OK – did you know you can actually do quite a bit of stuff with electricity and electrical ’stuff’ without turning off the electricity?  Really – just a matter of not touching too much stuff at the same time. Easy right? Black is hot, white is neutral, green is ground.

For instance, the project I had been planing was to replace two outlets, switch from two prong to three. Easy. Remove the old one. Add a ground wire by screwing into the metal box. Replace black and white wires, one at a time, being careful to not grab  both sides of the new outlet by the black and white wires. EASY!

Well, mostly easy. Old, solid copper wire can be kinda stiff. Trying to maneuver them to the places you want – the terminals on the sides of the new receptacle can be especially hard when you buy a low-cost (cheap ass piece of crap) receptacle.  Then you have to hold the damn thing, twist a bit so as to apply pressure to hold the bare end of the wire where you want it while attempting to screw in the screw that is to hold it in place.

This sounds so freaking EASY! And most often is. Unless, just as you think you have the screw tight enough, the bare end pops out since the cheap ass part you have is not doing its job. You forget a bit about where your fingers are as you try to re-maneuver the loose wire into place again. One finger is touching the white wire on the other side. Then, anther finger touches a black wire – completing the circuit and – shocking the same fingers just mentioned.

I did this four times, lightly. That is, small, light short shocks that only served to remind me I was being foolish and to pay more attention. I am quite surprised it did not work well enough to keep me from the two really not too light shocks. The kind that make you say, holy crap, no wonder this crap kills some people!  Electricity is freaking dangerous!

The other scary dangerous part came when I had to push that low-end piece of electrical equipment back in its hole. One of the old solid core wires decided to break. Barring its solid self enough to touch on the metal box it normally lives in.  There was this sound, like something from a Frankenstein film. BIZZZEPT!!  Along with large sparks and the smell of melted wire insulation.  Nice addition to an already long and bothersome process.

Finally, some stupid amount of time later the damn thing was in and whatever I plugged into it worked. So – at least that part was good.  I put the other low-end receptacle in a drawer. I went and got one for about three times the cost of the first one, still under five bucks.  In less than fifteen minutes, with no shocks light or large, no sparks or smells, it was in and whatever I plugged into it worked.

So – did I learn to turn the power off to safely work on electrical items? No. I did learn that saving two-fiddy is just not worth the pain and aggravation sometimes. A damn good lesson yet still, I learned something not quite as obvious as you might think.

Shocking!

A V

The made plans and all that amazing literature that followed leave me with nothing more than a heavy sigh and some freakish fears and concern.  Why? Oh my am I glad you asked!

You see, nothing about the tale has anything to do with this post or why I feel fear. It is however appropriate since my plan for the day failed on such a scale as to make me both laugh and nearly cry. How could something this easy be so freaking hard?

The this to which I refer is adding a wireless modem to an old, slow PC so I can achieve internet access at my new domicile. The room I am renting does not have cable. The entire place does not actually. Dish TV and DSL internet.

Easy right? Put in the disc and follow the instructions. Hmm. That’s funny. Not only does it not work, the process seems to have rat-fucked the would be host machine as well. Now, not only do I have two computers that cannot access the internet, my gracious host has two too that do the same not connecting.  Already very happy at taking my unemployed broke ass in, I can tell.

Being much more savy than I, I abandon ship to allow quite work and unabashed cursing of me. And also to come continue packing and prepping to be out of this place in two days.

While I am doing this packing it occurs to me that all those jokes of be the homeless guy with a lap top, sitting at the Coffee Bean sipping on the same small cup for two hours just for the free internet, are all coming true!

Whole – Lee – Crap!

I have spent a lot of time thinking now about not being in touch via the internet. My cell phone does not do it. It may, I don’t know. Just know that I do not pay for it to do it. It makes and receives calls and (of course) has replaced my wrist watch.

I find my self somewhere between really angry that I could not figure the thing out and really freaking stressed out over not being on-line. Creepy. Have I become so used to the never present – never real – never soft touch of others, experiencing ‘friends and companionship’  only in electronic format that without it, I am feeling lonely and anxious – before it has even happened?

Whole – Lee – Crap!

I am making lists in my head of when I can be at the bean. What kind of auto reply I can use to let people know, I am on limited connection times. How weird and dependent will it look to do that? How much a looser do you look like with only 90 minutes of internet per day? What if someone wants my services but I take to long to reply? What if someone has the offer of a life time, OF MY LIFE TIME and I miss it while in line for a Large Extra Fat Whole Natural Mothers Milk Mocha?!?!?

