Higher Learning

I just registered for school today. I am taking three classes, in the evening, in an attempt to get "qualified" to do my job. See my post of March 3rd for my opinions of the difference between qualified and capable.

In this particular case, I am keenly motivated to at least get my Associate's Degree so that I can take it and my experience else where if I chose. Regardless, it seems to me that the idea of higher learning is a farce.

Ok, I paid $911 dollars for 9 credit hours, let's say that is $100 for each credit hour, for easy math. Teachers are salary, and on average teach 12 credit hours a semester, two semesters a year equally 24 hours a year. A semester is, on average, 18 weeks long... so 24 hours times 36 weeks of class equals 864 in class hours. (Note: I said IN class) If they make $36,000 a year that means they make $41.67 an in-class hour.

Hears where it come full circle... 25 students in a class that is 3 credit hours... $7500 in tuition... $2250 in teacher salary.... So, that being said, $70 of every $100 paid in tuition goes to someone other than the person that is teaching them. 70% of tuition doesn't go to the educator. Quite a racket. Not to mention the government funding; "$3,751.00 per FTE student"... took that right off my receipt.

So if the school is already clearing a tidy little profit of tuition, why are they using my tax dollars?

Did I mention $238.50 for 3 class texts? When was the last time you were in a good book store and found a book that cost $80? The school picks the books and chooses the sales price. I doubt very seriously that they would sell them without making a profit. Oh, these were used books too, about 60% cheap the cost of new. And they still make a profit because they buy them back for next to nothing. What the hell am I going to do with an Algebra book after I finally pass the class? Exactly...

All of this leads me to say that the "higher" in higher learning is in reference to the price of getting that learning, not the plane at which your intelligence will be afterwards.

Sin City

I watched Sin City last night. I really don't know what to think about it.

Style wise, I kind of think it is a mix between Dick Tracy, Pulp Fiction, and UnderWorld.

The strangest thing about it, well A strange thing, was the coloring. Mostly in black and white, only certain things were in color. Furthermore, it was one of those movies where it was really hard to nail down a time frame. People were driving cars from the 50's talking on cell phone and shooting machine guns. It was cool in a creepy kind of way.

I have to give alot of credit to Mickey Rourke. He pretty much kicked ass in this movie. Bruce Willis was ok, but didn't have much play time. Clive Owen was good, as always, but for some reason directors continue to make him loss his accent. Still, it was a pretty star studded cast... Willis, Rourke, Rutger Hauer, Elijah Woods, Powers Booth, Jessica Alba, Brittany Murphy, Jamie King, Rosario Dawson, Clive Owen,Benecio DelToro, Michael Madsen and flashes of lots of people you recognize and don't know there name.

Did I mention it was graphic? The blood was white in most cases and there was plenty of it. It was worth a watch, but make sure the kiddies are in bed. Oh, and Mom, watch it during the day cause the yellow guy will creep you out.

So much for no more opinions

For those that don't know or didn't read my last posting, August 15th is my birthday. Another snip-it of information is that I am left handed.

I am by no means famous or infamous for that matter; though to hear some people at work tell it, I am well on my way, however I can not help but feel a connection with another lefty yhat shares by birthday, Napoleon Bonaparte.

When I was a child, my mother ran into a plam reader and she read my palm, naturally it doomed me to heart-break. I think Josephine wouls qualify for my boy Napoleon. Generally, if I really believed in reencarnation, he would be who I would say I was, once.

Anyway, (quick note, I despise Mom's keyboard... not hunt and peck friendly) as I was saying, as I feel a connection to this man I seem to really connect to his quotes. And here is the point of the post. I plucked a book of quotes from thre shelves at my parents houses and found the following quotes, in this order, under the heading of "ABILITY".

"We judge ourselves by what we feel we capable of doing, while others judge us by what we have already done" Longfellow

"Ability is of little account without opportunity" Napoleon

I wondered if the editor of that book had a since of humor. So I searched on. Next up was:

"My tastes are aristocratic; my actions democratic." Victor Hugo

"A man's palate can, in time, become accustomer to anything" Napoleon

Again found in order under the heading TASTE.

Okay, so I looked in the index and looked at all the Napoleon quotes...

SUICIDE

"I have a hundred times wished that aone could resign life as an officer resigns commision" Robert Burns

"It is cowardice to commit suicide" Napoleon

NEWS

"Every editor of newspapers pays tribute to the devil." La Fontaine

"Four hostile newspapers are more to be feared than a thousand bayonets" Napoleon.

LOVE

"But there is nothing half so sweet in life As Love's young dream." Moore.

