Friday, February 29, 2008

A Few Thoughts for Friday


1. The first thing I thought when I woke up to reality this morning: "Fuck."

2. The second thought: Never trust anything that bleeds from the crotch once a month.

3. I scored some pretty good seats for the Kanye/Lupe concert. Now I have to wait more than two months for May 9th to arrive.

4. This weekend could get interesting.

5. I hate the truth, even though I hate people who lie to me. If the truth is going to kick me in the stomach and punch me in the testicles, keep lying to me. There are occasions where ignorance truly is bliss. I can attest to this.

6. Why do I keep trying when the end result has proven time and again to hurt so bad? On a related note, why do so many people base their decisions around protecting themselves and doing what won't get them hurt? That has to lead to a boring fucking life.

7. I'm sorry I can't be perfect.

8. Why does everyone live so afraid, and let their fears control them?

9. Love is all you really need. Don't let anyone else tell you any different. If they do, they're lying.

10. What is reality? If you ask me, it's what you make it. From the moment we're born we start dying. Do something. For God's sake don't waste your time with work. I'm trying to free myself of that as I type this. No one's last uttered sentence from their death bed while taking their last dying breath was "I wish I spent more time at the office." Live.

Friday, February 22, 2008

Clouded Head, But Thoughts of Clarity on Love

All our young lives we search for someone to love. Someone who makes us complete. We choose partners and change partners. We dance to a song of heartbreak and hope. All the while wondering if somewhere, somehow, there's someone who might be searching for us. Finding that person is a glorious feeling, let me assure you. It is a high that cannot be accomplished through the administration of any narcotic, legal or otherwise. I found that person, that someone, my Carolina girl. And you know what? I love her; I love her with every ounce of my being. Is she perfect? No, but neither am I - far from it. I'm the guy who never stops fighting for what he wants, what he believes in, what he knows is right. And right now, I'm paying for the sins and misdeeds of another. So be it. It won't last, and Lord knows I'm patient. Yet whenever I find myself in these uncertain type of positions, I can't help but ask "Why me?" and "Again?" I suppose it's going to have to take me dying before the big man upstairs gives me an answer to those queries. They're 1A and 1B on my list of things to remember to ask.

I am no one special. Just a common man with common thoughts; just Patrick. And I've led a common life thus far. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will be forgotten sooner rather than later. I'll probably never be famous. But in one respect, I have succeeded as gloriously as anyone who's ever lived. I've loved another with all my heart and soul and, for me, that has always been enough.

Heather, I love you.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Choices to be made...

On the fence right now with several potential life-altering decisions more significant than this:

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Weekend Highlights

I came home Friday night, packed a bag, and headed right back out to spend the weekend in Chapel Hill, not to return until late Monday night because the government gave us bankers the day off to celebrate dead Presidents.

The following are a few of the highlights:

1) Watched The History of Sex on the History channel over a bottle of pinot noir. I won't go into the details of the historical beliefs and events presented in this documentary, but let's just say it was anything but a turn on.

2) Went almost completely ethnic for weekend dining: Thai and Japanese were the cuisines of choice. I say almost because the barbeque sandwich, cheese fries and cold beer I had at Linda's on Franklin Street wasn't exactly ethnic, although what it did to my stomach made it feel that way.

3) Dropped Heather in the floor while performing an impromptu dance number following our meal at the bar with my best friend whose name also happens to be Patrick, and his girlfriend whose name also happens to be Heather (I hope that didn't confuse you too much. If you're keeping track at home that's two Patricks and two Heathers). You learn a lot about a girl when you drop her in the floor in public. She laughed it off = she's a keeper.

4) Heather had to get up at 7:30 on Saturday morning to get recertified for CPR administration. It's good to know she could save my life if she had to.

5) A M.A.S.H. unit of Tar Heel regulars, but mostly reserves, absolutely destroyed Virginia Tech. No worries there.

6) Went to brunch at The Weathervane for mom's birthday. It's funny how time flies and as you get older you realize you aren't that much different from your parents. Is she really 56?

7) Spoke to Tar Heel power forward/shooting guard Marcus Ginyard as he was getting off the escalator at the mall. Seemed like a pretty nice dude, as I would have expected.

8) One of the crazy ex's sent me multiple questionable text messages Friday night. If you're reading this and you know it was you. Call me. I'm worried about you. I hope everything is ok.

9) Thought about trading the whip in for a Lotus Elise seen here:

Heather is talking me out of it.

10) Duke lost. Thank you Deacons.

