Pics of Shoes

I like taking pictures of my shoes with other people's cameras. Most people who have known me for any considerable amount of time know this and very likely had it demonstrated to them.

For maximum amusement for me, this is best done in secret, but it has, unintentionally, become a "thing" about me. To illustrate this, I supply an anecdote: At my sister's wedding in Wisconsin, I was hunted down by her friend and college roommate at the reception, so that I could take a picture with her camera of my shoes (boring, black tux ones since I was in the wedding party) before the night was over. I obliged, but it felt weird being asked to do it. It's a bothersome, little brother thing that I do, and it didn't feel right what with it being requested and all. The fun of pestering is that it is not entirely welcome.

Weddings are a great time for this activity. There is a lot of commotion and/or hubbub, so it is easy to swipe and snap. It is also a time of dress-up, so I'm not wearing my usual Chucks or whatnots. Until just tonight, I thought it was at a wedding that this started. I had given a disposable at my step-sister's marriage and told to take some supplemental shots of the pre-wedding pictures. In the middle of all the pictures of Craig and Olivia, I included (most graciously, I thought) a shot of the front of my thrift store dress pants and solid black All Stars. (I was less fancy then)

Ryan Trivial Pursuit Update:
It actually began prior to that, end-of-junior-year-ish of high school. It is difficult to tell based on the photo. While the orange Converse are indicative of that time, it is tough to say because the date in the file info is not present. I include it here for the record.


The floor is the floor of my then-bestie, Ren's, bedroom.

I will end here my harrowing tale of self-revelation.

PS: Those pants I am wearing are from Hollister. Before you judge me, remember that we've all had questionable preferences in the past. I used to shop at American Eagle and Hollister as well as listen to Linkin Park and Limp Bizkit. We can all grow as people.

What to Do? What to Do?

Having three months of job-free downtime has the tendency to lead to a lot of thinking. Musing, if you will. I constantly joke about the uselessness of my degree and how advisers and the career center attempted to convince us that English is major open to numerous career opportunities. The trouble? Even if what they say is true, when I look over the list, there is nothing that I actually want to do. Nothing. Even writing itself doesn't feel quite there for me.

What's a liberal arts fellow to do? Any job I manage to land will be completely unrelated and only for financial support, so I still find myself wondering what in Loki's name I want to do with my life.

Recently, in an attempt to stir up some material for a story, I made a list of things that mattered to me the most. It wasn't helpful in its intended regard, but it did reveal something to me. Social justice is far more important to me than anything else. This is why I am so upset about the outcome of many of the ballot measures in this election cycle.

The question I now must ask myself: How does one become an activist? Secondarily: Can I make a living doing it?

I'd like to do work for a nonprofit, but I don't know how to find them. As I understand it, Tucson is actually a hotbed for nonprofits, but they seem to be hiding.

For now I have to go back to looking for a job with ever-lowering standards. Forgive me if I don't pump my fist in the air with enthusiasm.

We Are Not the Enemy

Please send work-safe photos with "We are not the enemy" somewhere in the image to wearenottheenemy@gmail.com. LGBT pals and groups are welcome; couple status is not required.

For a hearty dose of awesomeness, check it out. I think this is an awesome idea. I'd like to see billboards with similar pictures and message all over the country.

Institutionalized discrimination is not cool, mmkay? Stay classy Arizona and vote No on Prop 102. It's already illegal here for same sex couples to marry; do we really want anti-gay discrimination written directly into our state constitution?

You know those silly Amendments to the US Constitution: Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Nineteen, Twenty-Four, and Twenty-Six? Amendments are for righting wrongs, not compounding them.

Set the Field "Ryan" to the Value of "Failure"

I got an email today from Arizona Lithographers. I include the email here:

Ryan,

Thank you so very much for your time in interviewing with us for our CSR position. We did choose another candidate. You interview well and certainly come across as an intelligent and thoughtful person.

We wish you the very best in your search for a career. Thank you for your interest in Arizona Lithographers.

