Troll’s Hole

Again I come to that time of the week where I feel the need to write something pithy, meaningful, or insightful.

I usually end up with drivel, but I plug away. I don’t really to this for others, I do it for me. That way I only have to satisfy my harshest critic: Myself. I feel that there is a place in this world for more drivel.

And in the NEWS….

I am not happy with the media’s fascination with ‘The Gloved One’ taking the final moon walk. They are following his every move after he is dead. How challenging. I was never a great fan, but I think that now that he is passed we might just try to show more respect than postmortem idol worship and morbid obsession.

Any way you look at him, he was damaged. Whether by fame, gender dysfunction, abusive parents, an imagined excess of melanin in his skin, or being just fucked up, he was obviously not normal. Now he is not alive and he will remain that way.

“Birth is the original terminal disease.” – Me

I say let’s let the poor damaged bastard rest in peace and move on with OUR lives instead of reliving the highs and lows of his life.

We also seem obsessed with Iran and the election and following protests. I think we all know what is going to happen. Why are we so fascinated in seeing the obvious come about? Let’s have a daily news story about the sun coming up or going down to make us feel informed.

On that note; go to this site. It is very informative and presses the point to places even I never went.
http://www.dhmo.org/facts.html

So says the Troll.

Back when I was a sprout I was told by teachers and other people that I should aspire to a career. I wanted to become an inventor, thinking up cool gadgets and fiddling with inventor junk until I came up with something patentable to make my fortune and a secure future. I wanted to be Ron Popeil’s dad. I wanted to be Edison or Tesla or the guy that invented the hook and loop fastener. If I were a kid today I would want my invention to be pitched by two guys that have their own TV show on the Discovery Channel.

That all went out the window when my high school guidance counselor took offence at my subtle joke about a carrot and his toilet training during a mentoring session. High school administrative people seldom seem to have a sense of humor. This man had even less than most. He failed me and killed my aspirations.

During a company training session a few weeks ago, I had to take one of those tests that tell you what kind of personality you have. I was confused when I scored ‘creative’ on three out of three sets. No one else in the room came close to three out of three in anything, let alone creative.

Maybe I missed my calling by not sticking to my guns and making a basement laboratory with incomprehensible electric gadgets and flickering lights. I could have been that weird guy down the street that is collecting snail slime from the neighborhood yards in little blue glass jars. I could be comfortable with being that way if I had a lot of money.

It seems that was not in the cards.

Instead, I have become a foreman for a national specialty subcontractor. That means that my company purchases and installs specialty items for construction companies. “What is a specialty item?” you might ask. A specialty item is anything from anodized angle brackets to zippered zebra skin doors. It can be anything that an architect can want and imagine. (A strange lot)

I worked my way to being a foreman with this company. I did not grease my way into the position by kissing asses and performing deviant sexual acts for morons. I simply took my job seriously and did the best I could and worked at my job every day. They decided that they trusted me enough to let me run work for them in different states.

When I think back to the projects that I have worked on and the things that I have accomplished, I find that I don’t miss being an inventor one damn bit.

Is that what they call ‘job satisfaction’?

Why do I always get all the stupid questions?

I have to keep explaining to people that I don’t know what someone else was thinking when they made this decision or that decision that does not seem to make any sense. How in hell would I know what someone else was thinking? Do they think I have a secret mirror that looks into people’s brains that I have not told myself about? They should ask the person that is actually involved with that decision making process and leave me the hell out of it!

I usually respond to a stupid question with this line; “I don’t know, but perhaps you can answer something for me; why would God put a wet runny think like your nose right over your mouth?”

They seldom get it. Sarcasm and irony are wasted on most people.

I am always surprised at the lack of thought that goes into everyday life. In the new day and age, people seem to think that they should be handed the answers to everything and that thinking is too hard. If you give someone a problem to solve, they will ask you to give them the solution before you are finished describing the problem.

I just don’t get it.

Have we become so lazy as a society that even something as inactive as thinking is too hard? Has the age of instant gratification made thinking too difficult? Has TV ruined our brains and turned them into semi functioning jello-like substance that barely succeeds in keeping our skulls full of something?

“The conclusion is where you got tired of thinking” seems to sum up how we look at problems. This is usually occurs right after we begin and before we actually do something.

I used to think that schools were supposed to teach these things, but learned that they do not and have no intention to. It’s too hard.

“You can lead a child to knowledge, but you can’t make him think.”

I began a rather pithy and bitter post, but failed to finish it in a blaze of bah fucking humbug.

Since my escape from Hell, I have been trying to make some changes in my life. I am trying to be a better husband, a better man, and get in better shape.

These things take time and energy. The funny thing about getting in better shape is that the more you exercise, the more you CAN exercise. A few weeks ago it was effort to just get through one workout with the Mrs. and not walk like an old man with hip problems. Yesterday we worked out and I felt great after we were done and even mustered the energy to go for a short bicycle ride later in the day.

Progress is being made.

My work life is rather boring right now (Which is a very good thing) and I am only working eight hour days. This seems like a vacation after the long days that I worked for a long time. I intend to take advantage of this time and relax. I am certain that I will be called to work long hours again soon.

I have been writing more, but very little makes it to here. I fit in my writing mostly in the wee hours before the rest of the word wakes, and that limits what gets done.

But I am working on it. This makes me feel better and I am sure that there is more material for here in the near future.