I'm in a war, again. No, not the job hunt, the "hither hence friends, to the 'burbs" war. It is brutal. There are many factions in this conflict, all of whom have staked their territory and are fiercely recruiting to their areas.
For instance, a certain couple, who shall remain nameless, is actively recruiting all you recently married and soon-to-be-married couples to, well, I won't mention the area but let's just say it sounds like "Schmeyerland". Don't go. Six-Ten traffic, and your kids will have to compete with all those national merit scholars from Bellaire. Don't do that to your hypothetical children.
There are others, many others, all over town. Some in Katy, some in the Woodlands. You will have to make a choice, but know this: if you move to Cypress I will help paint your house as well. And we'll hang out, bar-b-que, maybe we'll go work out at Lifetime Fitness. What are you going to do in Bellaire, play chess?
So listen friends, when it comes time to make that decision of where you and your significant other are going to live, remember me, your old buddy Josh, who loves kids and puppies, is handy around the house and has plenty of yard knowledge. Hither hence to Cypress.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
He's Back!
Hello Reader. I know I was gone longer than you expected. I know I went out for a pack of cigarettes and left you holding the baby, and I'm sorry. But I'm back, and I thank you for reading again. I hope you've been well.
I don't want to bore you with where I've been, or what I've been up to. Just know that I missed you. Ok, if we're going to reconnect, here's the run down: I went to UH for the summer and did well, we have another dog, Sadie, I'm working for my parents while I job hunt.
Extrapolate at your own will.
Of course, more happened. No, that wasn't ALL I was up to, but those are some of the relevant parts. The rest I prefer not to add to the eternal cyber-record.
For those of you that feel that you are withering away at your jobs, I offer this- take a vacation, a day off, find a hobby to relieve stress, do what you have to do to not make any overly-romantic impulsive decisions. The market is brutal right now. Forget about retail jobs. Between cutbacks and hiring freezes, some major retailers like Gap are reporting and increase of 33% in job applications.
And the folks applying to the old "college stand-by" jobs are not your fresh faced post adolescents looking to break through. These applicants are well educated and significantly over-qualified.
There was a time when being a Marine veteran, bilingual, and having work experience was enough to help my resume float to the top, but not these days. I think things are getting better, slowly. For instance I noticed that last year, and well into this one, that the average age of the check out people had risen. I wasn't used to so many forty and fifty somethings (if not older) bagging groceries. I couldn't let these good people bag my Blue Bell and whole wheat. on more than one occasion I rushed to bag with them.
But now that I'm out of the cocoon of school and banging in the job market, I feel like I'm in for a fight!
How dare I re-open the blog with a stream-of-consciousness! But, I gotta tell you. This is the way I'm stepping out there. Reaching down and grabbing a hand full of boot-strap.
I hope you're well Reader, it's good to be back. Wherever this is.
I don't want to bore you with where I've been, or what I've been up to. Just know that I missed you. Ok, if we're going to reconnect, here's the run down: I went to UH for the summer and did well, we have another dog, Sadie, I'm working for my parents while I job hunt.
Extrapolate at your own will.
Of course, more happened. No, that wasn't ALL I was up to, but those are some of the relevant parts. The rest I prefer not to add to the eternal cyber-record.
For those of you that feel that you are withering away at your jobs, I offer this- take a vacation, a day off, find a hobby to relieve stress, do what you have to do to not make any overly-romantic impulsive decisions. The market is brutal right now. Forget about retail jobs. Between cutbacks and hiring freezes, some major retailers like Gap are reporting and increase of 33% in job applications.
And the folks applying to the old "college stand-by" jobs are not your fresh faced post adolescents looking to break through. These applicants are well educated and significantly over-qualified.
There was a time when being a Marine veteran, bilingual, and having work experience was enough to help my resume float to the top, but not these days. I think things are getting better, slowly. For instance I noticed that last year, and well into this one, that the average age of the check out people had risen. I wasn't used to so many forty and fifty somethings (if not older) bagging groceries. I couldn't let these good people bag my Blue Bell and whole wheat. on more than one occasion I rushed to bag with them.