Don’t you get it? Life, MY LIFE, could be occurring with unchecked acceleration and one handed steering while I dither and dally and read PRINTED WORDS! I will be, a non-connected person. I will not know the latest, the newest, the sickest, the fastest of everything that really has nothing to do with nor affects me yet; I have become dedicated to reading and knowing every day; three to four times per day!

I am going back twenty years! One giant step backwards after another! At this rate , my mother Betty will be in labor again for Thanksgiving oh-10!

No face book, no yahoo news, no fantasy racing, no random surveys on jock itch, toe jam, erectile dysfunction, lower mortgage rates, higher returns, young singles or old money! WTF will I do?!?!

The thing is, the only thing it does effect is work. I can walk to the bean in the morning and check email, reply and note in said reply, do not expect reply again for 24 hrs.  In a few months, if all goes well, I will have some extra cash to get  the router that works with the AT&T modem (since they refuse to offer support for the one I do own without charging to tell me the info I need)

Until that time I will live like did in the dark ages of the 80’s. Shame I got rid of my Members Only jacket just last week as I packed for this move. Good think I still have the books – the very same books I disparaged for their bulk only a few day past, wishing for a kindle or equivalent! HA! Lesson learned.

Look for the smoke signals my friends, a stray symbol upon a cloud, feather on the breeze, perhaps a message in a bottle.  Please, just keep looking, as I will keep trying to put myself out there, somewhere, somehow, just as I am.

Peace,

A V

So, this is just one of those ‘one of those things’ things, ya know?

I live in the same town as the Western White House.  Past president Richard M Nixon’s vacation home on the coast in Southern California. It is also known as La Casa Pacifica. I had the opportunity to work there for a few days as grunt labor for a painter I know. Offered and accepted a short peek around. Public viewing and tours do not happen here.

“This is where Nixon met with Brezhnev”, “This is where the Nixon’s slept” Sort of – The current owners have made many changes over the years.

This past weekend, I was up in Ojai California, again working but in a different capacity. Being a long drive I was in my casual travel clothes with my fancy Sunday best on a hanger enjoying the view from the back and side window.

Upon arrival I shown to the guest house where I could relax, clean up and dress up. This space is arranged as a work-out room with small bedroom and bathroom off to one side. I commented, “This a very nice house”. I meant it, it is a really nice place!

The home owner took that time to present me with some history. The house, and the house next door as well, were built by/for a famous actress of the 1940’s era. It is also the house that Richard M Nixon stayed in while remodel and new construction as being done at La Casa Pacifica. Go figure.

This time, I was in the very same room that Nixon, Kissinger and Salinger sat in. I was in that room in my boxer/briefs dressing up to work. Later I was in the very same room that the Nixon’s slept in.  I was all dressed by then.

There is literally no point to any of this. Just a coincidence and curiosity. Made the 6+ driving to and from so much the better. Besides, the place is beautiful, the owners and family members that had me there were exceptional hosts! I felt and was treated more like a guest than a ‘vendor’.

So – some Nixon-ish stuff I have to call my own.  In fact, today, while I am moving, I think I will take  break to drive on by and wave.

Peace,

A V

Let me start by saying that moving, changing residence, is one activity that I truly despise. Really, I hate this process.

It is however the better option on occasion. Adapt, Migrate or Perish. These being the only three choices you have in any situation, I have opted to migrate.

Adapting would mean tolerating (learning to sleep through) the bullshit supplied by mentally unstable neighbor and the noise created by young drunks. Not interested.  I will not allow it to make me sick and tired, to challenge me any further, to have my life shortened by it. Others perishing would be a lovely thing but unfortunately I do not see it happening with any convenience.

That leaves migration. Admittedly, the new local will not be a whole lot better. It is what it is and I just need to get away from here before something very unpleasant occurs. I do not believe anymore I will ever be able to afford the kind of place I would be happy at. Certainly not where I currently live, Southern California. Only the very very rich can afford personal space in So Cal.

I suppose a bit of peace and quite is just to fucking much to ask for. To lay down to sleep and not be woken up by loud music, drunk +10 volume talking, people screaming into their phones while wandering around the common area. People too drunk to know where they are breaking things, stealing from me.

Quite – that is all I want – some quite.  One day of quite on this earth so I can (and will !!) die happy. Makes me sad to wish it would hurry up and happen already.

