Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Page 5

Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Volume 16

So I noticed something when my alarm went off this morning – the sky appears noticeably darker when I wake up. This morning, it immediately brought to mind that it was August 1st. August 1st was a significant annual event in my youth as it was the day the AM radio station in town signed off at 8:30 instead of 9:00. Sharing a channel with a ‘clear channel’ radio station in another country, it was only allowed to be on the air from dawn until dusk. Most every evening in the summer, you’re sitting their listening to the ball game and suddenly the announcement of ‘this concludes our broadcast day’. My understanding is that these days, the station is allowed to broadcast at night at greatly reduced power, but is playing Southern Gospel Music.

Why listen to AM radio growing up? It was almost a necessary evil. I lived less than a mile from 50,000 watt FM station that played… wait for it… elevator music. ‘Beautiful music’ is what they called it. ‘Hell’ is what I called it. Just about everywhere on the dial… e v e r y w h e r e… you heard this station playing instrumental after instrumental designed to put anyone under the age of thirty into a coma. Those above 30, like my parents? They sang along. Imagine, if you will, being a thirteen-year-old kid lying in bed with the knowledge that the snow was piling up outside and desperately wanting to know if school was on the next day and having to endure the agony of ‘beautiful music’ while doing so. It almost wasn’t worth it. There was a reason growing up that I continually stated that I was in the ‘<radio station call letters> Death Z0ne’.

Living where I did growing up, our idea of fun, once we reached driving age, was driving somewhere we could listen to some decent music. A mere mile away from my house, you could start hearing pop music stations, but that isn’t necessary what I was looking for. Being in an area that was quite rural, country stations abounded, but I never have and never will develop a liking for that crap – Rock and Roll was what we were looking for. Evenings like those involved finding a secluded spot on the top of the hill where we could sit in the car and listen to a station sixty miles away for an hour or two. As we grew older and bolder and more able to secure ‘adult beverages’ we located a hill twenty miles away where we could listen to radio from the big city eighty miles away while drinking ourselves into a semi-stupor. That was the saying in my home town: ‘There’s only two things to do in down – drink and <blank>.’ You can probably fill in the blank.

For the record, I grew up with three television stations… four if you count a really fuzzy one. When my kids tell me they are bored, I absolutely have to laugh.

I recently went back to my little town. The Rock and Roll station I listened to growing up can now be heard quite well most everywhere in town. The ‘beautiful music’ station cleaned up their signal and changed to rock and roll shortly after I moved away, but has now joined the legion of country stations in the area. All of this matters not today – you can listen to anything you want at anytime you want courtesy of mp3s and the internet.

Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Volume 15

Yup, changed my colors because I can. White was getting to be a little much on the eyes.

From the comments department…

I was just looking at your Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Volume 11 – The Life of C.L. Boss website and see that your site has the potential to become very popular.

Wow! You don’t say? Tell me more…

Now, let me ask you… Do you need your site to be successful to maintain your way of life?

Now there is where you lost me. You apparently can’t be that big of a fan – I’ve already said that this blog is a money-losing proposition. I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that if I get tangled up with what you have to offer, it will make it even more so. Try again.

Work this week involved attendance at the local county fair for a couple of days. While I was all about the fair in my youth, it’s not necessarily my idea of a good time anymore. The last time I actually paid to go to the county fair, my five-year-old daughter coerced me into going on the ‘pink ride’. I consider it to be a miracle that neither of us lost our lunch in the middle of the midway as a result. That daughter is now seventeen. Fortunately for me, my time was spent not doing a whole lot of anything while sitting in an air conditioned vehicle far away from any rides.

While I started this blurb ready to make the claim that I consumed no ‘fair food’ while there, I must admit to consuming some kettle corn. I like me some kettle corn – sweet, salty, crunchy, and full of fiber. The other two food items I consumed can be bought at local restaurants and do not include the word ‘fried’ so they don’t count… do they?

I was once convinced by someone not to eat a fried Twinkie. I was pretty sore about that missed opportunity for the longest time. Two years running I have had the opportunity to right that wrong. Two years running I have passed. Consuming fried snack cakes is a young man’s occupation – I’m not one of those any more.