Sincerely,
Renda

So, I am an intelligent, thoughtful person who is still unemployed. This is for the suck. Can a brother get a break? I feel more and more like Princeton from Avenue Q as days go by. It can't be that hard to find a job. Perhaps I am being too picky. I am about two steps away from applying at the Walmart by my house. This is a sad state of affairs.

And this unemployment thing is making me a serious wet blanket. It's become the dominating force of my existence, and I declare that lame. It is duck with lamesauce.

Bollocks.

Wuh tuh eff? Snake?!

I found this snake while I was cleaning about my room today. I would like to echo my title and say again, "Wuh tuh eff?"

I already have an anxiety about having my feet on the floor; I don't like thinking about what might be down there outside my range of vision. I do not appreciate your invasion, Señor Serpiente.

I commend myself on my wilderness/survival skills at catching this bad mammajamma. You may now refer to me as Jeremiah Johnson. My wardrobe shall consist of nothing but leathers and furs (all of which I killed myself), and I shall smell strongly of musk, the scent of Man.

I'll own that I am afraid of snakes. They creep me out. There is not enough to them. A spine and organs does not an animal make. I tried to figure out what kind of snake it was but to no avail. Any herpetologists out there?

But on an impulse I don't understand, I don't want to just let this snake go outside. In a weird way I want to tame it and teach it the ways of humankind. It could be my friend and ambassador to the Animal Kingdom.

I can do that without touching it, right?

New Library

I went to the grand opening of the new library that's within walking distance of the house I grew up in. I would have loved to have that there when I was a young chitlin. I loves me some library, so I anxiously awaited the announcement of its opening. The grand opening was finally announced for September 13th, so I made a point of going. It was nice, if a little dry. I did find myself disappointed by three things in particular, which I ranked in order of irksomeness.

1) The library itself is very small. Very few shelves and too much space given over to computers.

2) A prayer was said during the ceremony. I found this inappropriate at the opening of a government building. This is a clear violation of the separation of church and state. The sentiments expressed were nice enough, but the shrouding in religious language left a bad taste in my mouth.

3) The grand "opening" was held nearly two months after the library actually opened, which was at the end of July. I'd been watching the library website since June to see when it would open, but it was never posted. I'd been waiting for all that time for nothing. That is what upsets me the most.

Other than that, it is nice to have a library so close, even though I will probably not frequent it much at all. There are very few chairs or tables that are not for the computers. The whole place is essentially shelves and computer workstations, which disappoints me and leaves me nowhere to do any writing.

Phooey.

Port Land Adventures: Wrap-Up Edition

Wellz, I am back in Tucson and surprisingly glad of that. I think I actually kind of missed it here. Portland is delightful and all with its charming houses and kickin' cafes, but I never realized how much Tucson is my home. As someone who always feels very temporary, this is a big deal. So I don't resent being back. I do find myself recovering from all the danged walking--my variegated bodily segments are sore.

I have learned wisdoms about the magical kingdom of Portland which I will now impart unto thee:

-Portland is a locus sans pigeons.
-There are lots of homeless peoples but few buskers. There are dark haired ladies outside of Powell's who offers a song in exchange for change.
-Zoos, no matter what state they happen to be in, are totally kickass fo' rizzle.
-McDonald's is shamed by the awesomeness of local cafes and restaurants. They hardly show their face. I only saw the one. Starbucks is similarly put to shame.

And I am starting to get more settled into my arrangement. I am bringing more stuff out of boxes, and I even bought a piece of furniture. It's a pretty keen desk. There is still a lot to do, but I am allowing myself to become a little less temporary-minded about my living situation.

Now all that is left is for me to find a job. I am frequenting Craigslist, but if anyone hears about any opportunities, please let me know.

Port Land Adventures: Day Two Point One. Non-Self-Pitying Edition.

So here is what I did today that didn't involve being way sad and introspective. My wacky sleep schedule strikes again! Woke up at several time but forced myself to stay in bed until 8:30. I started my day by going to Powell's. I am in hearts with that store now. I bought two books! Huzzah!

