother to me for a few months when I was a senior in high school (I'll write about it sometime). It was the first time I had been back there in several years and just missed the town's centennial celebration by one day. Strangely enough, I wasn't in the mood to see anyone else while I was there. This makes me wonder if I have finally lost touch with the "magic" that I used to feel when I lived there, or whenever I visited my friends there in the past. The depressing part is that it didn't depress me to feel that way.

During the final two days of the trip, I stopped in the town here in western Nebraska where I used to work for the school district. A state agency there had purchased a new Macintosh and wanted me to transfer all the files from the old computer (the lady who received the computer is the wife of a teacher who knows me). I thought it would be as easy as it always is, and it was; however, they didn't tell me that it also had to be connected to an ancient network with an ancient server (a server for two computers! talk about overkill). After ten hours of work (requiring an unexpected overnight stay) they are now computing with much greater ease than ever before. I showed them that they could abandon the server completely, as well as a Windows computer that some bureaucrat had mistakenly told them they needed for certain work, but that bureaucrat was completely wrong).

After finally returning home last Friday, I logged onto the internet for a few minutes (I wasn't able to do on a regular basis while visiting my relatives). I was too tired to do very much at that time, though (my car's air conditioning had not worked at all during the entire trip, so I was very, very tired from too much heat). When I tried to log on again later that evening, my internet company had had a malfunction, which they didn't get fixed for three days; therefore, I couldn't even check DiaryLand to see what you people had been up to; nor could I let you know that I had not abandoned you permanently. On Monday, I went to a local non-profit genealogy place (I think I've mentioned it before), where the owner -- a friend -- lets me connect to his wireless network with my PowerBook. Waiting for me was a very nice message from katm6 (mentioned above), in which she informed me that I had been tagged by Clarity25 on July 6. Due my having been away and the internet malfunction at home, I had not known this. Once again, I am amazed. Out of eleventy-hundred people in her favorites, Clarity selected me!

As for my having been tagged with that particular survey: After reading Clarity's and Eric's answers, I am somewhat intimidated. Their answers are excellent and mirror my own in most cases (not the excellent part, just the "gist" part). Eric's comment on patriotism is practically identical to what I would have written, except that he says it so much better and in far fewer words. And to think: He wrote his comments in English! His second language! How can I compare to that?

Now, for that survey:

This isn't the sort of survey at which I normally excel, so I hope you will forgive me if my comments are a bit weak.

1.) Cell phones - I agree completely with Clarity with regard to cell phones; however, I don't want to copy her comments, so I will go in another direction: I got my first cell phone in early 2002. If it had not been for the constant pestering by friends and family who wanted to call me all the time, I would never have done so (then, when I got it, very few of them ever called me). It had been three years since I had last had a telephone of any type. The lack of a phone had been unintentional at first, but then it became incredibly refreshing not to hear that thing ringing all the time (oops, there's some of my hermit tendencies surfacing). I wish I had never gotten it. For the first two years that I had it, it seemed that every call involved bad news. I came to dread hearing the thing ring (even more than I dreaded hearing the regular phone ring back in my "soul mate" days); and I still cringe when I hear that irritating "ring," even though there has been no bad news for quite some time. I just wish someone with whom I would really enjoy visiting would call me sometime.

As for this popular movement to ban people from talking on cell phones in cars, I find that a bit silly. If they ban them, then they should also ban passengers and radios. Just think about it. When a passenger is sitting next to the driver, the driver is not only carrying on a conversation, but he or she is also constantly looking at the passenger during said conversation. Tell me how a cell phone is worse than that. As for radios, how many of us have looked up at the road and wondered how long it had been since we had last paid attention to our driving?

2.) SUV's - Now that gas prices are criminally high, I don't feel even the slightest bit sorry for those people who bought giant vehicles for the shallowest of reasons (or for the mere sake of convenience if they used their kids as an excuse to buy big). They get what they deserve (no offense to any DiaryLanders who bought big ;-). This goes triple for the companies that manufacture these monstrosities (even more so since they've outsourced thousands of jobs to third-world countries). These companies have had ample opportunity in recent years to be mass producing hybrid (gas/electric) vehicles, as well as vehicles that run on other alternative fuels, such as hydrogen (my personal favorite); but they were lazy and greedy and probably in cahoots with the oil companies.

