Troubadors Corner

Just a place for my thoughts

Monday, October 31, 2005

Instant Messaging and Soul Mates

I wound up in a conversation that I did not expect yesterday. Since I play an online game, with a lot of different people from all over everywhere, I have made friends over the years with a lot of people. I have known A since she was 12. Being older and hopefully a little wiser, I have talked to her many times as a big brother or perhaps a father. I have watched her grow into a mature and beautiful young woman since I have known her. I should also mention that she is very sharp intellectually.

Yesterday, I was working at my computer, blogging of course, and A instant messaged me. She asked me what I was doing, and if I was in the game. Not thinking, I told her that I was working on my blog. If you have been following my writing, you will know that I am an intensely private person in some ways, yet I will put my writing up for the entire world to see. I don’t claim to understand it, yet here I am. Anyway, A did not believe that I had a blog, so I gave her the URL. As she read through, she would send back comments. After a while, so was quiet, so I thought she had gone onto something else. She had not.

She wrote to me, asking about my comment that my wife is not my soul mate. She felt that I had written that in a negative way, and asked my why I would stay in a relationship that was “cold and distant” – I am paraphrasing. I assured A that I was neither cold nor distant to my wife, but that we simply were not soul mates. Our conversation went on for quite a while after that, and be assured that A’s remarkable intellect and persistence kept me on my toes for quite a while.

However, she got me thinking that perhaps of she did not understand the comment, then others might not either. My wife has yet to read this blog, and I certainly don’t want her to mis understand this. I will probably have to explain a lot of other stuff the way it is.

Here goes:

My definition of a soul mate, is a male or female friend, companion, lover, or whatever, that is uniquely in tune with you. When you are with them many things can go unsaid, because there is a connection and understanding the exists that makes certain conversations redundant. A soul mate knows when they are in the room with their other. They can feel them. A soul mate can simply look at their other half, and know what kind of day they had, or what they are thinking. Soul mates can finish sentences for their counterparts. Soul mates know almost everything there is to know about their other because they either intuit the information, or their other has told them. The sharing of history is almost a need for soul mates because it further cements the bond between them. There are no mysteries between soul mates, and it is damn near impossible for a soul mate to lie to the other.

The relationship is extremely intense. I have been in relationships like these. For me I have found that they are not healthy. Being with a soul mate keeps me on an emotional razor’s edge, and that is something that I cannot sustain. As I grow older, I become more aware of the space that I need. As much as I love my wife, and I do love her, I don’t want her inside my head all the time. I want to be able to keep things to myself, and cope with them on my own. Also, possibly because of the loss of Tim, I don’t think I could bear the pain of losing another that I am so close to. I realize that we all must part ways someday, and I don’t know if I am strong enough to bear that again.

Lastly, I think that God had a lot to do with who I am married to. There are a lot of places in any marriage that a person can complain about, but I think, had I married my soul mate, I would have walked away from it a long time ago. My wife gives me the room I need, yet is there when I really need her. There is a comfort level that comes from that that is invaluable to me.

A told me that she was not going to be satisfied until she got exactly what she wanted in a mate. I told her that what she wanted, and what was best for her might not be the same thing.

Peace

Troubador

Sunday, October 30, 2005

Carl's house

Wash your eyes with this

In my line of work, I must regularly deal with architects. On the whole I have little good to say about the work they produce. I am sure they are good people, with good intentions, but there are some drawings that I review that I would be ashamed to put my name on.

We do a lot of work with a local firm. My father is a very close friend with several of the principals of the firm. Architects have field representatives that spend a lot of time on large jobs in supervisory roles. On a recent project we met Carl. In my opinion, Carl is one of the nicest people I have ever met. He works very hard at his job, and is just a hell of a person.

This summer, Carl informed the firm that he was going to take a leave of absence to go home and do some work on his mother’s house. Carl is close to sixty, so his mother must be near 80.

So Carl sold his house here in Ohio, including all of the furnishings, and went home. To Mississippi. Gulfport Mississippi.

His house, and his mother’s and his sister’s, were all within three blocks of the beach.