There is an odd freeing feeling that comes with ‘loosing the stuff’ – having to downsize and eliminate. Pick and choose what is important or at least replaceable. I wish more big stuff was less important and the little (light) stuff was. Not working out that way. About 50/50 if that is even possible to qualify that way.

Finding and appreciating the big picture, the effect this will have on  ‘the plan’, that oh so mysterious bright side, is what I need to do. Hello bright side, come out come out where ever you are!

A V

No -not the TMI of sordid sexual escapades, details of bodily functions, fantasy or revenge scenarios but actual, holy crap my head is going to explode, too much information. That kind.

Since I have found more free time than work, I have put into use the student loan (that I am falling behind on paying by the way) and signed up for as many classes as I  could.  Stopped thinking, “What if I get a job and have to drop that class and then pay the drop fee too?” Worry about that if it happens, and it has not. Just plow in head first and finish this freaking 1000 hours already.

First off, let me say it is not the best idea to take two energy based classes at the same time. I don’t know what you know about energetic body work, chakras, meridians, auras and the like but, I can tell you this: it has a lot to do with emotions. My worst subject. And having to get in there and stir that crap up not just once but, twice a week was more than a bit difficult for me.  I can say with confidence, as much as I have learned, will use, and will attempt to make use of, it sucked out loud. Really loud.

Along with this, just for balance, I am also taking the exact opposite, western style class, all science and mechanics. Two of them. Classes that is.  Loving it. Learning a ton and know for CERTAIN the information, technique and knowledge, will be put to good use.

The thing is – I am missing out on what I am learning since I am spending so much time moving on to the next thing. No time to assimilate, practice, feel and experience the changes trying to occur.  Eight hours in class and come home to shift gears and read, write about a completely different topic. I am missing some important stuff!

Yes, that is what school is like, and good students are the ones that can do it. I am not the student I once was. I try, but it is not like it was 30 years ago!

I bring this up as I just read a blog post by the most brilliant man I know (luckily my best friend as well) on how multi-tasking, rapid thought processing and change of topics is his strength.  Read it here.

I played Myst for three weeks. I could get off the dock and walk around the next little bit of land and that was it. Never got anywhere else. Obviously gamer, high-speed thinker, strategist and tactician are not my gifts.

So what are they then? I started to think on this while looking at a stack of binders, books and notes all acquired in the last 30 days or so. Thinking that I have attended nine, eight-hour long classes in the last eleven days, driven over six hundred miles to do so, still have one more today,  and I wonder if I know what I am doing.

How well have I learned this stuff? Am I just putting in the time or am I taking in the information as well? I know I am but on what level? Have I tried to get too much information? Will it sluff off when I start yet another class in a few weeks?

Being a productive high power multitasking CEO or anything else that requires those qualities is not likely for me. I wonder what is then? Where will my path lead? What will I do with the information I am gathering? Will I use it on me or others or just share it for them to decide on their own? Will I just forget it all when I find a worker-bee job in a cube?

It would be really nice to have just  bit of that stragety-tactic stuff right about now. Not the excessive wonder thang.

Peace,

Ant-Knee

There is sits, the beautiful bedside buddy whose bent is to break the your slumber. It exist as a tool to change you from at peace and healing and send you into action and self destruction.  (the very act of living is hurtful – not meant in a negative, over the top suicidal way – just your average aches and pains and sadnesses)

Alarms in general are for much more than that – “Sound the ALARM!” and such. Fire, Water, Bad Guys ( good guy too should you choose to call the door bell an alarm when operated by the pizza guy) Start, Stop and on and on and on.

This however is about the small electric powered one the lives mostly to my right in my room near my bed.  It consists of a lot of black plastic, a bit of clear composite material, some metals and maybe some paper and rubber. It uses red LED lights to communicate its digital form message to me – Hey Anthony, it is XX:XX:XX time of day or night.

It also has the ability to create sound and transmit sound it receives from other sources. It does one of these very well and the other not well at all. Unfortunately it does not do radio like it should. Where it lacks it makes up for in the grating, nerve racking buzz it can do in place of sweet music.

Sorry – this really had nothing to do with my electric, digital face clock. In fact, this is about and motivated by my clock NOT being involved at all. Just my head and how it dreams.