Here’s a little factoid about C.L. for you – I once made the second best bread exhibited at the fair in the rural county that I lived in. My reward was a nice purple rosette and a small cash prize in addition to bragging right thirty years late. My only blemish – I baked on a very humid day and had a few too many bubbles in my bread. At various times in my life I’ve made bread, but these days bread is carbs and carbs are bad. I’ve finally gotten over this disappointment. My daughters, however, have not.

You only need four ingredients to make bread: water, flour, yeast (in some form or fashion), and salt. You can not believe what you are able to do with those four things with just a little bit of practice.

One of the great tragedies of my life is that I had no idea what the difference was between margarine and butter until I was well into my twenties. I thought they were the same thing. They are, I can assure you, not the same thing. My family was a margarine family – we had copious amounts of the little containers to prove it. When I discovered the awesome goodness that was butter, it was an epiphinal moment. Only on the rarest of occasions has margarine ever graced my house since then.

I want to apologize to you, dear reader, as well as my junior English teacher for the large amount of passive verbs that have been used (see, there’s another one… and yet another one) in the writing of this blog entry. It took quite awhile for the world to convince me that passive verbs are (damn it!) evil, but I now comprehend how they lead to dull writing. Perhaps I now have…. er… never mind.

Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Volume 14

I had one of my fans reach out to me today and ask me why I haven’t been writing in my blog lately, but it wasn’t as much what she said as how she said it. May I offer a heartfelt ‘thank you’ to Ms. Boss for her encouragement.

Another fan offered additional piece of advice in a comment on Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Volume 7. It reads as follows:

It’s hard to locate knowledgeable people on this matter, but you sound like you know what you’re talking about! Thanks

So there you have it folks, straight from user ‘darkness reborn hack free’ – I’m knowledgeable AND I know what I’m talking about, especially when it comes to random semicoherent thoughts. As someone famous once said…

You can always believe everything you read on the internet. – Abraham Lincoln

We need to get caught up on some ‘goings on’ since I haven’t published any of my natterings for the last month. Here’s a highlight – I marched in a Gay Pride parade last month, I even held the sign for the group I was marching with. Yes, you remember correctly, there is a ‘Ms. Boss’ in my life. No, while I’m not the most machismo man in the world, I’m not gay. Why did I do this? It’s simple, someone I care for asked me to. You know what? It was a lot of fun. I’m absolutely willing to do it again.

Not thrilled with either ‘the Donald’ or ‘crooked Hillary’? There is an alternative – https://www.johnsonweld.com.

Even before I knew much about soccer, I’ve wanted to attend an English soccer match – there’s something about the atmosphere that I’ve always seen in highlights from those games. I got half a chance a week ago when I saw and English Premiere League team take on my local team. It’s definitely on the bucket list now.

When I say I didn’t know much about soccer, here’s kind of what I mean – my rural high school did not have a soccer team until I was a senior. Reason? Soccer was something that Communists played, real men played football. Yes, I was a ‘real man’ and did what I was supposed to do, but looking back twenty-five years, I wish I would have had the alternative.

August is rapidly approaching and hot, humid weather brings back memories of ‘two-a-days’. For those who aren’t privy to the term, a ‘two-a-day’ is a high school football practice where you work your ass off for two hours, enter a vegetative state for about two hours to recover, then work your ass off again for another two hours. Despite drinking a gallon of fluid, it was not uncommon to lose five pounds by the end of the day. It was difficult, but I do look back on the fact that I survived it with pride.

I played football from seventh-grade to twelfth-grade. I wasn’t very good – while the letter I got when I was a senior wasn’t a ‘gimme’, I didn’t have the required amount of quarters played until my last game. I enjoyed playing in the games and some of the fringe benefits of being a football player in a small town, but I didn’t much care for practice or, truthfully, being near the ‘jock culture’. If I knew then what I know now, I might have been a better player, but I also might not have played football at all.

In some ways, I think football is dying in this country as due a number of factors – sociological, physiological, technological among others. I was a fan growing up, but if I watch sports in the fall these days, its more likely to be something else. Disagree? This page has a comments section – use it.

Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Voume 13

It’s been awhile. I’ve been busy.

I really feel that I should say something about the Orlando shootings, but I just don’t know what to say that would be meaningful.

I’ m a straight guy and I marched in a gay pride parade last weekend because I was asked to. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

I don’t understand homosexuality. The thought of being intimate with a man just really doesn’t do it for me. I do, however, know a thing or two about love. If two men love one another and their being together makes them happy, why should I care or interfere? Just because I don’t understand something, doesn’t mean I should condemn it.