Then came Hurricane Katrina. Now, Carl’s house is beachfront property. The hurricane and storm surge lifted the entire house off the foundation, and set it on a skew, almost 5-1/2 feet out of square on the foundation. It is a total loss. All of the contents are ruined. The sister’s house was a bit farther from the shore. For some reason it was spared a lot of the damage, but nonetheless.

Less than one week after the hurricane passed, the firm had borrowed a motor home, stocked it with food and clothing, and sent it south for Car.

Earlier this year, my father and mother had the opportunity to buy the house next to them and they did. They were in the process of renovating it when the hurricane hit. They have offered to let Carl stay there and he has accepted. The firm learned of this and swung into action again. People have been at the house every night for almost three weeks, painting and renovation. The interior design team has been there selecting curtains, flooring and fixtures.

Somehow, the firm got in touch with the people that bought Carl’s house. When the new owners learned what happened to Carl, they agreed to give back all of the furniture and hand made wall hangings that Carl’s wife had made and left with the house.

The local appliance store has even pitched in to help furnish the kitchen. Essentially, when Carl and his wife arrive tomorrow, they will be able to put their suitcases in the closet, and be in the home that they left.

Carl does not know anything about this.

He will know tomorrow.


I can’t wait.

There are good people in this world

And these Architects, at least for now, are among them


Troubador

Friday, October 28, 2005

Why do we need to know this?

Star Trek was one of my very favorite TV shows.

Why do I need to know who Sulu is sleeping with?

Gives a whole new meaning to "All ahead Full"

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20051028/ap_on_en_tv/people_george_takei

Thursday, October 27, 2005

*****Disclaimer**** This is a rant. If you want warm fuzzies, turn back now

Once again, our local paper has posted the pictures of dead beat dads, that the sheriff has arrested and hauled away for back child support. The show their names, their ages, how much they owe, and for how long.

Everyone pats themselves on the back for getting these low lifes off the street. We are all so proud that we are punishing these bastards, and the judges and lawyers can sleep at night thinking that justice has been served.

Well what about me?

What about my kids?

What about my family?

What about my parents?

What about my carreer?

What about the college education for my kids?

What about my retirement?

What about a vacation once in a fucking while?

What about a new vehicle?

What about getting paid what I am worth to this company?

What about the financial future of my employees?

What about the support that we could give to charities?


I work for a family owned company. My family. My father is the boss, and the owner. My mother is the secretary and treasurer. They have worked hard all their lives. They live in a middle class neighborhood. The have never travelled. They still eat home made soup and grilled cheese. My father will be 70 in two months

Mom turns 67 in November.

In 1995, we hired a book keeper. I will spare you the details because they would amount to a novel. On December 16th, 1998, she was removed from our office in handcuffs. She admitted to forging checks. For three years. More than $1000.00 a week. In the end, we think she stole $196,000.00. From my family.

She was eligible for 18 years in prison for the felonies that she committed.

She did 3. In minimum security.

That adds up to making more than $84,000. a year if you add what she stole, to her paycheck.

3 years.

The court ordered her to make restiution. We spent almost 50k prosecuting her.

Once every two months, she sends a check for $400.

Do you know how long it will take for her to pay off what she stole?

My grandson will die of old age.

I have asked the court to compell her to pay more.

The court says that they are not responsible for collecting restitution.

I have asked her parole officer to violate her parole when she misses payments.

The parole officer says, "you don't really think that you are going to see that money do you?"

I asked what happens when her probation is over.

The answer is that we have nothing then. No way to compel to pay her debt.

5 yrs times $2,400 a year = $12,000, or a net of $193,000.

I have employees that pay $150.00 or more a week in child support.

The cannot even force her to get a job.

Crime pays

Big


Troubador

Guy Space

OK, I need to poll the audience here. There are two places in my house that are MINE. One is the top of my dresser and the top two drawers, the other is my computer and the desk top it is on. For clarity, I don't even get the drawers of the desk, but the top is mine. One other sacred space is mine and that is my wallet. Thats it. My wife thinks I am crazy when I will not get into her purse when I am looking for something, but I won't. She asks me what I have to hide when I get squeamish when she wants to root through my wallet. But I digress.

Last night, with no warning, her computer shut down. I am no computer geek, but I am guessing that its the power supply. I called the local computer guys and asked them how much it would cost, and the first quote was $150. I really don't have the cash right now to repair a computer that is less than two years old ( and yes, out of warranty). One the other hand, I will not be able to take having her in MY space for much longer.