3.) Return to the Eighties - It was in that decade that shallowness, coldness, rudeness [...] became trendy, and it has gotten progressively and dramatically worse since then. In general, though, I don't think of decades in terms of national and international trends or fads. I think of them with regard to my own life and what I would do if I could go back for a "do over." I've been trying for many months to write an entry about a "do over," but it has proven impossible to find the right words.

4.) Patriotism - The following two quotes echo my sentiments for the most part:

"Patriotism is your conviction that this country is superior to all others, because you were born in it." - George Bernard Shaw

"Patriotism. To me, it seems a dreadful indignity to have a soul controlled by geography." - George Santayana

There is another very long editorial, which I may post sometime if I can find out if the copyright has expired (it was published in The Ladies Home Journal -- of all places -- in July 1916). It states the idea of true patriotism better than anything I have ever read before.

5.) Buffy the Vampire Slayer - I've only seen bits and pieces of it, but it was more than enough to say, "Yuck!" every time I see it. What more can I say about it? I have always hated horror movies, so why on earth would I want to watch a show about a teenage girl fighting vampires, and other evil demons?

6.) Reality TV - It is an absolute embarrassment to humanity. It exemplifies the shallowness, coldness and rudeness that has become so trendy since the 80s. Sadly, since that crap is so cheap to produce, and people inexplicably like it so much, it won't be going away anytime soon.

The Greatest Feel-Good Music

Last January, I was trying to write an entry about my favorite feel-good songs of all time. My main goal was to pester all of my readers until they listened to them. The entry seemed very good when I finished it, but then I walked away for a few hours before posting it. When I reread it, I gave a big sigh of relief. I had gotten far too carried away. Furthermore, the structure and point of the entry was a complete mess.

Now Clarity25 has asked for her readers' recommendations for some party songs that she needs to play in her role as a DJ this coming weekend in Germany (where she presently lives). I couldn't have asked for a better excuse to post my list of favorites, as well as a few extras thrown in for the sake of her party. Many of them will work their magic on the crowd, even if they cannot speak English. It's the unrestrained enthusiasm in the music that will come across to the listeners.

The vast majority of these songs are oldies, because I have yet to find any truly "happy" songs in the past ten years (with the exception of three, two of which are not listed here because they probably don't fit the "party" mode). Rap and hip hop ARE NOT happy songs. Even the most light hearted among them reeks of loathing and hatred (at least to my finely tuned ears). Most modern "alternative rock" sounds completely alike and definitely not happy either (unless the definition of "happy" has changed dramatically since I last experienced that emotion long ago :-).

I would ramble on for several more paragraphs in this entry, but since Clarity is nine hours ahead of me, that means the weekend is fast approaching her (it is now 1:20 AM, Wednesday, here in western Nebraska). I'm not even proofing this entry ten times over (which is a scary prospect for me). I hope she will have a chance to listen to as many of these songs as she can, especially those in the first and second sections. She won't regret it. Many of these songs are a bit more unique than the average "party" faire, which is a good thing. They are not all favorites of mine, but most of them are. Comments follow some of them. Some of those comments denote a certain pattern among several groups.

As meaningful entries go, this one ain't. Instead, I am wasting valuable editorial ether on a bunch of silly songs for an American DJ in Deutschland. :-)

Highly, Highly, Highly Recommended
Seven Bridges Road - Eagles (this ones speaks for itself; will it speak to Germans, though?)
Kiss Me - Six Pence None the Richer (naturally)
Mr. Blue Sky - Electric Light Orchestra
Washington Square - The Village Stompers (it builds slowly)
Midnight In Moscow - Kenny Ball & His Jazzmen (much like Washington Square, yet different)
Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White - Perez Prado & His Orchestra
Hooked on a Feeling - Blue Swede (the greatest in silliness)
Frankenstein - Edgar Winter Group (silly hard rock at its best)
Popcorn - Hot Butter (a Dutch group)
Puttin' on the Ritz - Taco (a Dutch singer)
Little Green Bag - George Baker Selection (this one will grow on you)
Wild Thing - The Troggs (ultimate party song)
How Do You Do - Mouth and MacNeal (another Dutch group)
Topsy (Part II) - Cozy Cole (wait for the drums)
How High the Moon - Ferrante & Teicher (added on May 15, 2012)

