"If you want to be free, there is but one way; it is to guarantee an equally full measure of liberty to all your neighbors. There is no other." - Carl Schurz

"The saddest epitaph which can be carved in memory of a vanished liberty is that it was lost because its possessors failed to stretch forth a saving hand while yet there was time." - George Sutherland
"Whenever a separation is made between liberty and justice, neither, in my opinion, is safe." - Edmund Burke

Friday, August 31, 2007

Thursday, August 30, 2007

Somebody, please give me an appropriate German adjective starting with 'T'!

So, I promised more about my recent karaoke experience in Tucson.

Upon arriving in town Saturday afternoon, I checked the internet via my phone for a gay bar in the area. I found there was a place with five minutes' walking distance called IBT's, which apparently stood for It's 'Bout Time (though, technically speaking, shouldn't it be It's 'Bout Time's?). Though, after my performance, Ich bin taub might be more appropriate.

When I arrived, I found there was karaoke on the patio. I made chitchat with a nice Iowan boy named J___ while various patrons belted out country ballads and duets from Grease (yes, gay karaoke is exactly like its straight counterpart). The karaoke mistress asked several times if I planned to sing. On some level I wanted to try it, but the notion of singing in public has always terrified me. I'd prefer to be naked in public than sing in public. I finally asked to see her book and started scouring for an appropriate song. I talked myself out of singing and then back into it several times. Finally, I selected "Blister in the Sun" by The Violent Femmes. It was a perfect choice- it had only a few very simple verses and Gordon Gano's original vocal wasn't exactly virtuosic, so mine couldn't be that bad in comparison. I also related to the song well, as there was a time in my adolescence when I frequently got high as a kite, which slightly increased the likelihood that I just might stop to check someone out. Additionally, I occasionally failed to comprehend the causal factors leading to stained sheets, though I suspected that body and beats were involved somehow.

Just before the karaoke ended at about 6 P.M., the karaoke lady called my name. I took the microphone and suggested to all in my audience that if they became thoroughly smashed in the first eight bars before the first lyrics started, it would be highly appreciated and mutually beneficial. I proceeded to tackle two full minutes worth of lyrics with the efficiency of the Japanese and the ardor of a Zen master. Soon it was over and my audience clapped languidly, showing an appreciation appropriate for a toddler's macaroni mosaic. My phobia was conquered, and ich bin verhältnismäßig sicher, daß niemand taub wurde.

J___ went on to help me consummate the traditional American college dormatory experience later that week. I promise to not elaborate on this further.

"Our liberties we prize and our rights we will maintain."

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Library school and my right foot

So, it's been a while since I have posted on a regular basis here, but I'm trying earnestly to get back on track. Posting about everything that has happened over the past two months in one post is too daunting, so I'm going to tell the story piecemeal.

At the end of July, I went down to Tucson for the seven-day intensive classroom portion of the first class for my MLS. Let me just say right now, it was an awesome week despite crappy accomodations, losing my debit card and breaking my foot in such a short period. I had a great time and met some really fun and interesting people. These small misfortunes cannot outweigh the overwhelmingly positive experience of that week.

I arrived on a Saturday and checked into Coronado Hall (affectionately dubbed Coronado Hell by its residents without an ounce of hyperbole). The room hadn't been dusted since the first Bush administration, the bed was tiny and the shower head sprayed more water on the floor than in the shower. That first night, I nearly died of hypothermia because I couldn't figure out how to turn the air conditioner down. I started my first day with about two hours of sleep.

Sunday morning, I walked about half a mile from Coronado to the main library where the first sessions were going to be held. My right foot started hurting, but I dismissed it because it sometimes hurts for no apparent reason and is fine an hour later. As the week progressed, my foot didn't stop hurting. It just kept getting worse. Classmates routinely asked me about my increasingly pronounced limp.

I finally saw a doctor at the student clinic on Thursday. The X-ray revealed a stress fracture, most likely the result of spending too much time on the treadmill in the previous several weeks. He put me in a walking cast and gave me crutches. I tried using the crutches to get back to class but I found it much easier just to walk in the boot. I only missed fifteen minutes of class as a result of the whole affair.