Am I crazy?

Should I spend the money?

Should I sell the kids halloween candy on Ebay to finance this?

What is a guy to do?

Troubador

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

A religion of peace

This is a religion of peace?

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20051026/ap_on_re_mi_ea/iran_israel

What happens when Israel thinks they have no chance of survival unless they use their nukes?

Pray for Peace


Troubador

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Groceries, Cheerleaders, and the Gay Stooges

This all fits together somehow, I just haven’t figured it out yet.

My wife sent me to the grocery store at 10 PM last night. This is one of her endearing little habits that has a tendency to make me quite grumpy in a hurry. We needed things for the kid’s lunch today, and she had forgotten to stop and get them on the way home. I decided that I would not mention the fact that she has to pass three grocery stores, I don’t know how many convenience stores and that her mother owns and operates a deli that is right across the street from where she works.

But I digress…..

So I get my jacket on, find all of my keys, glasses, wallet, shoes, and get in the truck and drive the two blocks, in the rain, in the cold, to get bananas and cookies for lunch.

One of the things that used to help ease my pain was the fact that our grocery store had this uncanny knack for hiring cheerleaders from the two local high schools. For the record, I can’t stand cheerleaders, and it makes me queasy when my daughter says she wants to be one, but at least they are pleasant to look at.

Imagine my disappointment when I walk into the store---no cheerleaders. The have been replaced by Larry, Carl and Stewart…the Gay Stooges. I took one look at these three ( that’s all it took) and made a beeline down the bread aisle.

Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with gays, lesbians, or whatever variation that makes your clock chime. But I was expecting young nubile cheerleaders…sigh. Oh, what, you want to know how I could tell they were gay? Lets see. Golf shirts buttoned all the way to the top, little black glasses, permed hair with product in it, watches on the wrong hand, and the mannerisms that I can’t adequately describe.

I get the three or four items that my dear wife wanted and tried to go through the check out line.

The lady in front of me had coupons. Lots of coupons. Either Larry or Carl was working the register, and she was giving him attitude. Carl was getting positively pissy right back. They were arguing over 13 cents! I started fishing around in my pocket for the change to get this broad the hell out of my way, when Carl caved and gave her the coupon. Then she got out her check book to pay for the order. The ice cream that I was holding was starting to melt from the heat in my grip.

I started to look for another line. Stewart, the other cashier was so busy talking to Cathy in the office, that it would be too much trouble to actually acknowledge that another customer was waiting. Now, to really set the scene of this freak show, Cathy would make two of me. I don’t know how she managed to get so big, but I swear one day I saw her get stuck in the door of a city bus. This is the gods honest truth. Stewart is actually doing his little simpering flirty act that gay men seem to do with fugly women.

Finally, the woman in front of me gets her head out her ass, gets her bill paid, and gets the hell out of my way.

Remember Larry, the third stooge? He was bagging. I was signing the ticket from my debit card while he was putting the bananas in the bag. I looked up at him, he was looking at Cashier Carl, and fondling my bananas. He gave Cashier Carl a slightly raised eyebrow, as his fingers slipped across my breakfast.

I grabbed the groceries and walked out. Larry said, “Have a Nithe day.”

Bring on the cheerleaders.

Troubador

Monday, October 24, 2005

Last but not least


All of the pics that were posted before were where we have competed. These next are places that we were invited as guest artists

We performed at a New Years Eve concert with Eric Kunzel and the Cincinnati Pops
























We were invited to sing at the Chicago Theater. The backstage area is fascinating





This is the Riverbend Music Center, where we did a Fourth of July concert with Keith Lockhart and the Cincy Pops. Just as a side note, Lockhart is an ass.




We sang the National Anthem at a Reds Game













The one that is the biggest deal for most people is the last one




Carnegie Hall. If you haven't made it, you havent played it.


You may all applaud now












Troubador

Places continued






Since I can't seem to get more than 5 pics per publish, I will have to break this up

Since 2001, we have gone to the following venues



Above was the convention Center in Nashville



















This is the Portland Rose Garden













This was the Montreal Convention Center


We also went back to Lousiville, but you have seen that already


One more set

The places I have been


I started my illustrious singing carreer in 1990. I was thinking about all the places I have seen since then, and since this blog is all about me, thought I would share them with you.

