What separates us from the primates…

Authors note: This is not directed at any individual, living or dead. It is based on a series of observations over the last week. The use of the word “you” does not refer necessarily to “you” the reader, but more general “you” directed at the general public.

I’ve had two separate people tell me over the course of the last week some variation of the phrase, “you can’t always lead with your head.” I call bullshit. I call bullshit on the people who stumble blindly through life from one thing to the next because they’re “following their heart.” I call bullshit on people who turn left instead of right because “they have a feeling.” I call bullshit on a society that values luck over skill and mediocrity over greatness.

People, listen up, because your Uncle Jeff is only gonna go over this material one time. And yes, before someone asks, it will be on the test. Look in the mirror. Do you see that great big melon-looking rock sitting atop your neck? That’s your head. It’s where your brain lives. Your brain is useful for completing all sorts of tasks like addition, breathing, and general problem solving. Your brain, unlike that of say, a swallow, is well developed and provides you with the ability, when used correctly, to apply reason and intellect to even the most difficult of situations. The human brain has developed over millions of years to protect the rest of the body from writing checks that are too expensive to cash.

The ability to apply reason is what separates us from our primate cousins. It’s why we have built civilizations while they pick fleas off one another. I’m not saying that the heart or the spleen or the liver can’t be the point of inspiration, but it’s up to the brain to take that inspiration and flesh it out. It’s through reason that we come to understand the inspiration and impulses for what they are. It’s our intellect and our ability to make the hard decisions without getting waylaid that fundamentally makes us human.

Use your heart, or your intuition, or your ESP for all I care. But at the end of the day, try running things through your brain first before you declare the decision making process to be at an end. Try leading with your head for a change. You might be surprised.

I’m booorrrrred…

I don’t mind being tired when I have a good reason. Things haven’t been unusually busy at the office, the house has pretty well come together, there isn’t anything just sitting out there screaming to be done right now, today. Everything is utterly and completely “normal” and I wonder sometimes if that isn’t when I get tired. It’s like I need something causing a degree of chaos to keep a stable level of adrenalin in the system. When things aren’t running a thousand miles an hour, all I want to do is crawl into bed and take a nap. Actually, that sounds like a fantastic idea. If anyone needs me, I’ll be sleeping like a stone.

On my side of the fence…

It’s taken thrice weekly watering, half a dozen applications of fertilizer since early March, weekly trimmings from the lawn service, and going nearly bankrupt to pay for water bills, but my lawn is finally greener than the neighbors. That’s not to say it’s green, however. The 13 inch rain deficit in Memphis has helped assure that it probably won’t reach that milestone any time soon. But it is a better shade of dark yellow than the next guy, so I’m formally declaring victory.

All shook up…

One of the really problematic parts of what I do, is that it requires spending a fair amount of your life thinking about all the worst things that can happen… famine, pestilence, earthquake, plague; basically the worst parts of the Bible. After a while you start looking at everything around you and playing a giant game of “what if.” From a purely academic point of view, it’s great fun to match wits against the worst that God and nature can throw against us. From an individual point of view, it’s the kind of thing that leads to ulcers. Finding that delicate balance between academic interest and outright obsession has never been one of my talents. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go to Costco and stock up on bottled water and beef jerky.

Jitters…

OK, so I’m man enough to admit my own weaknesses here in front of God, my blog readers, and everyone… I’m nervous as shit about the whole first date thing. I haven’t been on a “real” first date in the better part of two years. The solution to that issue, of course, is to do my research. I want to pause here and say what a wonderful thing the internet is… I mean, it’s so much more than just porn when you actually take the time to look around a little.

I live my life by Google. If Google doesn’t know the answer, I don’t really need to either. Unfortunately, the advice from Google on first dates is slightly contradictory… Be nice… but not too nice; be a gentleman, but don’t open doors; pick up the tab, but think about splitting the bill so there’s “no pressure.”

No pressure? You’re shitting me, right? I’ll consider myself lucky if I only avoid spilling my entre in my lap tomorrow. I’m going in. Keep me covered.

Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition…

Authors Warning: This is an atypical post. It is not a rant. It is not a review of either foreign or domestic policy. It is not an impassioned soliloquy about the small injustices of life. It is quite simply something I have never written before. You have been warned.

It’s funny how people come along when you least expect them. It’s even more surprising when you can spend all day chatting with them and wonder where the time went. Stranger still, when you look forward to the next text message or email and think ten minutes is too long to wait. It’s strange ground for someone whose stock in trade is being cold under pressure and unflappable in the face of adversity.

