Death and Taxes

Today, I wrote out Federal and state tax checks. I've been so busy that I had to file an extension, but I'm sending in my estimated taxes with the the extension. I did a lot less business this year (3 months of vacation and having a social life will do that), so I figured it to be about $1,300. That's in addition to my regular payroll taxes that are automatically withheld, so it really comes out to something much higher. However, I'll stick with $1,300, since that's what I'm sore about.

A 105MM high explosive shell costs approximately 160USD. In a few months, some Iraqi family will be picking up the body parts of their children after a 105MM HE shell comes through the roof. Was it my money? Was it yours? My taxes are paying for 8 shells. Or perhaps 1,300 rounds of 7.62MM match grade rifle ammunition. How about the .50 caliber bullet that takes off some toiling woman's head next July? Did you pay for that? Or was it my money that filled the ammunition crate?

One of the very few things in my past that I regret was going out shooting groundsquirrels with a couple friends. It was on vacation in Montana many years ago, but I still remember a gutshot groundsquirrel running between the stumps, intestines rippling in the grass behind him. I pulled the trigger then, and I wish I hadn't. There was no need, no purpose, no reason.

My taxes are pulling triggers now. And don't even try to tell me they're not, because even if my money goes to feed some struggling single mother in some inner-city ghetto, that $1,300 is money my government doesn't need to spend on that woman, and can spend on bullets instead. Basic economics; money is fungible.

If voting were effective, it would be illegal.

Eminem

Working on code for several days straight alters my frame of mind.

A few weeks ago, I bought Eminem's Curtain Call (used), and I played it, oh, let's see, once. I didn't like it at all. That first song about sticking a gerbil up the ass kinda...got to me. Not that I have anything against ass play necessarily, but that was a little ridiculous.

Well, I played it this afternoon, and it cracked me up. I thought it was hilarious. Along with the rest of the CD. What the heck? That's different! Either I've changed tremendously or the code is getting to me.

I've started liking country, PCD is a favorite, Eminem is funny, and swing is great music. Where O' Where are my musical tastes going? Like I said, this is ridiculous.

I put my A7X hat and sweatshirt on over my Rehoboth Contra shirt, and put on a pair of sunglasses. My brother kinda stared. I looked at myself in the mirror... Holy crap that looks scummy. It's the beard. I look positively dangerous. I like it. Just right for wandering down Smith Street to the Irish pub for Tuesday night jam sessions. :)

The house closing is tentatively set for next Wednesday. Terry will sleep in the new house that night.

Day 3; work, rain, quiet

After I posted the last couple days' posts, my blog was deluged with a large number of visitors. Maryland, Massachusetts, Singapore, all over. Now, not one of those visitors left a message! I'd love to hear what you all have to say.

I worked most of the day today, although Brad and I did go out in the afternoon to a cemetary to walk the dogs. I'll post pictures later (probably tomorrow).

It rained this morning, and an active thunderstorm went through after dark this evening, but the day was pretty quiet otherwise.

Last night, I woke up to sirens. It seems as though the sirens go all night, but it's probably because I'm not used to city living. This time, it seemed as though more and more vehicles kept coming, and then the bullhorns started up. I started freaking out, but then everything quieted down. This little episode illustrated an interesting point; I'm more worried about government thugs than 'criminal' thugs.

Heavy with Humdidy

It rained last night, and now it's quite humid. There's no sun yet, and the temperature is still cool, but I am feeling the heaviness of the air.

I'm not particularly sure about moving down here. The job market is undeniably hot, but do I really want to live and work in D.C.? I would be moving only for the money, which is contrary to what I've done with my life so far. On the other hand, it might be worthwhile to spend a year or two earning enough money to jumpstart a house or investing.

The job market here is insane. Java, .NET, Oracle lead, with PHP, VB, and even COBOL making a showing. Unfortunately for me, I do not have a degree or credentials. Therefore, the initial period working here would be a little rough.

But, for the first time, I see a path up. A BA in Business Administration/Management coupled with a couple good Java and Linux certifications pays off to the tune of $60k to $100k. I've seen some positions advertising even more. My price is $60k.

Funny thing, Providence College offers a continuing ed BA in Business Administration.

Now, Brad isn't going to wait even a few months for me to figure this stuff out. It's either take it or leave it. For now, I think I'm going to leave it. I will ask my advisors, and do some research, but I'm pretty sure about the answer.

Brad's offer to let me stay here is a very good one, but not that good for me, especially considering that I wouldn't be moving here without first securing a job. If I decide to come here at a later date, I'd be making enough money to pay for whatever lodging is available.

And I do need to return home, because I have work commitments I must complete. My family should have my assistance during our upcoming move, as well.

The only thing that could tie me to Providence long-term would be a girlfriend. Heidi is out of my life, and she's probably moving to London in a few months. I guess moving to DC would be an interesting way to move on from the memories.

Day 2: recovery, second impressions.