1990 San Francisco

We placed 4th





1991 Lousiville Kentucky

We placed 2nd

















1992 New Orleans

World Champions














1993 Calgary, Alberta
Retiring World Champions














1995 Miami Beach, 5th Place Bronze Medal














I took a break for school after 1995.

Sunday, October 23, 2005

Oh the irony of it all

This spring when the quartet formed, I decided way ahead of time, that if the quartet would qualify for the District contest, the chorus would have to find someone else to haul the riser trailer to Charleston.

I started laying the groundwork for this early. I really did not want to leave them hanging, but like my recent posts said, I am really hard nosed and focussed when it comes to quartet, and I did not want to be disturbed to move the trailer, or go look for something or whatever when I was supposed to be rehearsing.


Yesterday and today the chorus did two benefit concerts. I found out yesterday that one of the geniuses that tried to help out in Charleston ran over a curb or something and destroyed one of the trailer wheels. He not only ruined the tire, he bent the rim all to shit.

When I got a good look at the back of the van, someone probably genius, had jackknifed the trailer, and creased the rear bumper.

When he changed the tire on the trailer, he left the jack and all the accessories roll around in the back of the van. They are still there, probably getting grease all over everything.

When I got a good look at the trailer in the daylight today, it looks like genius also bent the axle.

I can't win.

I will have to take the trailer to the trailer company to have this all fixed.

I think someone in the chorus might have paid him to do all of this so I will think twice the next time before I opt out of driving the trailer. Its just not worth the hassle

Troubador

Friday, October 21, 2005

Things about me

Like Paul Harvey says, "For What its worth..."

1. I was born January 9, 1966
2. I am 6’2. I have blonde hair and blue eyes
3. The doctor’s scale says I weigh 245 lbs. Doctor’s scales lie
4. I was adopted
5. I don’t know who my biological parents are
6. I don’t care
7. I have one sister, who was also adopted.
8. She broke my parent’s hearts.
9. I have forgiven her for this, but I will not forget it
10. I have worked for the family company for the last 15 years.
11. The company is in trouble.
12. I think it partially my fault.
13. I could move on, but feel that I am morally bound to try and fix this mess.
14. Our company has lost $500,000..00 due to theft and fraud. That money belongs to my parents. I should hate the people that did this, but I can’t. Its not in my nature.
15. My favorite color is blue
16. I am somewhat of a control freak when it comes to me.
17. I think I have some psychic ability, in that I can read a person and know what they are thinking without them telling me.
18. I am Catholic
19. I had considered being a priest, but I wanted a family
20. I was put in this world to make music. I live it, eat it, breathe it, and love it like nothing else.
21. I hate crowds, but love to teach and perform for people. I don’t understand this.
22. I will be 40 soon. This bothers me a lot
23. I am deeply in debt. I am ashamed of that.
24. My house is in need of many repairs.
25. My son has a learning disability.
26. Yet I think he is a genius
27. My daughter has more talent in her little finger than I do in my whole body.
28. They are both the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me
29. My wife is not my soul mate. I don’t know why.
30. This page left blank.
31. My chorus is ranked 6th Internationally. Most people don’t know that I sing. I don’t go out of my way to tell them.
32. I never brag on myself
33. I hate to have to be the one that is always in control, yet I will take on more responsibility at the drop of a hat.
34. I don’t drink because I am afraid of losing control
35. I have never tried illegal drugs
36. I was becoming dependent on morphine after surgery
37. That scared the hell out of me
38. Part of me thinks that people who commit suicide are weak
39. I think that I am intelligent.
40. I hate it when people talk down to me
41. My favorite ice cream is butter pecan
42. Tim was my best friend.
43. He died ten years ago.
44. I carried his casket in the funeral
45. I have never recovered from that
46. That was the last time that I totally lost control
47. I like the company of women better than men. I understand women better, and I think men are for the most part superficial.
48. I like all music except for Rap
49. I cannot tolerate conflict in my house
50. I have not seen or talked to my college room mates since Tim died, and I don’t care.
51. One of my life goals is to take my family to Disney. We will be going in a month.
52. I am not afraid of dying, but I would miss my family
53. I think that God is disappointed in me
54. I have a love/hate relationship with computers
55. Pregnant women make me nervous
56. I can’t tolerate personal failure, yet I do it all the time
57. I really enjoy blogging
58. I have no idea why anyone would want to read this, or give a shit after they read it
59. I have grown very cynical in the past few years. I think it is because I see things more clearly
60. I can’t talk politics with my parents, they are liberal and I am conservative. This hurts me a lot
I could go on for a long time. Lets see what happens with this.