Why are Christians so quick to condemn Muslims as a whole for the actions of a few radicals? I seem to recall someone saying something about sin and casting stones…

I don’t understand guns. I even work in an environment where guns are a large part of the culture – the majority of my coworkers have assault rifles. I shot a few beers cans in my younger years and it didn’t do much for me. However, much like homosexuality (brace yourself for an awkward statement), just because I don’t understand it, doesn’t mean I condemn it.

I do understand media. They make a profit out of other people’s misery. I will condemn that. Unfortunately, they are a necessary evil.

Here’s something that annoys me. My work exposes me to many things that make the news. Time and time again, I see them get the facts wrong. Yet when they cover something I don’t know about, I accept it as the gospel truth. Seriously?

Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Volume 12

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted. I was on vacation last week and largely took a break from electronics. I actually let my phone die several times while I was gone and really didn’t care. That’s highly unusual for me. I kind of enjoyed it. To the loyal non-robot readers, my humblest apologies.

I love reading, I always have. I’ll read to distraction if you’ll let me. In fifth grade, my science teacher made a habit of coming up and slamming a ruler on my desk when I had my nose in a book rather than paying attention in class. I’m somewhat ‘reformed’ today. I don’t read books that often anymore and when I do, they’re nonfiction and too interesting that I won’t be bothered when I put them down. The one time I will read is on vacation. I figure I’m entitled to the down time.

I read two books over vacation. The first was The Zimzum of Love by Kristen and Rob Bell. This was a recommendation by Ms. Boss. It was the right book at the right time. My takeaway from the book? The space between you and your spouse is sacred and must be protected in order for ‘zimzum’ to occur. The second book was Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig. I will say it was a tough read, but it’s one of those books that you keep coming back to in your mind once you’ve finished with it. I’m still learning some of the lessons from the book, but the biggest takeaway is this – the attitude that you take when starting an endeavor will be reflected in the outcome once the project is completed.

The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawethorne absolutely rocked my world. Up until that point – junior year in high school – I was so Pollyannaish it never crossed my mind that the minister could be a bad guy.

I’m going to be slightly vulnerable here, while I’ve stated that I like reading, I’ve not been the best at understanding what I read. Now it’s not because I’m stupid, I’m literally a Mensa-candidate (a score I’ve taken on a standardized test qualifies me for membership). It just seems that I don’t always comprehend. I hated – HATED – literature classes in high school and college because people would glean things from them that I just couldn’t see. I rarely read all the assigned material in college because it seemed pointless. I was a terminal ‘B’ student merely from the fact I showed up for every class. I didn’t become the lawyer I always was supposed to be growing up because I sucked at case review in undergrad. It certainly has been frustrating. I’m sure this means something to someone.

Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Volume 11

I’ve had a Fitbit for awhile (it was supposed to be a gift for someone else, but they already had one) but finally started wearing it this week. I thought it wouldn’t be much use to me since I exercise regularly already. As they say in Congress, ‘I would like permission to revise and extend my remarks.’ A Fitbit generates data and if you are one of the few humans that read my blog regularly, you know I LOVE data. I have a pretty sedentary job most of the time, but I had no idea how much I… err.. sat on my ass. The data has done a fantastic job of getting me up and moving while the diet portion of the app clues me in to just how much I consume in a day. It doesn’t hurt that I’m now in competition with my workmates.

I managed to get two of my four daughters to play sports. My youngest is a go-getter. The other, one of the twins, is in it for the social aspects. It can be quite frustrating at times to watch. Strangely enough, what frustrates me isn’t seeing what they are doing wrong or could do better on the field, it’s that I made the same kinds of mistakes when I was there age and know much better now that I can’t do anything about them.

Summer vacation starts this week for my crew. I’m already saying what my father said as I’m sure his father said before him. They have no idea how good they have it, when I was their age, I worked my ass off all summer.

Here’s a strange fact – I know how to play bridge. I’m not that good at it, but I know the basics and can play a few hands. My mother, who died when I was thirteen, loved to play bridge and often had impromptu games in addition to her regular bridge group. When a wave a nausea hit (she had cancer), I was often called upon to sit in and play. I looked into the possibility of joining a bridge club, but there’s one problem – they’re all during the day at senior centers. It seems that no one less than sixty-five years of age plays anymore. It’s been almost a year-and-a-half since I’ve played. I’m actually kind of sad about that.