I feel like I’m 16 years old again and walking around the alma mater with a dopy grin on my face… yup, yup, yup (A few of you guys might have actually gotten that reference, but you’d have to have been there a long time ago for it to make any sense at all, I suppose). I’m working hard to process things with the rational part of my brain, but all that keeps occurring to me are tired analogies jumbled with a hundred other thoughts including that I could be making a giant ass of myself right here in the pages of my very own blog. Of course at the moment, I’m going to block out that thought and carry on happily oblivious to that issue.

The more pressing issue, is what the hell do you actually do when you’ve met someone you want to know better. Punching her and running to the other side of the playground seems inappropriate somehow and I’m not about to scale the local water tower to paint anything on its side. I’ve been so focused on the other things that quite frankly I think I’ve forgotten how adults are supposed to flirt. Hell, at this point, I’d settle for inept teenage flirting skills.

I’ve gone about my life writing off this kind of possibility. It’s the one crisis I haven’t spent any time thinking about. I wasn’t expecting the Spanish Inquisition.

Then again, nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.

If I had a hammer…

If you were thinking this post would include a link to some kind of damned dirty hippy music, you’re a moron. I actually learned an important lesson about self-restraint today. For the record, it’s best to avoid Home Depot on the Monday of three-day weekends. I knew better, but there were a few odds and ends I needed to pick up. One of those things was a 5-pound sledge so I can shape the stone that’s being delivered tomorrow. The other was a rubber mallet so I could level the stone and use it as lawn edging. The real danger here is the confluence of three factors: 1) Home Depot on a holiday weekend; 2) a rubber mallet in my left hand; and 3) a 5-pound sledge in my right hand.

I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t some nascent desire to start swinging the above mentioned hand tools at some of my fellow customers. I don’t know why I continue to be surprised by the complete inability of people in general to perform more than one simple task at a time (i.e. walking and talking with the person who came with them). I thing just one soul-satisfying “thwack” of cold steel meeting noggin, would give me an indelible feeling of inner peace. Once again my heart-stopping fear of prison and sodomy have kept me on the straight and narrow. Damn you social contract! Damn you!

Getting the good light…

Most of you know that I’ve always harbored a secret love of photography. And now that I’m looking at DC with less of a jaundiced eye, I am finding some really good shots. It’s hard to think about taking pictures when all that’s on your mind is dashing to the Metro and getting to your car before the rush home starts in earnest. The last couple of days, I’ve had time to really walk around the monumental core of the city and watch how the light moves on it. With so much sculptural detail, it’s a really magnificent study in shadow and depth. Just sitting at the reflecting pool, or lurking in the trees along the north and south ends of the building give you a chance to get a sense of the building. I think the ones I posted here are a good example set of what I took early yesterday evening.

I’ve always liked to take pictures early in the morning or late in the afternoon. Getting the good horizontal light that softens the edges without sacrificing detail. Sure, you can shoot tourist shots at high noon and be perfectly happy with getting Aunt Franny and Uncle Cletus in the frame with the bottom half of the dome. You can even control aperture speed to compensate for the harsh mid-day light, but you lose something in the translation. I’ve never quite figured out how to keep everything from washing out on the edges even at high speed. For me, the hour between 6 and 7 is almost perfect; exhausted tourists are heading off to dinner and most of the staffers have started to clear out. And you have this window of opportunity where the sidewalks are deserted, the light is perfect. If you’re quick, you can even manage to avoid getting the ubiquitous Capitol Police in the picture. Pictures with people are a pet peeve of mine… I want pictures of the thing, not the thousands of jackasses who came to see the thing. Any time I can get some good pictures, unobstructed by Skippy and Suzy Dragknuckle and their 3 kids, I’ve had a good day.

It’s a show about nothing…

After a full 24 hours of having no commitments other than showing up to work at what seems like the ridiculously late hour of 8:30, and walking around Capitol Hill for the better part of an hour and a half taking pictures, and walking to the Chinese place down the street for General Tso’s, it occurs to me that when I don’t have class (and don’t really have any reason to work OT), I have absolutely no idea what to do with myself. I think someone once referred to the concept as “free time.” I don’t really even have clue one what I want to do. Well, that’s not entirely true, but in the interests of maintaining this blog’s PG-13 rating, I’ll spare you the details.

Suffice to say that it’s taken a grand total of 24 hours for me to start going stir crazy. I just can’t quite shake the feeling that I should be doing something. I’m not sure, but I think I might have the DTs.