Monday, October 17, 2005

My kingdom for a Lead

I am not a sore loser, and I don't normally point fingers, but I have got to get this off my chest

Our quartet- newly renamed Dysfunction Junction is made up of four voice parts. These are the Lead, the Bass, the Baritone, and the Tenor. I have listed them in order of importance to the success of the quartet. Basically, if you don't have a good lead, you are cooked. Great leads have been known to carry a quartet. It is VERY rare that a quartet can be good enough to carry a poor lead and have any success.

Our lead is driving me crazy. We have been together as a quartet since March of 05. When we started to get serious about the quartet, we started getting a lot of outside coaching. One of the things that the coaches have constantly said, is that our lead is singing too hard, and needs to concentrate on an easy production of sound. Barbershop songs are known for having high, loud endings, called tags. Singers that do not have good training or good discipline tend to scream these tags. A trained ear can hear this in a minute, and will recognize that as a singing error.

When we had our first rehearsal in WV, our lead mentioned to me that he was looking forward to singing tags at the parties after the contest. He was really going to "crush" some tags is what he said. I told myself that will still needed him for the contest, so I didn't kill him on the spot.

Lead had brought his girlfriend along on this trip. The rest of us thought that this was not a bad idea. She might have been a calming influence on him, and she is a nice girl. We like her.
What we didn't realize was that Lead was going to treat this trip as a honeymoon with her. I swear he could not go 5 minutes without having his hands on her somehow. It really got nauseating after a while.

The mindset during a quartet weekend, especially at contest, is that the quartet is totally focussed on the performance, and they will spend 95% of their waking time together. This time is spent rehearsing, or talking about the performance, or listening to other performances, or whatever. The purpose is for the quartet to bond. This bond will show through in a performance, and is one of the intangible things that separates the good from the great quartets.

Our Lead has family that lives in WV. He announced that he was going to have dinner with them Saturday night. Now, granted, that we were not going to perform again until late that night, and our contest was already finished, but there was work that we could have done. This all would have been acceptable, except for the fact that he had blown off a coached rehearsal just two weeks ago, to be with this same group of his family. Baritone nearly lost his mind when he heard this.

Now, our contest performance is only two songs. Maybe a grand total of 7 minutes on stage. We have been working nearly 8 months for this moment. The last week before contest, we met 5 times to rehearse. We would have met that way for the two weeks prior to contest, except that Lead had a family vacation that he could not get out of. To make matters worse, on Friday, our travel and first round day, he still had to go into work, since he did not have any vacation days left. Oh, and did I mention that Lead has to be at work at 4 30 AM? So, his interary was work from 4-12. Then drive 4.5 hours to WV. Then rehearse, then go to dinner, then get dressed, made up, and rehearse again, Perform at 9:57, PM, and get our ass kicked by the judges.
He said he was a little tired. You think?

We slipped from 11th place to 20th place. We were beaten by three seniors quartets whose combined ages have to average 60 years old!

Continued tomorrow.....

Sunday, October 16, 2005

The weekend in review

Well, its over.

The chorus and the quartet went to West Virginia this weekend for the District Convention and Contest.

The quartet competed Friday night, and placed 20th out of 22. Not exactly the ending that we thought we might achieve.

The chorus competed Saturday afternoon, and placed 2nd, behind our arch rivals from Columbus. Percentage wise, we were only one point behind the Champs, if that is any consolation. We will still get a Wild Card bid to the International Contest next summer, so the weekend is not a total loss.

The funny(strange) part of it is, that I was and still am, so emotionally spent from the weekend with the quartet, I am not all that upset about losing.

There are some neat stories about the weekend that I will share tomorrow.