For the most part, the only dreams I can recall in any detail are about grocery shopping. Go figure. Makes no sense to me and even if dream readers could be trusted, I don’t want to ruin the joy of perfectly fresh and ripe fruits, garden fresh organic veggies and meat from the very best of everywhere at 0.39 per pound, no coupons needed as my pocket is full of cash!

This morning my dreams had nothing to do with food. Just sound. The last several months my sleeping location had been ruined by the obnoxious and inconsiderate behavior of others. My sleep restless, interrupted and often entered into with a level of anxiety and anticipation that did not lead to peaceful sleep.

Last-night was for some unknown reason, quite. Almost too quite. I found myself waking up to listen to the quite. “So, this is what a good night sleep should sound like!?!” Not exactly helpful on the rest front, waking to see what not being disturbed is like.

Then it happened, 4:30am, the sounds of the alarm clock on the right side night stand. I wake up, as intended, roll so my left hand can reach and – and – and – it is not on. No sound is coming from the clock.  Curious. I flip the switch anyway and the room is filled with static. Now I am sure it was not on.

I should at this time just go back to sleep and enjoy a work from home morning. That by the way means, get up anytime! Instead, I lie awake and wonder at why I am awake. How is it that the sound of my clock was so real in my noodle that it woke me and prompted me to attempt to turn it off? Again, I restlessly fall back asleep with the thought of my clock and my dream both firmly in place.

Over the next ninety minutes the same thing happens two more times!

I am up now – had 8 hours or quite for the first time in months and squandered it all by expecting the worse. Finally manifesting the anxiety into a dream so real it changed the way my morning began.

This was a pointless ramble – thank you for remaining in you seat.

Anthony

Seems I have made a few people wonder how I could be A) So remarkable hostile to towards people and B) Chosen to do touch healing work.

Ya know – that is one damn good question. My immediate hostile-towards-humans reply is, “No, you moron, I do not hate all people! I just find that statement faster than trying to pin point the loud, obnoxious, inconsiderate of other peoples space (including air space = noise) self indulgent, critically stupid in their actions and unaware of the results of those actions kind of people. THOSE are the people that when I encounter several in a short period of time, or when I am stuck with them as neighbors, as I am now, drive my level up tolerance over the edge and cause me to say, write, scream from the roof tops, I HATE FUCKING PEOPLE!”

I try to avoid that long answer for two reasons. It is usually followed by, “Which now includes you, you fucking idiot! Thank you for playing” Or, leads to some unnecessary question like, “What do you mean?” If your rose-colored-glasses-led-life have produced a life time of experiences that preclude you from understanding or being able to in any way identify with that rant, we have nothing to talk about. Not to mention, I would probably walk away since I would be provoked to stick a sharp pencil in your eye just to make sure you were a human and had feelings like a human. ( A bit of envy and jealousy make be in there as well)

I have been living on 4-5 hours of constantly interrupted sleep for months. If the rules for sleep deprivation are outlined in ‘what is vs what is not torture’, then my being a bit pissed off and sensitive may just have a physiological reason.  Ad to  that to my learning at an early age, unnecessary, intrusive noise leads to immediate, hostile and often violent reprimands, and you get me as I am now – pissed off that my fucking asshole neighbors are blatantly and knowingly offensive in their actions and activities.

Does this mean I cannot be a body worker? Hmm – lemme see.  Doctor’s die of disease everyday. Firemen die from smoke inhalation, psychiatrist commit suicide, talk therapists get divorced, ministers cheat on their wives and priests rape young boys. Athletes drop dead on the playing fields, scuba instructors drown, sky-dive instructors bounce. Now I am sure some of you with the logic bent will run through the list and point out the failed applicable Aristotelain form but I am not trying to create a perfect analogy nor do I give a rats ass if you can show in syllogism my mistake.

My point is – yes, I believe I CAN be an effective body worker, facilitate change on several levels in a body, system, do so with caring compassion , sympathy and empathy, ground myself, balance myself, project my intentions, do good – all while thinking there are some people I would like to make part of an artificial reef.

If you disagree, I suggest you read paragraph two again and get ready to take a dip.

Not really. And that’s what’s really bugging me. I don’t want a drink. What I want, is to want to have a drink. Really. Not necessarily a through-down-through-up-black-out drunk, I didn’t (always)  want those when I was drinking, but a sit and listen to blues, sip a deep dry red and just chill.

I just don’t want to. I really would like to, believe as far as excuses go, this is a perfect time to, expected and such. I can say, “Do you know what’s been happening?!” Also there is the out for my acquaintances, “Well, you know what’s been happening, right?” Easy for everyone.