Highly, Highly Recommended (in no particular order)
You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet - Bachman-Turner Overdrive
Stray Cat Strut - The Stray Cats
Rock This Town - The Stray Cats
Adam Ant - Goody Two Shoes (infectious beat)
Hot Dog - Led Zeppelin
Fox on the Run - Sweet
Ballroom Blitz - Sweet
The Show Must Go On - Three Dog Night
Centerfold - J. Geils BandMy Sharona - The Knack
Video Killed the Radio Star - The Buggles
Another Saturday Night - Cat Stevens
Pipeline - Chantays (infectious beat; amazing video)
In the Summertime - Mungo Jerry
Hot Fun in the Summertime - Sly and the Family Stone
Tush - ZZ Top
Sweet City Woman - The Stampeders (infectious guitar)

Excellent Filler
Music to Watch Girls By - Bob Crewe Generation
Piano Man - Billy Joel (for a break)
The Tide Is High - Blondie
Feels So Good - Chuck Mangione (for a break)
Dueling Banjos - Eric Weisburg (for a unique break)
Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen
Spanish Entomologist - Leo Kottke
Pop Muzik - M
Sausalito Summernight - Diesel (see? here is yet ANOTHER Dutch group! :-)
Is She Really Going Out With Him - Joe Jackson
Mickey - Toni Basil
Safety Dance - Men Without Hats
She Drives Me Crazy - Fine Young Cannibals
Come on Eileen - Dexy's Midnight Runners

I second some of the following suggestions by others:
Wipeout - Surfaris
Jenny (867-5309) - Tommy Tutone
We Will Rock You – We are the Champions - Queen
Play That Funky Music - Wild Cherry
Whip It - Devo
Knock on Wood - Ami Stewart
Cum on Feel the Noize - Quiet Riot
I Love Rock 'n Roll - Joan Jett
Walking on Sunshine - Katrina & The WavesWalk Like an Egyptian - Bangles

Several Surveys in One

I have to thank Clarity25 for providing me with something to post in my diary. I am desperate to post something, and she always seems to find the most interesting "quizzes." I know she was probably dismayed by a certain deeply held opinion I shared recently, but she's a pretty classy person and probably won't remain dismayed for too long.

1) What's your middle name? Jay 2)

School bully you can't forget: There were quite a few obnoxious kids in the schools I attended (between kindergarten and 12th grade), but none that I thought of as bullies. Since I was really never part of the popular crowd (except maybe as a senior), that’s quite a positive endorsement of my home county in South Dakota. The only real bully I ever encountered was an adult who had never grown up (ironically, in my home county). I was an adult at the time, too.

3) Were you prom queen or king? No, but I was chosen as “King of Grub Day” (Halloween) in 8th grade. I tied for that honor with one of my best friends. :-)

4) Pancakes or waffles? No preference. I like both. What’s the difference between them? My absolute favorite is French toast.

5) First celebrity crush? Jane Seymour

6) Make up: Joan Collins or Christie Brinkley? I probably shouldn’t be taking this quiz. Right?

7) Do you now or have you ever owned a pair of Jordache jeans? Do they make those for men?

8) Ever won an athletic competition? A real one? No.

9) New York or San Francisco? Neither.

10) Plaid or paisley? I don’t know what paisley is, but if it is in the same sentence with plaid then, “Yuck!” to both.

11) Can you cook? What's your specialty? Yes, I can cook. A bit of bragging here: For a few months, I was a cook in a café (attached to my dad’s bar) and got compliments from ranchers on how well I cooked their steaks and hamburgers. Cattle ranchers are notorious for wanting their steaks “just so.” Little did they know, I had never cooked much of anything in my life before that time, certainly no steaks, and very few hamburgers either. In fact, I hated steaks at the time and am still not overly fond of them.

My specialty is a certain type of French fries in which the potato is first boiled and then fried to a perfect golden brown. If taken out a minute too early or too late, I consider the batch a failure.