Peace,

Troubador

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

I am an INFJ

I took this survey prior to entering college. It was so accurate it was scary, and things have not changed much over the years.

Portrait of an INFJ - Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Judging(Introverted Intuition with Extraverted Feeling)
The Protector

As an INFJ, your primary mode of living is focused internally, where you take things in primarily via intuition.
Your secondary mode is external, where you deal with things according to how you feel about them, or how they fit with your personal value system.

INFJs are gentle, caring, complex and highly intuitive individuals. Artistic and creative, they live in a world of hidden meanings and possibilities. Only one percent of the population has an INFJ Personality Type, making it the most rare of all the types.

INFJs place great importance on havings things orderly and systematic in their outer world. They put a lot of energy into identifying the best system for getting things done, and constantly define and re-define the priorities in their lives. On the other hand, INFJs operate within themselves on an intuitive basis which is entirely spontaneous. They know things intuitively, without being able to pinpoint why, and without detailed knowledge of the subject at hand. They are usually right, and they usually know it. Consequently, INFJs put a tremendous amount of faith into their instincts and intuitions. This is something of a conflict between the inner and outer worlds, and may result in the INFJ not being as organized as other Judging types tend to be. Or we may see some signs of disarray in an otherwise orderly tendency, such as a consistently messy desk.

INFJs have uncanny insight into people and situations. They get "feelings" about things and intuitively understand them. As an extreme example, some INFJs report experiences of a psychic nature, such as getting strong feelings about there being a problem with a loved one, and discovering later that they were in a car accident. This is the sort of thing that other types may scorn and scoff at, and the INFJ themself does not really understand their intuition at a level which can be verbalized. Consequently, most INFJs are protective of their inner selves, sharing only what they choose to share when they choose to share it.

They are deep, complex individuals, who are quite private and typically difficult to understand. INFJs hold back part of themselves, and can be secretive.

But the INFJ is as genuinely warm as they are complex. INFJs hold a special place in the heart of people who they are close to, who are able to see their special gifts and depth of caring. INFJs are concerned for people's feelings, and try to be gentle to avoid hurting anyone. They are very sensitive to conflict, and cannot tolerate it very well. Situations which are charged with conflict may drive the normally peaceful INFJ into a state of agitation or charged anger. They may tend to internalize conflict into their bodies, and experience health problems when under a lot of stress.

Because the INFJ has such strong intuitive capabilities, they trust their own instincts above all else. This may result in an INFJ stubborness and tendency to ignore other people's opinions. They believe that they're right. On the other hand, INFJ is a perfectionist who doubts that they are living up to their full potential. INFJs are rarely at complete peace with themselves - there's always something else they should be doing to improve themselves and the world around them. They believe in constant growth, and don't often take time to revel in their accomplishments. They have strong value systems, and need to live their lives in accordance with what they feel is right. In deference to the Feeling aspect of their personalities, INFJs are in some ways gentle and easy going. Conversely, they have very high expectations of themselves, and frequently of their families. They don't believe in compromising their ideals.

INFJ is a natural nurturer; patient, devoted and protective. They make loving parents and usually have strong bonds with their offspring. They have high expectations of their children, and push them to be the best that they can be. This can sometimes manifest itself in the INFJ being hard-nosed and stubborn. But generally, children of an INFJ get devoted and sincere parental guidance, combined with deep caring.

In the workplace, the INFJ usually shows up in areas where they can be creative and somewhat independent. They have a natural affinity for art, and many excel in the sciences, where they make use of their intuition. INFJs can also be found in service-oriented professions. They are not good at dealing with minutia or very detailed tasks. The INFJ will either avoid such things, or else go to the other extreme and become enveloped in the details to the extent that they can no longer see the big picture. An INFJ who has gone the route of becoming meticulous about details may be highly critical of other individuals who are not.

The INFJ individual is gifted in ways that other types are not. Life is not necessarily easy for the INFJ, but they are capable of great depth of feeling and personal achievement.

Copyright 1998-2005 BSM Consulting
MBTI® and MYERS-BRIGGS TYPE INDICATOR® are registered trademarks and MYERS-BRIGGS™ is a trademark of Consulting Psychologists Press, Inc., the publisher of the MBTI instrument. BSM Consulting is not affiliated with and is not a licensee of Consulting Psychologists Press, Inc.