Then I bought a TriMet pass for ze public transportation. After that I ate lunch at this totally kicking Japanese/Korean place. They had nummy nums. From there I headed over to investigate the Vintage Clothing Descriptionist job. Unfortunately, they already filled the post. *sad faces*

Because I am lame and out of shape, I was pretty pooped at this point. I went back to the hostel to look more on the webbertubes for jobs and apartments. That was the point where I really started questioning what I was doing with life and all that nonsence.

Dinner time! I had a wonderful bacon cheeseburglar at Blue Moon. More Powell's! I bought presents for peoples. Prepare for that.

It is now nine o'clock, and I am lame and tired, so it is bedtime. My plan for tomorrow includes the Japanese Garden and the Oregon Zoo. Woo for zoo!

Port Land Adventures: Day Two. Tail Between the Legs Edition.

I crashed today. I crashed hard. In all my fetishizing my move to Portland, it has now occurred to me that I never asked myself some very important questions. Namely:

1) Do I actually want to leave Tucson?
2) Why Portland, honestly? What's with the romanticizing?
3) What is it that I actually want to do? Can I only do that something outside of Tucson?

I've changed a lot since high school, and I don't like all of those changes. Portland became for me something of a talisman. It became my magic bullet.

There are no magic bullets.

Portland looks like a wonderful town from what I've seen of it, but I think the time has come for me to be more realistic. Portland was an escape. At this point in my life, I need to grapple with reality. I have too many questions I didn't know existed. I probably should add the need to integrate myself into a new environment to that. I have a hard enough time making friends as it is.

So, the moral of the story is, I'll probably be coming back to Tucson earlier than expected, maybe Thursday. Though I might stick around for some vacationing without all the stress of job hunting and the like. I mean, I might as well, as long as I'm up here. Still, another four days of puttering around town might be a little much.

Everything is wonderful!

Port Land Adventures: Day One

The flights went off without a hitch. I got into PDX around 2:00ish. (Another shout-out to Amanda and Jake who are totally killer) From there, I took the MAX train into town. It wiggled. It wiggled a lot. My suitcase fell down once. I checked in at the hostel after a 15-minute walk or so from the train stop. It was green and not flat.

I loafed for a bit but got into doing to some more job searching. When I got sick of that, I decided to take a walk around the area. I estimate it must have been around two or three miles, all told. I kept an eye out for ‘Now Hiring’ signs and apartment complexes that were currently leasing. Plenty of apartments, but the only ‘Hiring’ sign I saw was in the window of Hollywood Video. I have not ruled it out.

I came back to the hostel and drafted an email for a potential job that wasn't entirely molded from bullshit. We’ll see what happens with that. At this point I got hungry, so I sojourned for vittles. As it turned out, I accidentally ate pretentious pasta. I poked into this Italian place, and before I realized my mistake, I was seated. It had menu items at full dollar values. By then, I was too uncomfortable to admit my mistake and leave to get a burger or something, so I wound up getting a spaghetti and meatball appetizer and a disarmingly potent lemon drop. That thing was beastly.

Then I went to bed around nine because I am apparently an old man. Stay tuned for more wacky adventures! Day two shall hold, at the very least, applying at Hollywood video, a car wash, and checking out the vintage clothing job. Yowzers!

My Sleep Schedule Has Become Wack

I repeat: wack. And not in the way usual for me. Earlier in the summer, I was able to avoiding going nocturnal again, Thor be praised. I've been going to bed by or before midnight and have been waking up around 5:00 am for the past few days. I wake up rested and ready to go with no desire to lounge around in bed until ten or eleven o'clock. I get out of bed, maybe do a little writing, catch up on my RSS feeds, eat some breakfast, and then carry on with my day.

So I ask: what is wrong with me? This isn't something I sought; it just happened. I'm starting to think this is another sign that I am *lowers voice* ...maturing. You know, like as an adult. I've also been drinking more water, reading more, cutting way back on junk food and soda, and been more financially responsible. The heck? And I didn't even say to myself, 'I should start doing these things.' It was a shift in instincts. I wanted to start doing these things.

Anyone else a little freaked out?

