The Break Up

It has been close to two months since we broke up. Well… I terminated the relationship. I have felt free in a transcendent way ever since. I cannot explain how unhappy I truly was until I gathered the strength to walk away.

Okay, it wasn’t all that hard. But, after I ended it I began to realize what a time thief it was. I was somehow addicted to Facebook for all of my world information. Then… I was free. I deleted my profile and ran away. Ya’know? It was the best choice. Now, I’m sure I could blog about how the massive data sell-off that hit the news convinced me, as I am a person of mindful character. It happened around the same time and it was a small part, yet it was more about the obligations of connections to Facebook groups and friend lists. Mostly it was that I would no longer explore the web for new blogs and sites to discover. Yes, we know that blogging has long been killed off thanks to Facebook posts. Why write a page of experience when we can post on our page for our selective connections to comment? Facebook gives us a formatted list of discussions and opinions for better or worse. It is not exploring new ideas, it is tailoring your audience to your taste. It also sets up a battle field that makes us a hero to supporters whilst tearing those that dare to have an opposing opinion.


After the big delete, I find that I am exploring for my news again. I am going down nerdy rabbit-holes of nerd stuffs. Back in 2008 I had pages and pages of blogs and obscure content I followed. Did you know that Tumbr is still around??? Wow. Stunned.


Mike the roommate, who will always keep it real with me, says it’s because I get a rush of self-satisfaction (holier-than-thou) by being able to say, ”I… I don’t DO Facebook.” And, he is right about that. It feeds that special snowflake hipster that lives in side of me. He is a bitch. The old man in me says it’s nice to not bother with all that family and friend drama. Both sides are excited about exploring the web and not having it tailored and edited for me.

Dragcon

Did I mention that we went to Dragcon this last weekend? I understand how it could go unmentioned as there has been a lot going on. With my Mother’s death and finials week for school it sort of seemed like the red tape at the end of a sprint.

Dragcon is the Rupaul’s Drag Race convention occurring annually in Los Angeles. All things dragish are celebrated. For me it was a reward for ending this last semester of school. My final grades haven’t been posted, but I’ll reward myself for by passing grades now. We flew out a couple of days before the event started and took a trip to Hogsmeade, via the Harry Potter land inside Universal Studios, Hollywood. Where I drake my fill of Butterbeer, and rode all the wizarding rides.

The drag-convention was absolutely amazing. I was able to have a picture taken with my favorite Queen, Kim Chi. And one of my all-time heroes in life, Michelle Visage. I follow Michelle on her podcast where she speaks a lot of good health via food choices and most importantly life choices.  She’s quite remarkable in her life outlook. All-in-all it was a great time and I am grateful for the timing to come at the end of such a tumultuous period.   



Kim Chi; Good enough to eat

But, her beer

The Oil Rig Fire

An odd thing happens when you mention that your parent just passed. There is that phase were you hear your own voice confirm the fact, hearing that your Mom is dead. But, I’m more speaking to the reaction by other people. There is of course the expected “oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.” Which honestly goes a long way in my book. Let’s just acknowledge it and move forward. Yet, I have noticed another reaction. The reaction where the person I just shared the statement with, and I expect the acknowledgment, then goes into a long dramatic tale of how their parent too died, but in much more horrid and traumatic fashion. Like it’s a competition.

 

My favorite response to “How did she die?”  is to steal a line from the Golden Girls “Fighting an oil rig fire in the Gulf.” [pause] “She was eighty-three, how do you think she died?!?”

 

I am usually great at getting away from small-talk conversations. As I don’t really care for people, and I have found endless ways to avoid them. Yet, when someone is interrupting your story of how you learned of your Mothers passing to strut and fret their hour upon the stage, explaining exactly how long their mother of incontinent before being found dead with her thirteen year old cat Snoodle, there is no real escape. Now that you have a dead parent in common, are they free to dump their pent-up emotional baggage upon you? I say, no. Unless you’re asked.

Cars

I am still vacillating on a new car.  As I have been blogging for over ten years I can look back and see that I go through this phase every four years. Which, keeping a car for four years is actually incredible considering my history and eighteen year old level of instant gratification on everything in my life.

 

Sure the Jeep is fine, other than the fact that Mike, the bestie, who also is a certified expert Jeep mechanic, doesn’t want to fix it any more. I mean, his only replaced the fuel pump three times. In four years. But, now he wants to break up with my Jeep. So, now I have to decide what car will define me for the next four years.

 

Mike says that I don’t like a car unless it’s attached to a “holier-than-thou cult.” I need to drive a vehicle that has me standing apart from the muggle drivers on the road. Not fancy, like the BMW emblem on the hood would make me feel superior, to the contrary. He believes that my car needs to give me the same feeling that a freshly pressed vinyl album of an obscure alternative band (one you’ve never heard of) gives a bearded hipster.  A hip-alternative (yet totally non-douchey) to the BMW, but just as snow flaky.

 

Yeah. He is totally right. But, he spends a lot of time around people and the relationship with their cars.

 

So, you would immediately think something like Mini Cooper or Subaru. They kind of have the same sensibilities as my Jeep Wrangler. Alter-hip-cool. This was what I thought until I sat at an intersection in the Boulder, Colorado. There were six cars around me, waiting for the light. All six were blue Subaru Outbacks. It’s like the city has a law to ticket non-Subaru drives inside the city limits of this up-market college town.

 

So it’s back to thinking about the Volkswagen Alltrack wagon. A sporty station wagon that is just sporty enough, yet station wagony enough to say, “Yeah, I drive a sport wagon. I’m so cool.. But I don’t need you to tell me I’m cool.” But, there are so many things to consider. Like will the bike rack on top look imposing enough. Like the Yakima Rack attached to the spear tire of my Jeep. Sure I’ve never used it, but, it looks like I’m a mountain biker.  

 

After next weekend I really need to decide, God help me if my fuel pump goes out on my Wrangler. Again.

 

 

Almost Summer

I literally have one day of classes left until school is out for the summer. I do have one major exam to take next Tuesday, then I am free for the summer. The exam will however, possibly kill me so I might not see the summer. It is two hours of free-style essays on Rene Descartes and David Hume. Descartes I pretty okay with, understanding his arguments for the existence of God. In the mid-term I had to argue a seminal point and ended up re-writing the plot to the Lion King. I missed a letter grade because I miss-represented Simba for the name Kimba. Not sure that happened.

 

For the finial I plan on explaining Rene’s position on the whole “God” thing using analogies from Beauty and the Beast.  “No one explains an a-priori argument like Gaston!!” I do however, have no idea about how I am going to write about David Hume. For the last four weeks, when we have been discussing Hume’s argument of God’s inconsistencies in regard to human suffering; I have been just staring at his sassy turban on the textbook cover. No one, living or dead, can argue that we may perceive two events that seem to occur in conjunction, yet there is no way for us to know the nature of their connection in an argument against the concept of causation and do it while rocking a turban like that man.

 

After next Tuesday it will all be over. And, I will be free to enjoy my summer.

* It's like a he-man beer commercial.