Speaking of cards, it’s a dying pastime. I played all kinds of cards when I was young – it’s what we did during the summer instead of work. We played Gin, Rummy, Hearts, all manners of Solitaire, and a game called Hi-Lo. When I wasn’t playing poker during college, I was playing euchre. That’s mostly gone now that the internet is here. My girls will play a game called Nerts, but it’s more of a game of reflex than one of skill. I tried to teach them euchre at one point, but there just wasn’t any interest.

Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Volume 10

C.L. Boss is now active in the Twitterverse: @therealclboss. The goal here is to garner at least as many followers as Justin Bieber by either tweeting deep, meaningful statements or pictures of the roast beef sandwich I eat every Friday. As of this writing, I am very happy to announce that I’m only a few million followers away. You should follow me today before I get super ultrafamous.

All kidding aside, I hope that Twitter will bring a few people strolling by my website. I’m told by my stats that the Googlebot is my most frequent visitor.

I’ve made a few other minor changes to the site – I could only go full generic for so long.

I had the pleasure of shopping with Ms. Boss over the weekend. It was relatively short (and therefore relatively painless) until it came time to pay for everything. I swear sometimes, checking out at some of these department stores is more complicated than buying a car. Do you have shopper’s card? Do you have coupons? Do you have any rewards? I can take an additional ten percent off if you this? You can come back and use this certificate if you need something next. Enough already! Why can’t things be as simple as giving me the best price and leave it at that?

Two years ago, I wandered out of the iOS universe and into Android. It was a happy relationship at first – I got a bigger screen and unfettered access to things in the backend. I was actually quite smug about the whole thing. Two years later, I’m ready to go back. It has been a tedious two or three months trying to upgrade my phone to the latest software with the final solution being a factory reset followed by a restore that went nowhere near what was planned. One of the most aggravating experiences, dealing with a new auto-correct dictionary that needs to completely relearn how I write.

There is more content coming – a poem if you must know. It needs a few more revisions before posting. I’m looking forward to it.

Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Volume 9

So is this how it happens? A slow dwindle in writing production until it becomes less than a trickle? What charged out of the gate slowly losing steam? Have I mentioned before that I have too many hobbies? I’ll tell what’s happened to almost all of them – life. Hobbies and interests get intertwined into life and eventually get shoved aside as all the other wants and needs of modern life move towards the front. Oh well. Even it almost dies out, it will still be there if I ever want to go back to it.

Mother’s Day was celebrated in fine style at the Boss household. An ‘omelet to order’ breakfast with gluten free scones (tasty, even to this longtime bread lover) followed by the traditional planting of flowers and yard work. Dinner of grilled vegetables was cancelled by Ms. Boss in lieu of the Boss Family staple – Sunday Night Nacho Night. A course of Raw Vegan Cheesecake (cashews provided the body while lemon provides the tang) rounded out the evening. Ms. Boss proclaimed it to be one her favorite Mother’s Days. I’m glad. When she’s happy, I’m happy.

I am giving serious consideration to driving eleven hours to a small town in Ontario and running a half marathon in a kilt to win a wooden spoon. Why? Just because. It doesn’t look to be this year, but it might have just made my bucket list.

I just learned how to make goetta properly. I’ve been trying to accomplish this particular feat off and on for almost twenty years. The key? Thin slices and taking the time to make sure it’s properly brown. What’s goetta? Questions like are the raison d’etre for the internet.

Looking up words like ‘raison d’etre’ are another reason why the internet exists.

I actually wrote in my personal journal for the first time in over two months the other day. It was nice to reacquainted. This particular journal has a bit of quirk to it – it’s kept somewhere other than my house, a private place that visit every once in awhile. In a way, it’s almost a perfect situation. Journals at home quickly get forgotten, but it is an ingrained habit to write anytime I visit the place where it’s kept. It’s pretty much an obligation to write anytime I visit – kind of like visiting your best friend when your in town.