12) Do you shave above the knee? The person who wrote this survey should really try to keep in mind that there are a few men who write at DiaryLand. That being said, I only shave below the knees... ;-)

13) Michael Jackson: disturbed predator or grossly misunderstood? Probably both, but certainly an unbelievably stupid fool who opens himself up to opportunistic con artists.

14) Prominent movie from your childhood? “Gandhi” and one or three others that I cannot think of at the moment.

15) In an ideal world, I would look like... to be able to tolerate a mindless, 9-to-5, boring, unimaginative career.

16) Thank God I do NOT look like... “Reality TV.”

17) My secret passion is... I’ve always worn my passions on my sleeve.

18) My archenemy is... I don’t know if “archenemy” is the right term, but there are two people who come close: The unqualified, incompetent, unintelligent and corrupt superintendent and business manager at the school where I used to work. They have, without the slightest bit of conscience, played with and ruined people’s lives and careers for their own personal pleasure and advancement. In a bigger pond, these two losers would not be tiny fish; they would be plankton.

19) If I had to lose one of my senses it would be... Taste. Nothing tastes that great to me anymore anyway, and I would certainly eat a lot less junk food.

20) This quiz? Is not too easy to flunk.

This survey was snagged from Clarity25.

LAST PERSON WHO...

Slept in your bed: Me :-(

Saw you cry: Probably one of my parents when I was a kid. I am irrationally stubborn about hiding that side of myself.

Made you cry: My Iranian soul mate.

Spent the night at your house: I cannot remember (which probably speaks volumes, doesn’ it?). As for the few girlfriends I’ve had, I mostly spent the nights at their houses.

You went to the mall with: Fellow educators/friends during a technology conference in Omaha, Nebraska.

Yelled at you: My aunt, two and a half months ago, during a scene in which she pretended to kick me out of her house.

Sent you an e-mail: A woman friend who wants my advice on which type of Macintosh laptop to buy for her daughter. This daughter (very beautiful, I might add) will be transferring from the University of Nebraska to Boston University this fall. In between, she will be spending time in London, England.

HAVE YOU EVER...

Said "I love you" and meant it? Absolutely.

Gotten in a fight w/your dog/cat/bird/fish,etc.? Very strange way of phrasing it. That implies they fought back. But the point is moot. I’ve spoiled my cats so badly that they cannot even comprehend the concept of punishment. I was a bit more strict with previous pets.

Been to New York? Yes, but I don’t remember it. I was only four months old and on my way from Heidelberg, Germany, where I was born, to my mom’s old home in Missouri (and eventually back to my dad’s old home in South Dakota).

California? Yes, three times. Twice to the Los Angeles area to visit relatives and once to San Diego (Coronado) to interview a World War II veteran who had been a prisoner of the Japanese.

Hawaii? No

Mexico? No

China? No

Canada? No, but I’ve lived in Montana, which borders Canada.

Danced naked? I may have. If I did, it didn’t stick in my memory.

Dreamed something really crazy and then it happened the next day? I have had vague impressions of such dreams once or twice. In fifth grade, though, I was standing on the sidewalk beside the school building waiting for the bus to arrive to take me home. I thought to myself, “If I jump over that long, narrow puddle of water that borders the sidewalk, I bet that kid standing there will grab my arm and cause me to turn sideways in midair and fall face down in that puddle, getting me wet from head to toe. The odds of it happening exactly like that were practically zero; so I jumped, and it happened exactly like that.

Wish you were the opposite sex? Just long enough to see if what they say about a woman’s “level of pleasure” is true. :-)

Had an imaginary friend? No

RANDOM...

Red or blue? Both, actually.

Spring or fall? Fall, but by a slim margin.

Are you bored? Yes, and for so many years that I am now totally numb to it.

Last noise you heard? Me laughing at my answer to the “opposite sex” question above.

Last time you went out of the state/province: Two and a half months ago.

What book are you reading now? "Love and Sleep” by John Crowley. Regrettably, it doesn’t rise to the level of a literary masterpiece, the way his novel “Little, Big” does (see my profile page). The latter novel has had more influence on my writing style (fiction writing) and view of reality than any has any other novel.