In spite of having a challenging week (beyond just the class material) I got an A in the class. I am now taking three online courses, all of which are much more reading-intensive than the first. I am trying to find time to read every day and I find myself with much less free time these days.

As for the foot, I switched to an orthotic shoe about a week and a half ago. It still hurts sometimes if I walk too much. I am back to working out in earnest - I've been to the SRC four times since Saturday. I just have to be careful not to do exercises that put additional weight on my foot. In a few weeks, when I am ready to do cardio again, I have been advised to avoid the treadmill and use the bike or the elliptical instead.

More about my extra-curricular adventures, including my first (sober) stab at karaoke, later.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Two days until my youth is gone forever

Two days before my thirthieth birthday, I have come to an important realization about human nature and how it will likely shape my future. One's list of pet peeves always gets longer as one ages, never shorter.

About a month ago, I was diagnosed with a stress fracture in the second metatarsal of my right foot (more on that later). This has led directly to the addition of one pet peeve to my list: people who don't give up seats on the bus for someone who obviously needs one. A couple weeks ago, when I was still wearing a clunky walking cast up to my knee, I boarded the bus home from campus. All the side-facing seats were full. One individual was taking up three seats with his various and sundry baggage and oversized ass. I can't fit comfortably in a forward-facing seat normally, as I am 6'1" and seats on city buses are designed, apparently, for dwarves. With the boot, it would have been an impossible fit. I stood on one leg for almost a mile, trying to make eye contact with one of the occupants of the side-facing seats would get the hint. I didn't want to pause my iPod to actually speak to anyone because I prefer my iPod to human interaction. Finally, I reached the limit of my patience and I exclaimed, "Could somebody please give their seat to the gentleman with the BROKEN FOOT?!" Someone did give me their seat, but it wasn't Mr. My-backpack-is-more-important-than-any-human, unfortunately.

Another pet peeve formed this afternoon in ASU's Student Recreation Center. It was only my third time back since breaking my foot and it's much more crowded than I remember. This, in itself, is not a problem if people generally follow basic gym etiquette. However, these common-sense protocols were apparently beyond the grasp of two young men who sat chatting on two pieces of equipment. Neither was actually using the equipment, but rather playing. One jauntily pressed the foot pedal on the seated chest press, rhythmically letting the weights slam back on top of the stack as he released his foot. The other played with the seat adjustment knob on the seated row, unscrewing it completely and fumbling to screw it back one, then repeating the exercise anew. I watched the pair scornfully as I earnestly completed my sets on each machine in the row and moved closer and closer. Thankfully, they decided to move on just before I was finished with the seated shoulder press. I'm glad I didn't have to yell at them. Despite my reputation for misanthropy, I don't really enjoy yelling at people. It's just necessary sometimes.

This is the process by which deep, brooding young men turn into cranky old men. I just didn't think it would happen to me so quickly.

Monday, August 27, 2007

A farewell to bacon


I am in mourning. Recent bloodwork has revealed that my cholesterol is elevated and I must now eliminate red meat and dairy from my diet entirely.

Oh, bacon, how I will always cherish the times we had together! I remember the summer that Scott A. took me to Lenny's and introduced me to the Mexican burger: bacon, jalapeños, mayo, two kinds of cheese and a giant slab of medium-rare beef. All are gone now, banished like tortured ghosts. All that remains for me is the hollow bun, searching unceasingly for warm, gooey companionship, much like myself. Though they have snatched you all from my greasy hands and mouth, I will carry a part of you in my heart. In my arteries, anyway.

Friday, August 24, 2007

Out of blogging hiatus to oppose the OPRA!

I was planning on posting more completely about what's been going on in my life these past two months, but I have to bring to your attention an outrageous and heinous piece of legislation being debated before Congress right now. Write or call your Rep. and tell them you are against OPRA!


Live From Congress: The OPRA