At the risk of being a hypocrite, journals are important. My mother, who died when I was thirteen, kept a journal for a few months during her life. I was able to read it a few years ago. It was absolutely mind-blowing how germane and poignant it was to what was going in my life. You don’t see the struggle of your parents when your little and even if you do, you don’t always understand. It was a snapshot back in time that basically let me know that I wasn’t alone. In much the same vein, I had the opportunity to read some letters that my father sent to my grandmother when he was in his twenties. It was much the same thing. Again, at the risk of being a hypocrite, write a journal and leave if for your kids once your gone. Let them know that you struggled with many of the things that they will struggle with when they become your age. Perhaps one day it will help them not feel quite as alone as they do. I know what a small snapshot into my parent’s life did for me.

For the record, I believe it’s safe to assume my parents never struggled with writing a blog.

Have I told my wife I love her lately? I believe I just did.

Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Volume 8

The half marathon is in the books. How did I do? If the race would have been eight miles long, I would have been very happy with my efforts. I ran the first seven miles with Ms. Boss who set a pace that was right where I wanted to be for the first six miles. Mile seven was the second worst mile of the race for me, but it was also all uphill so I won’t grouse about that at all. I will admit that I was on an emotional high after having saw Ms. Boss to the finish of her race (congratulations, my dear, for running your longest distance and beating your goal time) and my time was great for mile eight despite running uphill the entire time. Beginning in mile nine, however, all the people I passed uphill started passing me downhill – I was gassed. The strange thing is that it was my upper body that was hurting, not my legs. The closer I got to the finish, the more I walked to the point that mile thirteen – which is entirely downhill – was the slowest of the race for me. Down the stretch the pacer for 2:45 passed me and I could do nothing to keep up. I crossed the line at 2:48, eighteen minutes off my goal pace. Still, I finished and got the metal and proved the last time wasn’t entirely a fluke. I think I can do better…

Despite my previous statement, today is my third day without exercise in a row. Monday was a planned rest day but when soreness extended to Tuesday, I took that one off too. Today’s excuse? I’ve got a couple, but laziness is probably chief among them. I’ll definitely get back on the stick tomorrow.

As the one or two of you who may read this blog may have noticed, writing output has waned. This past weekend was full of activities in addition to the half marathon so there wasn’t a lot of spare time. End-of-the-school-year activities as well as spring soccer are in full gear so I have been a busy guy. To tell you the truth, I should really be in bed now seeing as I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a week, but blogging, like exercise, must be done on a regular basis to be effective.

After two weeks of no incidents, Ozzy has pooped in the house twice this week. At least he doesn’t have diarrhea anymore.

Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Volume 7

So, what I anticipate would happen has finally happened my site has been hit with spam. Apparently, my ‘Hello World!’ merited two posts one was unintelligible gibberish about certificates and the other listed ingredients for Nigerian food. Oh well, at least it’s proof my page is slowly finding its way around the web. Spam filters going on in three… two… one…

If you were (hypothetically) given a take home car by your employer in exchange for services rendered and that car was (hypothetically) taken away from you, would you be pissed? (Hypothetically) I would be too.

Note to self – next time around, negotiate better terms for your employment and get them in writing.

Photos. I need more photos on the blog. I’ve found some lovely dogwood blooms in the neighborhood, and have yet to snap a pic. I’m going to run myself out of time.

More poetry is also needed.

If I keep writing about the failings of this blog to produce meaningful content, even the Nigerians are going to lose interest.

I heard on the news today that six BangladeshI bloggers have been killed recently over the comments or content of their blogs. My first reaction was a snarky comment regarding how writing this blog may put me in mortal danger, but I quickly had to reproach myself. No one should make light of someone’s death when they are killed for expressing themselves.

An occupational hazard of certain jobs that I’ve held in the past are cycicism, callousness, and a penchant for gallows humor. My past writings have been filled with all these. I endeavored to get away from that in this forum. I still have work to do.

Billboard spotted today: you can’t hold your nose and hum. I tried it. You can’t.

As much as I tried to prove otherwise today, sausage gravy and biscuits for lunch are not compatible with my fitness goals nor are they conducive to a productive afternoon. Fortunately, I was the passenger on a two-hour drive – one of the rare instances where sleeping on the clock is permissible.

I’m not afraid of death. I don’t want to hasten it along by any means, but I’m not afraid of it. It will be just like falling asleep and never waking up.

On that deep and philosophical note, I must bring this post to an end. The battery on my phone is about to die. It’ll be just like falling asleep and…