musings of wrath

yay..

mind no longer warping..

oh wait..

never would be too soon to see another serial number.

ugh.. I have to post my cam number on mailing lists.

doot.

Is it me, or have there been a rather large amount of posts expressing a bad mood today?

Sheesh.. I’ve had stressful days, and have been in a bad mood, but if *everyone* is going to be in a bad mood, it’s my duty to be an individual, and be happy, dammit.

Now don’t any of you go and ruin it by becoming happy.

simply the best flash application I’ve ever seen…

Here

I hate inventory. I really do.

by the one who talks the most about protecting our liberties.

I, personally, am outraged, and encourage folks to call their Senators and Representatives about this, and express their own outrage.

http://www.latimes.com/la-oe-turley14aug14.story

From the LA Times:

This week, the government refused to comply with a federal judge who ordered that he be given the underlying evidence justifying Hamdi’s treatment. The Justice Department has insisted that the judge must simply accept its declaration and cannot interfere with the president’s absolute authority in “a time of war.”

WHAT?? Was their a declaration of Martial Law? Why hasn’t FEMA been activated, if that’s the case? What the hell is going on up there in DC?

This is NOT what this nation was founded upon. I don’t care if they ARE suspects in the worst crime against the US in my living memory, they STILL have rights when they are on US soil.. even POW’s get rights, even if other nations don’t give them.

I got 2 hours of sleep saturday night.

Ugh.

We still aren’t receiving our bills at the apartment - what the heck is up with the USPS? They claim they’ve not held anything back from delivery, and, obviously, the utility companies have our address correct (they gave us a shut off notice for the water last week, we took care of that immediately), so what’s the deal?

Any ideas? I have a theory that a previous resident set up a change of address form, and didn’t fill it out properly.

My second theory - someone’s stealing our mail while we’re at work.

A Swedish man died Tuesday when he was buried alive under a
13-ton pile of peas in a storage silo, local media reported.
The man, who was around 30 years old, was working on an
electrical installation on a farm near the town of Mjolby in
southeastern Sweden when the peas were dumped on him.

Rescue workers pulled the man from the silo but were unable to
revive him, a radio station reported.

The other day, I made a comment to when the concern of “LJ leading to a larger ego” came up. Here’s what I said:

ego - thinking yourself better than 10% of the population of the earth - whether it’s better looking or a better person determines whether or not people will like your ego.

Hmm.. I could go for hours on this discussion.

And I think I’ll go further.

I should note, first, I am not a pyschologist. This is just gathered from my observations of people over the years.

First, the importance of a name. Do you know what word a person like to hear more than any other? (This is especially true for women, I don’t know why, maybe it’s the way they think?) Their name. This doesn’t have to be their birth name, some people hate their birth name. It could be a nick name they like, or a name they go by, such as their middle name. Whatever name they identify as themselves, they like to hear it.

I think this goes a long way to say what the ego really is. It’s the identification of self. A strong ego has a strong identification of self. Therefore, what the self identifies as its name will be liked.

There’s another side to the importance of a name. Let me give an example of sorts. If you’ve been in love (and I can say the most of the audience of this has been), how did you react to the name of the one you loved being said? Some may have reacted angrily (out of envy), sadly (out of disappointment/lacking), or even happily (returned love or interest). There’s numerous ways that one could react, those are just a few. That shows how the self identifies names of others it cares for, or thinks it cares for. (Yes, I know that’s a dangler, but I couldn’t think of another way to say it). Think of someone you hate (if you are capable of it, I know some who aren’t), and think about their name. How does that make you feel? Why? Ask yourself this. Some of you it may not matter, some of you will have strong feelings towards that name. Think, why so much importance on a name, when it isn’t the person?

I’ll give a personal example. plays a character that shares my father’s name. When I heard that name, I shocked myself when I felt honored, in a way, instead of angry or hurt, reminded of my father’s death. I may not like the character, but at least folks speak my father’s name again. I suppose that means I’ve grown up since I lost my father, I don’t know.

Next, the “ego”, in terms of “having an ego”. There are several ways this can be seen. Some people think they are better than others, it’s to the degree, and in what way, that matters to me. If someone thinks they’re better than a small population of people, because they’re kinder, more generous, or just an all around good person, that’s great - they deserve it. It’s called self-esteem, not an “ego”. That’s where I’d say falls. Good self-esteem, not an ego.

Then there’s folks I can’t stand. Those that think they’re better than others simply because they’re “better looking’ than a large portion of the population. I can understand some vanity, as long as it’s realistic and grounded. But come on, there are people out there that honestly believe they are the most attractive person on the planet! That’s not vanity - that’s insanity.

On top of that, there’s folks who think they’re just a better person than the majority, or all, of the population. I can’t stand that either. Again, that’s not self-esteem, that’s self-gratification. Some might call it “ego masturbation”.

I have a friend who is talked about behind her back, because folks think she’s self-centered and egotistical. No. She’s not. She’s attractive, knows it, and understands that she’s not the only one. It doesn’t happen much anymore, but I used hear folks talking about her, and I’d tell them to shut up, they don’t know her. I got to know her, and discovered a wonderful person that may have some self-esteem in the area of beauty, but has a bit of a deficit in the area of “good person” self-esteem. Yes, she knows she’s a good person, but she doesn’t give herself the credit she deserves all the time.

