This and That  

Maybe it's the convenient nature of microblogging (because we need another blogging term) through sites like Twitter and Tumblr, but I find the idea of doing this kind of potpourri post very appealing right now. Then again let's not exclude the opium as a contributing factor either.


I doubt anyone will challenge me when I say that my last post completely derailed somewhere after the first paragraph. I suppose I just had something to say about language, communication, and how both are in a constant state of degradation nowadays. If you stop and think about it, it's pretty ironic that I wasn't able to convey this point in a cohesive manner. Ever since last Friday -- when I purchased and began reading Pride and Prejudice and Zombies -- I've had an increased sense of awareness in how people talk now vs. back then. I should keep reminding myself that the explicit nature of their dialogue was at least partially driven by the fact that most of them died in their thirties. No time to waste on "ums" and LOLs.


I had a brief conversation with a co-worker on the shuttle bus recently. Initial pleasantries gave way to questions about life and family, and after hearing of my children the talk landed on him and his own desire to be father someday. He expressed that turning 30 really felt like a milestone in this quest, and that if he didn't have kids in the next five years there would be considerable doubt as to his ability to keep up with them physically. It was also added that one of the most important factors to him personally was being able to keep the family name alive, as he was the only son in the family. My response to him was "But your last name is Smith. I have a good feeling that the name will do just fine without you." For some reason this killed our conversation dead on the spot, ushering in a very awkward remainder of the ride.


Last week I saw a guy on the bus who was sporting one of the most absurd mullets I've ever seen. Quite the feat considering I grew up in Texas. It was only when he exited the bus that I caught glimpse of his shirt, which read "Mullets: Good Enough for Jesus, Good Enough for Me." I really should just start taking my camera out the moment I get on the bus.


Yesterday my neighbor across the street, the older fella (yes he has stringy gray hair) who lives with his Mom in a Winnebago instead of their home, got out to inspect a trouble spot underneath the house:

Shortly after capturing this memory with the camera, we all piled into the car to go to the park. It was then we saw that it was actually the mother who was climbing out from under the Winnebago. Meaning I had been photographing 8o year old ass. And yes, forcing all of you to look at it just now does make me feel a little better about it.

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