"The only victoryover love is flight" Napoleon

HISTORY

"What is history but a fable agreed upon?" Napoleon

"The historian is a prophet looking backwards" Schlegel



FORESIGHT

"If a man take no thought about what is distant, he will find sorrow near at hand" Confucious

"Forethought we may have, undoubtedly, but not foresight." Napoleon...


See, its not my fault. I am destined to put my silly opinons in here. I am destined to do so just like the editor was destined to continually destined to put those quote in a argumentitive position...

One more quote... Opinions are like assholes, eveyones got one and thinks everyone else's stinks

It's the most wonderful time... of the year!

Today is my 29th birthday. Happy Birthday to me??? Why, thank you.

As I draw closer to 30 I can't help but realize that I am more concerned about getting fatter than I am of getting older. Of which, I am doing both.

Still, we had a great surprise party on Saturday, and most of my friends were there. I was good times, though I had a little to much of the sauce... I found a calculator on-line and it estimated my BAC to be roughly .13... I almost got a WUI on the way to the Beast (Walking under the influence). Still, it was a good time.

So, I had always told myself that I would build myself a shop for my 30th birthday and it looks as if I will be able to do that. I have had an attached garage and a detached garage that was close to the house, and in both cases I have found that the garage becomes overflow for the house. Not very condusive to a shop atmosphere. So I plan to build myself a great shop in the "woods" on my lot, well away from the house and use my current shed for house overflow. Then I will convert my former garage into a full bath, 2 bedrooms, and a den. It will add roughly 800 sq. ft. to my house bring it to 2600 in total with 5 bedrooms and 3 full baths... sweet! It should increase my property value by about 4 times what it will cost... double sweet!

Anyway, I have noticed that I post alot of opinions on my blog. For a while I will be posting my adventures of home renovations and hobby stuff as to not become to tiresome in my posting.

Until then, Happy Birthday ME!

When in Rome...

We humans are Lemmings. We are easily corruptable, be it for the better or for the worse.

You put a choir boy in with a group of hoods, and chances are they will become like a hood. On the flip side, if you put a hood in a choir, chances are they will behave. Granted, they may not actually change but they will follow suit with their peers.. most the time.

Thus comes the old saying... When I Rome, do as the Romans do.

Besides the fact that the Romans pilaged the entire known world, encouraged debauchery, and pretty much put the hammer down on anyone who strayed from the norm; this motto has survived the test of time. Why?

It also seem strange to me that anyone who lives outside the box is look down on by society. People who live in communs are considered cultists. Those who adorn themselves with tatoos are lower class. Those who appose George Bush are un-American, and those who chose to seek partnership with someone of their own sex are moral miscreants. The list goes on.

So why is it still taboo to be different? Why is not being normal abnormal? My good friend Angus Bethune says "there is no normal". By our very nature we all are unique and different so why is it so bad to be a little too different?

Two centuries ago you had to know how to do things. Communities built upon this generation after generation. Sons learned the trade from their father, who were taught by their father and so on. A blacksmith must only be good at blacksmithing to survive for he could trade his skills for the bounty of a farmer, or a cobbler and so on. They wore their occupation with pride. You can still see evidence of this today. Anyone named Smith out there? Smithson? Taylor? Chandler? Mason? Carpenter? Jackson? Clark? Wright? Hell, here at work we have a Blackwelder, a Knight, a Taylor, a Sanders, a Farmer, two Crowders, a Garner, a Walker, a Workman, a Brewer, a Baumann (Bowman), a couple Carters, a Bucher (butcher), and on and on. So why is manual labor frowned upon. Take inventory of your friends and see how many have an occupation name.

Anyway, back to the box. Who defines the box? Who says what is normal and what is abnormal?
Personally, I think it is television (movies too). Up until there was a TV in everyone's home, you could only read about things and occasionally see a printed photograph. They would have never dreamed off having the multi-media barrage that we endure today.

Look at the current image women have to compare themselves against. Classical painters rendered images of soft, curvy woman who were images of health and prosperity. Mass-Media has made women think that they are not attractive unless they meet this level unattainable without digital remastering.

Take motorcycles for example, for a more recent phenominom. Until jesse James and his commercial success you would never dream of walking up to a biker at a gas pump and complimenting him on his chopper. Now, being a biker is main-stream and cool.

So, finally to the point. Name 5 TV shows (non-reality) where a main character was a laborer? You see tons of Doctor shows, Lawyer shows, even Cop shows, but what about the Plumbers, the Carpenters, the Mechanics? If you were to ask a kid what they want to be they rarely say something that society would deem menial. (Unless you are Haley and she wants to be a Librarian). And what is wrong with working for a living? Can you fix your own car? Can you plant and tend a garden? Can you change a light fixture or frame a garage? Can you make a pot or a plate or bake your own bread? What would Lazarus Long say? should be on bracelets!