Hmm.. I don’t know what else I can say on all this. Hopefully, someone will read this and realize that they’re either, a) more special than they think, b) not as special as they think, and need to come down to earth a little, or c) stop making assumptions without getting to know someone.

I’ll admit, I have fallen victim to “c”, but try hard not to do it. I find it odd that sometimes I end up being the only “geek” who likes, as a person, someone other geeks say is “egotistical”; I also find it odd that I’ve been, on occasion, the only person who was nice to someone that others, basically, picked on.

People suck - egos are ok, though.

I think I’ll write something today.

Jason woke up with a start, and looked around, lost in his own bedroom for a moment. His eyes went to the clock and stared without recognition at the strange symbols on the device. When the haze of half-sleep finally departed, it became clear he was over an hour late for work. He better get started. He slipped out of the bed, trying not to disturb Kelly.

The first thing he grabbed was his fake gold watch, slipping it over his wrist, and making one small adjustment. He glanced around the room looking for his slacks, some of the haze still remaining. He spotted them sprawled over his miniature fridge, beer spilled dangerously close. Slipping them on, he began the search for a shirt that at least appeared clean. Hanging over the shower curtain rod, he found his favorite DKNY shirt, with no sign of any stains. Smiling, he pulled it on, noting to himself how great silk felt. He went back to Kelly, lying still in the bed, and leaned down close, and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll miss you today.” She didn’t stir, and he smiled at this.

Jason charged down the stairs, grabbing some socks along the way, and grabbed his shoulder holster and police-issue Glock pistol. He pushed some random junk mail off of the love seat and sat down to put on his shoes and socks, when he heard his pager going off. “They can wait,” he said to the empty room, finishing his task. Checking the chamber of the Glock, he strapped on the holster, put on the safety, and stowed the pistol under his arm.

He grabbed a barely-matching sport coat off of the coat rack as he went out the door, throwing it over his shoulders as he got into his 1985 Honda. The model didn’t matter, they all looked the same then.

* * *

The drive to work was hell, the 405 packed with cars from one end of the county to the other. It’s going to be a long day, he thought to himself. After about an hour of slow moving, he finally got to see what the problem was. On the side of the road, several officers were looking over the crime scene. He decided to pull over and see if he could assist. It wasn’t his jurisdiction, but that didn’t matter. He could probably provide some insight to the situation.

As he approached the scene, the officer in charge held up a hand, to which he held up his badge, cutting off any denial of entry the Sergeant was going to offer. Instead, he said, “What do you want here? This isn’t federal.”

“I don’t want jurisdiction. I want to see if I can help. We’re not all bad guys, you know.” Jason smiled, as if to prove it. “Not to mention, I don’t live far from the scene, I’d like to know if there’s someone I should look out for in my neighborhood.”

“Only if you’ve got a neighborhood filled with psychos. Whoever did this has got some serious issues.” The sergeant looked pale, as if the thought of what lay a few yards a way was truly disturbing him. “There’s no body, just.. parts.”

Jason frowned, “No body? How can we be sure the victim is dead?”

“Kinda hard to live without your heart. The weird part is, there’s not much blood.” The sergeant looked around to see if anyone was listening. He leaned forward, “The sick-o even cut off a few fingers, so we’d know it was human remains. I think we got another possible serial here. Only the weird ones go serial.”

Jason thought for a moment. “That’s true. Can I take a look at the scene?”

“Sure, we’re still gathering evidence, so be careful. And try not to step on any pieces.”

Jason nodded, and ground his teeth to steel himself as he walked over to the scene. He stepped carefully around the small spots of blood staining the new concrete, and stopped when he saw the bags of organs and minor appendages. One of the fingers had a wedding band on it. Looking around, he reached for the bag and picked it up, looking at it carefully. He slipped open the bag, still looking around, and reached into the bloody mess, pulling out the ring, and slipped it into his pocket.

* * *

He couldn’t offer much at the scene, but it was an excuse for being late to the office. He hadn’t expected the police to be waiting for him, however. They were sitting in his office, the deputy director with them, in his chair.

“Can I help you?” he asked, closing the door behind him. He smiled, feeling like prey surrounded by predators.

“They want to see the bottom of your shoes, Jason. And I want to know why you’re not wearing your issues,” the deputy director said as he stood up and walked over to Jason. He looked down, “What are these? Italian?”

“Made in Genoa,” Jason smiled, and picked up one foot, showing it to one of the officers, who nodded to the rest of them.

“Don’t leave town, Agent Henson. We’ll have you a warrant served by this afternoon.”

“What? What for?” Jason felt a little nervous, but knew they couldn’t possibly get a warrant to search his home by this afternoon. After all, they’d have to get it from Kelly’s father. She would be furious if he let the police tear through the house.

“We don’t have the body, but we’ll find it. You really shouldn’t wear issued shoes when you commit a crime,” the sergeant said. He held up a polaroid of a foot print in a small puddle of blood.

Of all the places of his shoe for that three inch diameter spot of blood to touch, it had to be the edge of the heel - where he had engraved his name in the leather at the academy.

If she wasn’t already dead, Kelly would kill him.

… or don’t.