It's not as though I am overly upset by these new developments, they just snuck up on me. It's almost as though I care about things now and am growing up.

lolbutts

Hostel

I booked my reservation for my scouting trip to Portland. I'm staying in a hostel in the northwest part of town which a short distance from downtown and west of the Pearl District. So we're clear, that actually means very little to me; I just thought I'd mention it. I'm booked for six days starting the twenty-fifth and ending the thirty-first. I'll be coming home that Saturday.

On this adventure I am hoping to secure both employment and housing. Succeeding that, I will fly back, shoot around some farewells, pack up the auto, and drive the auto up to my new place of residence. If all goes well, I'll be living in Portland in little more than two weeks.

Without going too much into it, I am very excited. I've been on this up-and-down cycle of anxiety over this since I found out I'd be losing my job at the end of July. I'm still a little jittery and rightly so. We're talking a major life change on the order which I have never before experienced or initiated. And for a moment of back patting and horn tooting: I am proud of myself for doing something that isn't just me floating into something new. Proactive! Motivated!

Is this what it feels like to be an adult? I'm thinking I might like it. Of course, there's every likelihood I'll wind up in some nothing job just to make rent and bills, but adults do that too.

:(

Slow internets... My sole consolation is that I named my newly created wireless network "ponyprincess." It's a small token, but it is what I have to work with. Downloads that used to take seconds on cable now can take 15-20 minutes on DSL. Browsing is still fine, though I've noticed load times on larger webcomic images. Enough whining from me tonight.

*sad face emoticon*

Woe has come to Fort Ryan. I’ve been told when my last day of employment shall be. As of August the First, I shall be more shiftless than is usual or fitting. This may energize my departure schemes, as a fellow cannot be expected to pay bills without any honestly-come-by income, and I am too whimsical for the rough and tumble world of black-market circuses. I am ill-equipped for a life of hooliganry, so if anyone knows of any jobs and/or rackets that range in illegality from only mildly to not at all, I’d be appreciative if you let me know the skinny.

Relocation Excitation

I am perched upon the verimost cusp of moving. And I think there is one thing that nearly everyone can agree on: moving is not splendid. There are sure to be dissenters, but we shall put these people down as being totally crackers and we will have none of their jackanapes.

Most of my things are packed, but I haven’t yet gotten to the exciting part of discovering food in the cupboards that I’ve had since I moved in and forgot about (I’m saving the fun bits for last).

I will say this for moving: it gives me license to be at sixes and sevens—boxes and bits of debris everywhere and no apology forthcoming. That is the only positive thing I can think of, especially when the process calls for moving large articles up flights of stairs for which I blame Jesse’s new apartment.

There are things I could say about moving back in with the folks for a spell, but the situation is only temporary. I’m likely to spend as much time out of the house as possible, time that I will try to use for some advantageous scribbling and jots. If the new library is open by there, I’ll spend a fair amount of time recessed in any one of its available nooks. I haven’t been in public libraries much of late, but they have to be less of a douchebaggy place to write than coffee houses.

Tidbit: Juno has reinvigorated my youthful passion for orange Tic Tacs. I fear I am in for days of orange tinted tongues with accompanying tangy fresh breath.

I have been remiss

I am a festering puss gland filled with the vile putrescence of neglectivity. There is something dishearteningly dissuasive about graduating with a Creative Writing degree when it comes to actually doing any writing. The whole idea of this blog was to get me used to writing on a regular basis. Instead it has acted as an avenue for the occasional musing or to grouse about Christianity.

My point is this: no more! I got together with a chum of mine today, who is one of my writerly friends, and though I was fully aware I'd been avoiding what is supposed to be my life and driving passion, the sad truth of it hadn't fully struck me until I admitted it to a kindred spirit.

I have allowed myself to sink into the drudgery of the sleep-eat-work routine. Today marks the day that I try and shimmy and shake my way out of it. Hear me blag, and hear me good: I'muh gonna write you up nice. I's gonna whisper sweet somethings into your ear and fill you with the turgidity of muh words. Brace yourself, it's about to get erudite all up in this bitch.

Respek.

Good Idea, or Best Idea?

.
.
.
Best Idea.

Am I So Vain?

Okay, so if think that the song "You're So Vain" is about the guy Carly Simon says "I bet you think this song is about you" to, does that make me vain by extension?