Friday, October 07, 2005

Stage Fright and other stuff

I guess I have a lot to say today, or else I am just bored shitless

I need to send a note of thanks to the Chevy dealer for putting this PC in the waiting area. At least I don't have to subject myself to Oprah while my brakes are getting worked on.


The countdown has really started. In a little over 1 week ( meaning at about 9:00 next Friday night) I will be giving the toughest musical performance of my life.

APB Quartet is scheduled to be in stage for the first round of the District Contest. If we score in the top 11, we sing again Saturday night. IF we don't, we sit.

As far as the quartet is concerned, anything too far from the top 5 is going to be a disappointment. I have mixed feelings. I have never been in a quartet, so even making it this far is exciting. On the other hand, after Divisionals, we are seeded 11th, and we knew we could do much better.

Another thing that goes through my mind when I sing with the quartet or the chorus, is that I need to excell, or the time that I have spent away from my family has been wasted. Our goal is to be the District Champions. If we fail in that, the I have failed not only my quartet, but also my family that has been so patient through all of the rehearsals. Talk about PRESSURE!

Peace

Troubador

Since you've asked....

Bek asked what the pictures meant....

#1 is a picture of Ellen, standing on the wall of the Girls Lodge at Fort Scott. She is my best friends widow. Tim proposed to her there.

I was the first one they came to tell.

I was not happy, because I didn't think that they were good for each other

I have never been so wrong in my life. God's hand was involved in that choice

#2 is a picture of the flagpole at the Boys Camp.

That is where I spent many starry nights listening to the quiet of the nearby forest, or comforting a homesick camper

#3 Shows the right side of the Boy's hill. When camp was full, we had nearly 250 boys, some of whom had never had a sleep out, or hugged a horse, or heard the noise of a cricket

#4 Shows Saint Victors Chapel. It was a place of peace and prayer and laughter and joy.

Cars and hay are stored in it for the time being

#5 Is just a desk I saw in a storage building, but it sums up my feelings pretty well

All of it will be gone soon.

I had an earlier post about Fort Scott called "Is this Heaven?"

Troubador

Thursday, October 06, 2005

Ghosts




Ghosts - Dan Fogelberg

Sometimes, in the night I feel it
Near as my next breath
And yet, untouchable

Silently the past comes stealing
Like the taste of some forbidden sweet

Along the walls; in shadowed rafters
Moving like a thought through haunted atmospheres

Muted cries and echoed laughter
Banished dreams that never sank in sleep

Lost in love and found in reason
Questions that the mind can find no answers for

Ghostly eyes conspire treason
As they gather just outside the door ...

Every ghost that calls upon us
Brings another measure in the mystery

Death is there
To keep us honest
And constantly remind us we are free


Down the ancient corridors
And through the gates of time
Run the ghosts of days
That we left behind

Down the ancient corridors
And through the gates of time
Run the ghosts of dreams
That we left behind

Sometimes, in the night I feel it
Near as my next breath and yet, untouchable
Silently the past comes stealing
Like the taste of some forbidden sweet

Every ghost that calls upon us
Brings another measure in the mystery

Death is there
To keep us honest
And constantly remind us we are free

Down the ancient corridors
And through the gates of time
Run the ghosts of days
That we left behind
















Wednesday, October 05, 2005

Hades is my hero

Most of the movies a person watches in their lifetime has a hero and a villain. Some of the best villains are the ones with the best personalities. Darth Vader was a great villain. Joker ( Jack Nicholson) was outstanding. Even The Kurgan ( Clancy Brown- Highlander) was fun to watch.

My favorite- head, shoulders, and flaming hair above the rest, was Hades from the Disney movie Hercules. He always reminds me of a volcano ready to blow, but under control because it is a better way of doing business. Push him too far though, and his servants wind up as little piles of ash with only their eyeballs left.

I keep a copy of Hercules here in my office for days like today.

I got to the office this morning at my usual time. My father, ever the early riser is always here ahead of me. Not today.

I came in, and started taking calls immediately from people that were looking for him.

One of the guys who works in the shop told me that Dad fell last night.