11) I'm definitely going to have to get a Macbook like the one I keep stealing from Heather. The writing seems to go so much easier outside the four walls of the house where I can find inspiration far easier.

12) Did you guys see the Lindsay Lohan pictures she posed for that are in The New Yorker? Good Lord. Connecting the dots would be a fun game, that's all I'm going to say.

Friday, February 15, 2008

Let me tell you about the angry white man...

There is a great deal of interest in this year's Presidential election, as everyone seems to recognize that the next POTUS has to be a lot better than George Bush. The Democrats are riding high with two groundbreaking candidates - a woman and an African-American - while the conservative Republicans are in a quandary about their party's nod to a quasi-liberal maverick in one John McCain.

Each candidate is carefully pandering to a smorgasborg of special interest groups, ranging from gay, lesbian, and transgender people, to children of illegal immigrants, to working mothers to evangelical Christians. There is one group no one has recognized, and it is the group that will decide the election: the "Angry White Man". The AWM comes from all economic backgrounds, from dirt poor to filthy rich. He represents all geographic areas in America, from urban sophisticate to rural redneck, the deep south to the mountain west, and left coast to east. His common trait is that he isn't looking for anything from anyone. His only desire is the promise to be able to make his own way on a level playing field. In many cases, he is an independent businessman, and he employs several people. He pays more than his share of taxes, and he works hard.

Victimhood syndrome buzzwords like "disenfranchised" and "marginalized", and dont' forget "voiceless" don't resonate with him. He's used to picking up the tab, whether it's the company Christmas party, three sets of braces, three college educations, or a beautiful wedding. He believes the constitution should be interpreted literally as opposed to a "living document" that is open to the whims and vagaries of a panel of judges who have never worked an honest day in their lives (this isn't American Idol).

The AWM owns firearms, and he's willing to pick up a gun to defend his home and his country. He is willing to lay down his life to defend the freedom and safety of others, and the thought of killing someone who needs killing really doesn't bother him.

The AWM is not a metrosexual, a homosexual, and he certainly is not a victim. No one like him drowned in Hurricane Katrina because he got his people together and got the hell out. Then he went back into the parishes to rescue those too helpless and stupid to help themselves, often as a police officer, a National Guard soldier, or a volunteer fireman. His last name and religion don't matter. He doesn't throw that in anyone's face. His background might be Italian, Polish, or German with Cherokee Indian mixed in, but he considers himself a white American.

The AWM is a man's man. He's the kind of guy who likes to play poker, watch football, hunt deer, play golf, and change his own oil once in a while. He coaches baseball, soccer and football teams for the youth and doesn't ask for a penny in return. He's the kind of guy who can add an addition on his house by himself, drill an oil well, weld a new bumper onto his truck, design a factory, and publish books. He can fill a train with 100,000 tons of coal and get it to the power plant on time so that you keep the lights on and never know what it took to flip that light switch.

Women either love him or hate him, but they know he's a man, not a dishrag. If they're looking for someone to walk all over, they've got the wrong guy. He stands up straight, opens doors for women, and says "Yes, sir" and "No ma'am." He might be a Republican and he might be a Democrat; he might be a Libetarian or a Green. He knows that his wife is more emotional than rational, and he guides the family in a rational manner. He's not a racist, but he is annoyed and disappointed when people of certain backgrounds exhibit behavior that typifies the worst stereotypes of their race. He's willing to give everyone a fair chance if they work hard, play by the rules and learn English.

Most importantly, the AWM is pissed off when his job site becomes flooded with illegal workers who don't pay taxes and his wages drop like a stone. When his job gets shipped overseas and he has to speak to some incomprehensible idiot in India for technical support, he simmers. When Al Sharpton comes on television, leading some rally for reparations for slavery or some other nonsense, he bites his tongue.
He also votes, and the AWM loathes Hillary Clinton. Her voice reminds him of a shovel scraping a rock. He recoils at the mere sight of her own television. Her very image disgusts him, and he cannot fathom why anyone would want her as their leader. It's not that she is a woman. It's that she is who she is. it's the liberal victim groups she panders to, the "poor me" attitude that she represents, her inability to give a straight answer to an honest question, his tax dollars that she wants to give to people who refuse to do anything for themselves.

There are millions of AWMs. Four million AWMs are members of the NRA, and all of them will vote against Hillary Clinton, just as the great majority of them voted for GWB. He hopes that she will be the Democratic nominee for President in 2008, and he will make sure that she gets beaten like a drum.

Just a little insight on the AWM. (Disclaimer: I never claimed to be an AWM, I'm just letting you know who he is.)

Have a good weekend...