Mind Vomit by the ikss ~ a journal
HeaderTuesday, Mar. 18, 2003
The ikss Bio
The last few dribbles...
good-bye diaryland -
Social Security -
save the arctic refuge -
it's surreal -
the latest entry
Contact the ikss
~ the ikss guestbook ~
email the ikss
notes to the ikss
New here? Start here
The Usual Suspects (Cast)
the ikss Mission Statement: Please Read
the ikss bio
the ikss profile, including favorite diaryland links
somebody out there loves me
“Once in his life, every man is entitled to fall madly in love with a gorgeous redhead”
"To announce that there must be no criticism of the President, or that we are to stand by the President, right or wrong, is not only unpatriotic and servile, but is morally treasonable to the American public."
--Theodore Roosevelt, 1918
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"The time is always right to do what is right"
- Martin Luther King, Jr.
"The "seven social sins": Knowledge without character,
Science without humanity,
Wealth without work,
Commerce without morality,
Politics without principles,
Pleasure without conscience,
Worship without self-sacrifice."
"We have not inherited the world from our forfathers -
We have borrowed it from our children."
My Bio...such as it is|
How insane is this?
If you’ve gotten this far, you probably already know that I’m in my late-thirties and live in S. California. What you probably don’t know is how I got here.
Although not born in California, I’ve lived here since the age of two. While I would say that makes me a “native”, I feel about as far from what I presume a Native Californian feels like as possible. I’ve just never felt like I fit in around these parts. Maybe it’s all the blonde hair and saline everywhere…
Anyway, I won’t bore you with too many details except to say that I never graduated from a university. I still go to school, on occasion, although frankly I am doing little as far as working toward that degree. I really just go to take classes that interest me. Yes, I am one of those weirdos. I like school. At least, I like it now...I hated school until I reached college; so I guess that means I’m not too much of a weirdo.
I work as an Assistant Credit Manager. This means that I do three main things:
1. Credit and Financial Statement Analysis
2. Collections and Account Reconciliation
3. Kick Butt
This essentially means that I evaluate companies’ financial condition and assign them deserved Credit Lines with my company; when those companies fail to pay their bills on time they hear from me; when those companies have questions or accounting concerns about their account, they can turn to me for assistance; I make sure everyone else in my department is doing their jobs.
What a gas, eh? Don’t even ask me how I got in to this position. I was led along by…hell, I don’t even know which body part would lead someone in to being a Credit Manager. I wanted to be a rock star or at the very least a well-respected writer with a couple of Pulitzers under my belt at this stage in my life. Instead?
Ah, I have a good job and can’t complain. It pays the bills, which is a lot more than an awful lot of people can say in this world of ours, so…
OK, the whole “rock star” thing…
I’ve always loved music – all kinds. It was Bruce Springsteen who first made me feel like I should make it for a living. Blame him.
As far back as I can remember (which isn’t that far, in all honesty. I’ve got this whole “can’t remember much of my childhood” thing going on, but we’ll cover that later) I’ve written stuff. I won a blue ribbon at an Arts Fair when I was in second grade for writing a story called, I believe, “Super Bug”. It was about, you guessed it, a bug with super-powers. In Jr. High I was writing screenplays starring me and Al Pacino. When I was like 10 I discovered that I could also sing rather well. I had a chorus class in sixth grade (would that make me ten?) and we all had to sing a solo. When I took my turn at the guillotine, I found that the class was actually listening to me. They were paying attention and it wasn’t to mock me.
Miracle of miracles.
So then I saw Bruce when I was like 13 (my first real rock concert, unless you count Gordon Lightfoot and bless his Canadian soul, but he ain’t exactly rockin’) and figured out…hmm…so maybe I can put the singing and the writing together and that way while people are actually paying attention to me (without mocking), maybe I can talk to them about what I actually want to talk about instead of the meaningless crap we say to each other every day.
So then what? The only band I was in which is worth mentioning (meaning it lasted longer then six months and gave me some artistic gratification) is/was “Mocositos”. I formed this little musical endeavor with a dude called Mike. Two other dudes – Lou on guitar and bass and Robert on drums – kind of wandered in and out of the picture. When they weren’t around, Mocositos was basically the folk duo of Mike and Me (although really I prefer the term punk-folk because we were never simply a folk duo). We wrote some really cool songs and a couple lame ones, but had to break up. Lots of inner-turmoil and drama, but none of it really matters any more, so I’ll spare you that boredom. Suffice it to say that I still see Mike on occasion and still go see him play with his band(s) (when he bothers to tell me about gigs that is).
After Mocositos came a few years of withdrawn, self-contemplation and celibacy. Believe it or not, both of these were valid choices I made for myself.
Usually. OK, sometimes the celibacy thing came down to a lack of opportunity, but generally I preferred to stay sex-less during this time period.
Then came John.
We met at aforementioned Mike’s birthday bash some seven years ago. We moved in with each other 6 ½ years ago. We moved into separate residences about 30 months ago. We still see each other. Don’t ask.
And that pretty much brings me to where I am now. Taking classes, trying to get a new band off the ground, doing well in my first year on the new job, driving around in a new car (first one since 1989. Can you say – it’s-about-damn-time?), little by little getting the new pad painted and trying, sometimes in vain, to find little reasons to be happy in a world full of big ones not to.