My father is 70, has bad knees, a heart conditition, is diabetic, is on blood thinner, and is too damned old to be falling down.

He fell last night at 5:30, and I didn't hear about it until 7:45 this morning, first from Andrew, and then from my mother when I called to get the details.

Dad fell while walking through his yard, tripping over one of those brackets that hold garden hoses. He fell into the garden that my mother has lined with river stones.
His arm is bruised to the shoulder, his hand is swollen to twice its normal size, he is having trouble breathing ( cracked ribs I think), his glasses are bent and his nose is gashed. He refuses to go to the hospital or the doctor to at least be looked over, and I can't make him go.

Now- there is a reason why all of this happened.

My parents own the property next door to their house, as a rental property.

Dad had sent two of our workers over to build a chain link fence on the property, setting
the posts in concrete.

When he got home after work, the employees had long since finished their day and gone home, he discovered concrete was left to dry in the grass, instead of cleaned up

He found that the concrete had not been trowelled properly, and also found that the concrete had been splashed on the poles and not wiped off.

Naturally he was pissed. Since concrete gets harder the longer you let it sit, he was rushing to get tools and water to clean up this mess. This is when he tripped.

This morning, when he confronted the two geniuses in question, the one I call Problem Child had the perfect response. He said" well don't blame us, you fell in your own yard."



Behind Blue Eyes

I realize it is very trite to post song lyrics, but I just could not have said it any better.


No one knows what it’s like

To be the bad man

To be the sad man

Behind blue eyes

No one knows what it’s like

To be hated

To be fated

To telling only lies

But my dreams

They aren’t as empty

As my conscience seems to be

I have hours, only lonely

My love is vengeance

That’s never free

No one knows what it’s like

To feel these feelings

Like I doAnd I blame you

No one bites back as hard

On their anger

None of my pain and woe

Can show through

But my dreams

They aren’t as empty

As my conscience seems to be

I have hours, only lonely

My love is vengeance

That’s never free

When my fist clenches, crack it open

Before I use it and lose my cool

When I smile, tell me some bad news

Before I laugh and act like a fool

If I swallow anything evil

Put your finger down my throat

If I shiver, please give me a blanket

Keep me warm, let me wear your coat

No one knows what it’s like

To be the bad man

To be the sad man

Behind blue eyes



Troubador

Monday, October 03, 2005

Mustang or Corvette?

The Weekend in Review

I work for a family owned company. Sometimes things get sprung on me at the last minute. Since I have never worked anywhere else, I am not sure if this happens other places, but it has taught me to be fast on my feet when making plans for the weekend. As I was leaving for lunch on Friday, Dad asks me if I can get his truck in to the dealer over the weekend for an oil lube and filter. "No Problem." I figured that I would get to the dealer early enough that I could be back in time to catch the kid's soccer game.

I get over to Dad's house to pick up the truck, hoping that I could get away quickly, as I was already running late. Fat chance. It took 20 minutes to clean out the cab of the truck. Dad was simply convinced that the evil mechanics at the Chevy dealer were going to spend every spare second they had stealing the change out of the console.

I drove to the dealer and found a seat in the waiting room. I am not much of a television person, and apparently the dealership was aware of that since the set in the waiting room would tune in two channels. I was faced with the choice between Tele Tubbies and yoga.

I chose Car and Driver, which is about like picking up the Q book of the encyclopedia. They could at least have had National Geographic so I could look at the naked pygmies.

15 minutes pass. I remind myself "This is not Jiffy Lube"
30 minutes pass. I am pacing. I amuse myself by watching another family come in and wait for their vehicle. Mother is avidly watching the telly tubbies and commenting on how cute they are. Grandpa and Grandson are busily shovelling McDonald's biscuits and gravy into their mouths, and arguing, between bites, which is better, a Mustang or a Corvette.

The batteries in Grandpa's hearing aids must have been dead.

Grandson has a speech impediment causing him to lisp.

Neither one ever learned not to talk with their mouths full.

Ever been to Sea World, and noticed how the first few seats were designated "Splash Zone"?


I took a walk around the parking lot.



53 minutes after I walked in, the truck was ready.



I got to the soccer fields in time to see about the last 5 minutes of both games.

Happy Saturday to you too...