Worst feeling in the world: Being trapped in a life you hate by circumstances beyond your control

What is the first thing you think when you wake in the morning? "Oh, God! Not this consciousness thing again!”

How many rings before you answer the phone? Without caller ID, no more than one ring (I hate ringing phones). With caller ID, no more than two (just long enough for the caller ID to register a name).

Future daughter's name: Christina, Josie, Katie (names of three of my great-great aunts), plus a certain name I discovered since joining DiaryLand. I also like “Rhiannon” (the title of a Stevie Nicks/Fleetwood Mac song), but that might be a bit too strange to give to a kid in this day and age. There was also a beautiful girl in my school with the name “Sateera.” I’ve always loved that name

Future son's name: I don’t know.

Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? No. I doubt I even did this as a child.

If you could have any job you wanted, what would it be? There are several. Historical researcher, private detective (not the fictional kind on TV), photographer/videographer, writer, Macintosh salesman, etc.

Are you a lefty, righty or ambidextrous? Lefty and semi-ambidextrous. I broke my left arm in 6th grade and again in 8th grade. I broke my left thumb in college. I, therefore, had to learn how to write with my right hand on three different occasions.

Do you type with your fingers on the right keys? Yes. When I’m at the top of my game, I can type 40 words per minute.

What's under your bed? Nothing anymore. Just three or four days ago, I traded my bed with the one in the spare bedroom. Prior to that time, there were two or three empty boxes and two others filled with “heirlooms” that somehow were not put back in the closet after a cleaning binge

Location: Western Nebraska.

College plans: Only as a potential employee, never again as a student.

Do you do drugs? No way, although one DiaryLander’s recent experience with a certain “fungi” was somewhat intriguing.

Do you drink? Yes way.

Who is your best friend? No one anymore, and, outside of being single, that is about the most unpleasant part of life for me. As I was growing up, best friends were what life was all about (along with girls). What has happened since then? One of my best friends turned into a college basketball star, and suddenly I wasn’t good enough for him anymore (we had been almost inseparable up to that time). Another best friend married a less-than-stellar woman who doesn’t like me (I think because I always feigned ignorance when her present husband -- my old best friend -- tried to set us up together -- he always did this as a joke). Prior to their marriage, I never knew that he liked her; therefore, I never hesitated to let him know that I did not like her. He never forgot this. In addition, he is scared to death to anger her, so he has basically forgotten me. My last best friend abandoned me just as he had abandoned all of his previous best friends -- without rhyme or reason. I always told him he would probably do it to me too some day, although I didn’t really believe it, and he also denied it (he has a heck of an inferiority complex). The loss of so many best friends can cause a person to think there is something wrong with him. This has made me very hesitant to let anyone else fit the roll of best friend (that female coworker I mentioned in a previous entry would have been an exception). A number of my new friends since then have been really annoyed at me (even offended) because I seldom ever made first contact with them (which is certainly unlike the old me)

Other great friends? Eh?

What kind of shampoo and conditioner do you use? Aussie.

What are you most scared of? Being on the outside, looking in (for the rest of my life), and getting old.

What clothes do you sleep in? Either my underwear, or nothing.

Who is the last person who called you? My cousin “Jill” just a few hours ago.

Who do you really hate? Hate requires too much work and is far too negative, but I have a great animosity toward the superintendent and business manager I mentioned earlier. I refuse to say, even in the most generic terms, who else comes close to being hated, but, suffice it to say, he is solely responsible for the intolerable burden that I endured for the past two and a half years (which finally ended just one month ago).

Favorite number: 13 (just cuz :-).

Are you timely or always late? Always early or else precisely on time (and I don’t even have to try; I just have a heck of an internal clock, as well as a strong “time” ethic; neither of which has helped me in this life, though). Do you have a job? No, but I’m working on it.

Do you like being around people? It depends on who they are. If they are the right people, then they will have a hard time getting rid of me :-). But I hate being in crowds of anonymous people or generic acquaintances.

Best feeling in the world: It’s been so long...

Are you for world peace? Well, duh.

STUFF... Have you ever loved someone you had no chance with? About every other week.