Also, do I have to forfeit my man tackle if the first association I have with that song is that scene near the end of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days? I think I probably do.

Shucks.

My Geosciences Notes for Today

Today I was a very responsible and diligent student, and took some serious notes that were very thorough. I can make plate tectonics fun! Here's a sample:

It is cold in here. I am cold. [Bryan: It's not cold.] You lie. You lie like and lying liar. I am also tired. There needs to be food in my belleh. I might just have to bust out my emergency rations. I could really go for a sammich right about now. A sammich with salami. Genoa salami. Mit der mustard. Yurms!

Knowledge! That was science, just then. We have learned science. We are scientists. The Earfs are moving.

i r the earth. i r serious planet.

[Something about ridges] Ruffles have ridges, too. Har har… “rigid.” Turgid.

[On the PowerPoint] A VISCOELASTIC SOLID. NOT LIQUID!! (That is vurry importint to know. Distinction!)

Just say “no” to Comic Sans. [Which a college professor has used for her notes presentation]

She says “may-zure.” Measure. May-dzure.

South America is faster than us. They’s be getting’ uppity.

My nipples are starting to become an immediate concern. Had to zip up the jacket. I could direct the PowerPoint with those bad boys.

Tonga. Tonganese. Polynesian. Islands. Eye lands. The land of tonganese eyes.

I r learning plake tectonics!

The asthenosphere is a viscoelastic solid; it is so totally not a liquid. That’s just being straight ig’nint, dog.

There are also Vikings [in Iceland]. Vikings who enjoy the rejuvenating feeling they receive from a nice soak in the natural hot springs. Geolog-tastic refreshment!

A continental rift is the solution to illegal immigration. Protect our borders!! Geology is on America’s side. It wasn’t at first, but then the Freedom Eagle™ laid a bit of the “smack” down.

I will relax in the last few minutes. It would be easier for me to relax if I could enjoy a refreshing soak with a Viking. If they could soak so nicely, why is it that they raped and pillaged so much? I bet all they would have needed was a good masseuse. Rub that stress out, you hulking lug, you. It’s also weird that people from the Scandinavian area are pretty much the nicest people you’re ever gonna meet. That’s hope for the descendants of the people who raped and pillaged America. Maybe we’ll be charming one day.
Though, I think YouTube is going to prevent that from ever happening.

Chilean. Chillin’. Chill-eh-in. You be illin’. You tell it like it is Run DMC, you tell it like it is.

RING OF FIRE!

Now you know about plate tectonics, too. I have have imparted science to you. Can you feel it? That wonderful swarmy feeling in your brainpan? That is science squirming around in there.

You are welcome.

*John Lennon Song Title*

Whilst being oh-so-very productive at work, I had an interesting line of thought:

Science is all wonderful and explanatory, and it has that pesky tendency to do away with all the mysticism that was cause for arise in god-conjuring. Having that as an advantage, what would happen if a community was constructed with absolutely no mention of any religion or religious belief?

It makes me wonder if some dreamer in the community might concoct some form of theistic philosophy. There's a possibility, but with science demystifying all the reasons for having thought up spirits and gods in the first place, I don't think it is all that likely. Even if it did happen, I couldn't imagine the idea being treated with all that much credibility. It seems so novel an idea that no one has any thoughts of any god when we live in a world where so much is informed by theistic muddle.

What would that community be like? A nice place to live, I’d think. I’d imagine there would be a much healthier attitude about sexuality. Death would no longer be a subject that’s treated as borderline taboo. Morality would be based on empathy, and policies would be made as a result of logic with the benefit of evidence. Hey, and no more gender inequality based on sacred text supported patriarchy (that's one of my favorites).

You can’t really call it an atheistic community because there would be no theistic beliefs to be without. I do understand the problem with providing a selective heritage, but in this case, I think it would be beneficial. The biggest loss would be a whole lot of really good literature.

Although, I guess you could change the context, and teach all the religions as purely fictional. That way Paradise Lost would not need to be excluded.

This is why I’d like to be some kind of dictator, so I could set up these sorts of grand societal experiments.

(All this is tangentially connected to me having read this blog post)