Our society has built itself through its pastimes into a nation of laziness.

I have actually heard people say they would actually rather go on welfare than work in a bean field. What they hell is that all about?

We must judge a person not by their hobbies, or occupation, interests, or preferences, but by their actions and character. Throw away the box... give it to some kid to play with. Or better yet, put your TV in it and chuck the lot. Oh, that reminds me, I need to get home to fix the TV.

Simple Lessons Learned

Some pearls for you...

Never weld in Flip-Flops...
Regardless of how cooly the guys on tv act while welding, little globs of molten metal drop from your work piece occasionally. If, by chance, you are being so stylish as to wear a pair of sandals with socks, and the slag drops between your foot and sandal, be prepared to feel some discomfort.

Wear gloves... occasionally!
I do not like wearing gloves. I never wore them when hitting in baseball, or while framing a house, or working in the garden, or any other time for that matter. When I used to tinker with wood working, I would make a cut then rub my hand over it to make sure it was smooth. This is a habit that is hard to break and most painful following a completed weld. I found it excrutiating and unnecessary to check the smoothness of a still glowing piece of freshly welded steel. As I can not break myself from doing it, I broke down and bought a fairly expensive set of gloves. A pair of gloves which I promptly burnt after my second weld after putting them on. Better them than me I guess.

Never get involved in a land war in Asia...
Or a Sicilian while death is on the line....

Be careful what you say.... they may actually be listening.
As I have embarked on this new endeavor (Making my furnace) I have been quite excited and enthralled with the process. I have excitedly told anyone who would at least look interested about my intentions. Oddly enough, they gave me the same reaction that dad does when I talk to him. They sit there blankly looking straight ahead almost willing me to shut-up. Sometimes, they actually listen, normally virgin ears, and have the gall to ask the question.... what the hell are you going to do with that? I guess if it is better to be thought a fool that to open your mouth and prove it; it is better to be thought a geek than to share your projects and prove it. Of course, there is nothing geeky about handling molten metal but I think it is the enthusiasm that seems geeky.

This is my favorite.....

Potential means you haven't done anything yet!

Rico Kinda-Suave

Yesterday was Richard's birthday. Unless I am mistaken, he was 27.

First, I have to admit that it wasn't until after lunch that I realized what the date was. I am unaccustomed to working two weeks straight, as we have done, and had lost track of the date and the day for that matter. All week it has felt like Friday... CRS is not like me.

Anyway, Richard and I normally play chess at our breaks and more often than not have lunch together. Lately, I have been tied up with the Bomber during our breaks so we have been missing our chess matches and our lunch breaks are normally filled with catching up on the present gossip and bitching. Yesterday was no different in the fact that we missed our first break and ate lunch together, though we missed our afternoon break.

Still, it wasn't until after lunch that I realized it was the 3rd, and had intended to wish him happy birthday the next time I saw him. Naturally, I did not see him in a setting that allowed my oddly eccentric though process to spit out the tidings. It wasn't until I got in the truck to leave that I remember that I had not told him.

I figured I would call him after he left work. I had to run an errand, to Verizon with mom, then I would give him a buzz. Naturally, our discussion got on the Bomber, and I left my Mom's house quite upset. In such a tizzy I was, that I ran out of gas on the way home because I was so blissfully unaware of anything besides my despair. By the time I got Becca to rescue me and got home it was 8pm, and finally got a chance to call him... Not home, DAMN IT!

So happy belated birthday my friend!

I met Richard in 1998, here at Cubic. He was a young, foolish, long haired hippie. At least he's still foolish!

We didn't exactly like each other very much at first, as we were working on FareBoxes for the NYC transit authority. He was a temp, and I had just returned after my "hiatus" and was hired in directly. I am sure there was some boss' son thoughts there.

It wasn't until we worked on Far East gates that we became friends, which was later in the year. I only saw him at breaks, to play chess on a cardboard chess board we colored with a sharpie and square cardboard pieces we made much the same way. Even though he was only 10 feet from me, I only saw him occasionally because I was swamping him with gates. I had a sea of gates through my station waiting on the next, I has kicking ass. I think that did as much to foster our friendship as anything. That and I picked him up for work each morning.

Through the years, Richard and I have drifted close and apart, but always remained a point of support for the other. Never have I met someone so infuriatingly like myself. Stubborn and totally relentless in being what he is... gotta love it.

So what if he lost the mullet.... and most the hair he had on top. And so what if snails have moved faster than him. He is one of my few friends, and one of my dearest.

So happy birthday you jackass, you know I love you.