But now that I'm out of the cocoon of school and banging in the job market, I feel like I'm in for a fight!
How dare I re-open the blog with a stream-of-consciousness! But, I gotta tell you. This is the way I'm stepping out there. Reaching down and grabbing a hand full of boot-strap.
I hope you're well Reader, it's good to be back. Wherever this is.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Windfall
Yesterday, fortunes smiled on me. The Geniuses at the Apple store were unable to fix my Mac, so they ended up having to give me a brand new one. I've spent countless dollars on warranties for anything over a hundred bucks and one finally paid dividends.
Later that day, my brother-in-law gave Dana and I four Diamond level tickets to the Astros game. The best thing about sitting right behind home plate: the food. Free hamburgers, hot dogs, cheesecake, ice cream, soda, peanuts, popcorn, frozen lemonade, cookies, brownies, fried chicken, and on and on. And it's amazing how they treat you down there. Even the cops are chipper. "Thank you, sir, for joining us today. Have a safe drive home."
No, thank you officer.
Now that I've cashed out my Karma account, I wonder what this week will bring.
Later that day, my brother-in-law gave Dana and I four Diamond level tickets to the Astros game. The best thing about sitting right behind home plate: the food. Free hamburgers, hot dogs, cheesecake, ice cream, soda, peanuts, popcorn, frozen lemonade, cookies, brownies, fried chicken, and on and on. And it's amazing how they treat you down there. Even the cops are chipper. "Thank you, sir, for joining us today. Have a safe drive home."
No, thank you officer.
Now that I've cashed out my Karma account, I wonder what this week will bring.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
My deep, dark secret
My dog sucks my ear lobes. I don't willingly let her do it, but as I sit on the couch in a television induced stupor, I snap back to reality when a dog tongue reaches my ear drum, or I feel the greedy suckling of a hungry puppy at my ear lobe. I really hope my ear lobes don't look like dog teats. That might actually bring down my self esteem. There's no preparing for that one ahead of time. You just have to deal with whether or not your ears look like canine reproductive organs.
We got ATT U-Verse yesterday. The set up took quite a long time, but the DVR's geek factor made it worthwhile. I only have one concern about our new cable system: there is a bright blue light on the cable box that never turns off. It isn't noticeable at all while you're watching tv, but once the lights are off, and you're comfortably in bed, you can't help but feel like you're being video taped. Or maybe like you're looking into a movie projector. Or being abducted by aliens. Or maybe you CAN take too much NyQuil and all of this is just an unsettling episode.
But since there was no NyQuil involved last night, the blue light was in fact annoying as all hell. Not ALL hell, just the ring of fire where the devil tortures you with his handy dandy pen light. The only solution was to put a pair of socks over the light, to which Dana commented, just as I was drifting off, "I hope those don't catch on fire." Thanks babe. I'm desperately trying to avoid dreaming about being molested by the family dog and now I have to deny the fear that our house might burn down.
Reader, when you go into a slump, when life becomes mundane or frustrating, you have to look for the humor in your day. It's often in the details, or in the akward, slobbery affection of an amorous pooch.
We got ATT U-Verse yesterday. The set up took quite a long time, but the DVR's geek factor made it worthwhile. I only have one concern about our new cable system: there is a bright blue light on the cable box that never turns off. It isn't noticeable at all while you're watching tv, but once the lights are off, and you're comfortably in bed, you can't help but feel like you're being video taped. Or maybe like you're looking into a movie projector. Or being abducted by aliens. Or maybe you CAN take too much NyQuil and all of this is just an unsettling episode.
But since there was no NyQuil involved last night, the blue light was in fact annoying as all hell. Not ALL hell, just the ring of fire where the devil tortures you with his handy dandy pen light. The only solution was to put a pair of socks over the light, to which Dana commented, just as I was drifting off, "I hope those don't catch on fire." Thanks babe. I'm desperately trying to avoid dreaming about being molested by the family dog and now I have to deny the fear that our house might burn down.
Reader, when you go into a slump, when life becomes mundane or frustrating, you have to look for the humor in your day. It's often in the details, or in the akward, slobbery affection of an amorous pooch.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
In loving memory of the most interesting man in the world
It has too often been the case that I've found myself saying, "I wish I had taken more time to get to know him."