People go to clubs, and I don't think many go to socialize. Some grab a few drinks and stand around. Some grab a few drinks and jump around like spastic chickens. Some grab a few drinks and make like that song, "We Want Some Puuuussy!" (ech). But the one they're all trying to emulate is that slick dude with the girl draped all over him, doing the bump and grind, who eventually walks out with a big grin and the girl in tow.

Now, I am very well aware of the sexual soul trap. I've been there. I've seen other people write about it. It's not funny. Some of us come back after death and live more lives until we learn enough to move on. Some don't. The pursuit of sex is a soul trap, and you don't come back from that one. I was lucky enough to experience it while living, while I still have a breathing body to anchor me here.

I should clarify that sex in itself is an amazing, beautiful act. Everybody does it, and it's natural and good. God didn't give us hormones and reproductive organs so we could sit around debating the virtues of celibacy.

In some ways, the typical club experience is as close as it's possible to get to the soul trap while in normal consciousness. Everybody comes to get some, and everybody strives for release, but nobody gets it. And those that do are perhaps even worse off. (I understand that some people go "just to dance." That's different.)

So, when all was said and done, when I asked that girl for her number, she gave it to me. Immediately. She'd come with a friend, who was very surprised.

I did it because I was afraid to do it, and I'm tired of being shy and afraid. I'm not looking for sex. I used to, but then I discovered that it really wasn't at all hard to find, and now I'm looking for a partner. Meanwhile, I am honing my skills. I'm afraid I used her, although I probably shouldn't worry about it because I gave her what she went there for (At least, I'm pretty sure I did, judging by the reaction).

I went back home and slept alone (happily), and I haven't called her. But I am somewhat surprised at myself. First for reaching out to her on the dance floor, and then for asking her number before I left. I've changed a lot.

For the wannabes, let me give you a hint; stop trying to get your rocks off. It's about the girl, stupid, not you.

Anyway.

I rolled out of bed very late this morning. Brad, two of his tenants, and I went down to Chinatown for lunch, and ended up eating an excellent meal at a new Thai restaurant. Afterwards, we walked down to the Capitol Mall, through the National Gardens (indoors), past the Capitol, and then home.

I was left with a very negative impression of the Capitol. It reminded me quite strongly of the People's Palace in Bucharest. A different flavor, perhaps, but the same grandeur coupled with spirtual poverty. The place is somewhat dirty, but the whole energy is very oppressive. It's not cold or dead, but instead actively unpleasant. I find this strange, because the surrounding neighborhoods are decent, clean, and bright.

It's a bit strange being a racial minority.

It might be a good idea to mention that I'm taking a vacation in Washington D.C. right now, so as to put this post and the previous post in perspective. I took the regional service Amtrak train down yesterday, and I'm taking an overnight back Tuesday night.

Top40

Last night, I went out with a friend to a couple Top40 dance clubs.

I have changed so incredibly much since the last time I went to a place like that. It was in late July, in Dublin, Ireland, and I was basically a wallflower. I danced like nobody's business, but by myself.

This time, it was quite different. No more of that modest, respectful crap. Dance already! I didn't do anything stupid, but it did illustrate rather strongly how much I've changed.

It's a pretty powerful high to have a woman want you.

The Sounds of Spring

I walked out of work this evening and heard peepers for the first time this spring. At home, the small frogs are chorusing in earnest. Flowers are springing, birds are singing, and spring seems to be starting in earnest. 65 degrees and sunny!

Unfortunately, silver closed at 11.195. That's diseased. What the hell is going on?? They're cleaning out the market in fine style.

Movie: Inside Man

The movie rocks. Moral thieves, corrupt businessmen, the works. Wonderful movie.

Favorite quote, "Can I see your shoe?"

Mr. Handsome

I went out contra dancing tonight at Goff Hall, and had a wonderful time. My family had dinner early, but we ended up talking until almost 10 o'clock. Being that late, I almost didn't go. However, I went anyway, paid my $6, and started dancing.

This is the first time I've gone contra dancing in my new dance shoes. I didn't really like it, because I can't seem to feel the floor at all. I guess it depends what I'm there for. If Nightingale or Groovemongers are playing, the shoes come off and I dance barefoot. If it's the normal music, then I think I'll wear the shoes and dance for the social aspect; namely, girls.

One long-time male dancer grabbed his partner's place and swung as the 'woman' with me. There was a time when that would have bothered me greatly. But, that changed. Does that make me gay? Nope. Just having fun. I am sure of myself and my path.

I got several positive comments on the beard, which was fun. With my hair parted differently, it dramatically changes my appearance. That, and whenever I look in the mirror, I make a point to say, "damn, you're hot!" which of course makes it true.

Nothing like catching a pretty girl's eye and getting a nod and smile to boost the ego. It's a little game. They glance, I'm watching, I look and smile, they look again, smile back, and bam! instant rush! Those ancient patterns are wired deep. I used to feel embarassed about it, but I got rid of that a couple months back. Why be embarassed about being human and young?

Damn, I'm hot!

(Although I wish I had a partner to share my life with, who would dance and laugh with me, and catch my eye and smile back. Soon enough...)