Have you ever cried over something someone of the opposite sex did? Only twice, and the Iranian was the culprit both times; once when she showed a particularly mean-spirited side of herself that I did not know existed and then again a few weeks later, when she left me at the request of her family.

Do you have a "type" of person you always go after? Appearance-wise: I was once told by a Scandinavian blonde coworker (in a somewhat frustrated tone) that I seemed only to be attracted to dark-haired women. Until she said that, I had never thought about it before. And she was right (probably thanks to the Iranian). It is no longer true that I am attracted only to dark-haired women, at least not entirely. Personality-wise: I am attracted to warm-hearted women who have a sincere smile. Pretty generic.

Ever liked a close guy/girlfriend? By this I presume you mean, “Have I ever had feelings for a close girlfriend?” Why, yes I have. She is mentioned in my last entry.

Are you lonely right now? Yep. Perpetually. In fact, I’m even lonely when I am among casual friends, because I want more than casual friendship...

Ever afraid you'll never get married? Yes, with every waking moment.

Do you want to get married? As the friend who married the less-than-stellar woman once said, putting words in my mouth because I couldn’t find them: “You would at least like to have the opportunity to say, ‘No’ to marriage. Right?” To which I replied, “Right!”

Do you want kids? More so in the past than I do now, but the genealogist in me always thinks about it.

FAVORITE...

Room in house: None. I am very tired of this house.

Type(s) of music: Everything but (c)Rap/Hip Hop, country, and pretentious, stereotypical alternative rock.

Song: Far too many, several of which I’ve named in a previous entry, but I am really taken with one I heard on “Grey’s Anotomy” two weeks ago: “David” by Nellie McKay (2003). That show simply has excellent soundtracks. Two reviews of Nellie McKay follow this survey.

Memory: There are so many different kinds of favorite memories, and I have a few scattered here and there, but none stand out above the others at this particular moment. I’ll think about it and get back to you. You are welcome to remind me if I forget.

Day of the week: None in particular.

Color: Blue. I was once told by an 8th-grade girl (in the school where I worked) that I wore too many blue shirts. I had only recently realized that fact myself and was dismayed and embarrassed when she confirmed that it wasn’t the only one who noticed. I wore far less blue after that.

Perfume or cologne: A very, very distinctive and hypnotic perfume, the name of which I do not remember. I’ve only smelled it on two different women in my life, the Iranian and some woman who had just left a room shortly before I entered it (which gave me a start, like you cannot imagine, since I thought I was going to run into the Iranian after having lost her a year or so earlier).

Month: Probably July, because it is the farthest away from school on either side (I took note of this when I was a student and also when I was a school employee, probably more so when I was a school employee).

Season: Summer and Fall

Holiday: None, in particular.

IN THE LAST 48 HOURS, HAVE YOU...

Cried: No

Bought something: No

Gotten sick: No

Sang: No

Said I love you: In absentia.

Wanted to tell someone you loved them: Yes

Met someone new: No

Moved on: I am in perpetual motion.

Had sex with someone: :-(

Had a serious talk: Yes

Missed someone: Yes

Hugged someone: No

Kissed someone: No

Fought with your parents: I had a “spirited disagreement” with my mom.

Dreamed about someone you can't be with: I don’ know. Maybe.

Had a lot of sleep: Yes

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The following rave reviews of Nellie McKay are just two among many at Amazon.com:

April 22, 2004 - Reviewer: A music fan “This kid is utterly amazing. She'd have been a success as a songwriter, a singer, a pianist, a lyricist, or an arranger. As it stands, she's all of that combined. Her piano lounge pieces have been polished and re-arranged for this album. But why on earth is there a clean version? No one interested in her energy, wit, sarcasm, humor, and irony would want to get this. Get the regular (‘explicit!’) version instead.”

April 14, 2004 - Reviewer: Kitchen Guy "BB" (Prior Lake, MN, USA) “Nellie McKay is brilliant. No 19 year old should have this much polish and verve. Her music--all original--is extremely strong and diverse (show tunes to rap), and she sells everything with a brassy gusto that is amazing to behold. I recommend this set to all my friends, and if Nellie sells worldwide the way she's selling in Minnesota, she'll have a long and rewarding career. What a talent!”