It’s not a money thing either. I was never worried about money. Come on, when you are 95% short on rent and your credit cards are over the limit, does it really matter if you blow twenty or thirty bucks on drinking?

I am ‘technically’ homeless in a few weeks. Lucky enough to have a friend with a spare room that is willing to lend it out. “Anything you can pay will help me too.”   A tall can in a brown bag is part of the dress code, rule isn’t it? I have been struggling with listing my camping gear for sale. I need the money but, the shelter and such could become very important soon.

A funny thing did come from this. An actor acquaintance of mine who is still in high school commented on this, “I can’t believe it is that hard to find a job. So many of my friends, kids, have jobs.” There was not intention of hurting my feelings, belittling or to humiliate. Just a comment. It did however, leave a mark. I could go on for quite a while about it and most likely will in another post. For now, it just sits in my head filling up the space I want to be full of desire for a cocktail.

Damn it.

So, there I was, not dressed up but not looking like the nearly homeless and hopeless guy I am and feel like. My intention was simple to fill out the application, attach the CV and be on my way. Little did I know these folks are actually interested in those that apply and therefore call the department and ask if they can submit you. What a surprise. Glad I shaved and had my tats in hiding.

So, off I go down the semi-spiraling stairs. Of course I walked on the right which is the side with the wide section of stare and the most awkward to walk down. Already feeling a bit self conscious for being under dressed, I felt even more out of sorts trying to navigate the steps smooth and confident. Just the right width to mess up my stride. Two inches tall or shorter and I would have been golden. It always comes down to two inches with me.

So, the guy I am sent to see is in his office but not the one who comes out to talk to me. I introduce my self and tell him why I am there. He has on a rather large blue-tooth looking device. While we talk he occasionally gets this look like he is not really listening. Then he reaches down to a pager size pack on his belt, touches something, and the light goes off. So – he is hearing voices while I am trying to dazzel him. Great.

So, I am guessing this guy is about five to ten years younger than I am. Three times he made reference to the fact that they had just hired two ‘kids’. Twice he called the person leaving (whose job I was hoping to acquire with a little insider info) as ‘a really good kid’. Then there was the fact that they had scheduled ‘a kid’ to come in for an interview even before knowing the ‘really good kid’ was leaving.

So then, he paused briefly, looked me up and down and asked, “You know this job is outdoors right? Have you worked out side before?” It was on my way to the car that I allowed that really sink in. At the time I just wanted to reassure him that, although I was not anyone he would ever refer to as a ‘kid’, I was capable of doing the job. I am not even sure of that since I really have no idea what it is I am trying to get them to pay me to do. I just mad sure he was convinced.

So, I’m  just figuring , if it is something ‘kids’ can do, and be supervised by a kid themselves, it is something I can force my tired old ass to do too.

At least there as not one of those tediously long and frustrating true and false tests. I did one for Lowe’s today. It would not let me go any further than the test. That was very reassuring!

Well, not more really. Just going back and reviewing with embarrassment my previous views and completely fuckered up hopes for it. It being the past.

I rambled stupidly about how the past does in fact change since it is all subjective anyway, that as people grow and change and their memories modify that the past it self is effected. I am without explanation as to why I thought such a truly ridiculous thing. It is what it is and only my flawed memory has made it any different. Those that were there for it around and with me seem to recall it differently. I can only assume they recall it accurately.

I also quite foolishly rejoiced and welcomed things  and people from my past into my present. There was some longing and expectation that had obviously existed in me for some time. Probably only because I had such and inaccurate view of the past. I believed the mutual benefit of the connection because I wanted to believe it. That was the mistakes 1-4, 7, 9 and 13.

There was nothing for me in it. No peace, no closure, nor forgiveness, nor understanding. It showed up and I chose to believe it was a good thing for all. A good example for how screwed up and inaccurate my view of the present can be as well.

Everyone got to purge and ask the questions and say the I’m sorries and do all the crap they needed to make themselves feel better about their past.

I got the chance to act like there was some hope and light and positive things left yet to happen in life. I got one more chance to get my hopes up so I could get one more reminder of just how fucking stupid that is. One more round of loosing again. One more connection that has become one way – me talking to myself again.

I happily welcomed back the past. I was honest to the best of my knowledge with it. And for that, I get to start all over getting used to it walking out and turning away.

Anthony