Henrique Wauters was a survivor in the greatest sense. Born to a Jewish family in Brazil in 1920, he returned to Europe where he was forced to flee from Nazi persecution. "Henry" evaded the Germans, but his family did not. The chase took him through Belgium, Holland and eventually France- where he fought as a part of the French resistance. He was eventually captured and imprisoned in a German camp until freed by the Allies.
Henry spoke English, French, Spanish and Portuguese. He lived throughout Europe, Brazil and the United States. He was married once before he married my tia Irma and had five children with his first wife. I state these things coarsely because these are the facts I remember learning as a child. I will not embellish my recollection, I would rather honor the truths that I recall.
I knew him as tio "Rick", and it wasn't until his eighty-ninth birthday party that I realized it was only my immediate family that called him by this name. My aunt Irma and other aunts and uncles called him "Henry". In retrospect, it is fitting that he answered to more than one name. His experiences were almost too many for one lifetime and it is appropriate that he be given the space of two names to tell his story.
As we entered the party last Saturday, I saw his six-foot-three frame sunken into the couch.
His head turned as his failing eyes searched for the sound of an opening door.
"Oh, Irma, someone's here", he said. I greeted him with a squeeze of his hand and wished him a happy birthday. The house no longer smelled like rich pipe tobacco, but I wished for the fragrance that as a child, I associated with him.
Tio Rick loved to talk. Of his many tales, jokes and observations, two sentences said before a farewell five years ago, saved my life. "Don't be a hero, you know? Do your job, look out for the guy next to you, and come home", he said in his deep and ambiguously French accent. Although I was rigid with anxiety about fighting in Iraq, my uncle's hands on my shoulders and the steadiness in his eyes granted me reprieve from the anticipation of war. It was more than a "chin up", from an uncle, it felt more like a wise grandfather imbuing me with familiar wisdom.
After greeting the other members of my family, I rushed to sit by him on the couch, and thanked him for his advice. His reply was as sincere and pragmatic as his words five years earlier.
"It was what we did in France, you know? I always wondered what good a medal of honor was if they gave it out posthumously. The people who love you would rather have you home than have your medals, you know?"
These comments carried Henry's mind off to his days in the resistance. As his voice grew excited with the tales of his youth, his sons left me to him, perhaps because they had heard the stories more times than I had- or maybe because like myself, they were saddened to think that there might only be a few more tellings of Rick's adventures.
We ate dinner, and gave tio Rick his presents. He thought my gift of cologne was fine and said, "Oh, Josh likes the nicer things, eh?" I was happy to see the old man smile and laugh that honest, booming laugh from the depths of his belly. "Thank God it's not another bottle of cognac", said my aunt Irma.
The afternoon passed and we began to leave for the hour-long trip south to Houston. I stopped and unsure of how to say good-bye, thanked him again for all the kind words, for filling my imagination with his valiant accounts of World War II Europe, and promised that we would visit more frequently. Unable to fare us well with his usual hearty handshake or his towering, encompassing hugs, he simply squeezed my hand, said he appreciated that we came and said a simple good-bye, as if we would see each other soon for another chat.
With tio Rick, conversations were always lively and long and good-byes were always short. Why waste time on the farewell when you can spend that energy on the good part? Yesterday, tio Rick passed away quietly, with his wife at his side. He asked that there be no service, and that things be kept as simple as possible.
To honor him, I've written what I know about him. I've written of his life and briefly mention his passing because that is what he wanted. A long life, and a short good-bye.
The world is filled with those that hope the world will build monuments in honor of their lives.
Henrique Wauters simply lived a monumental life, and asked for nothing else.
Henrique Wauters was a survivor in the greatest sense. Born to a Jewish family in Brazil in 1920, he returned to Europe where he was forced to flee from Nazi persecution. "Henry" evaded the Germans, but his family did not. The chase took him through Belgium, Holland and eventually France- where he fought as a part of the French resistance. He was eventually captured and imprisoned in a German camp until freed by the Allies.
Henry spoke English, French, Spanish and Portuguese. He lived throughout Europe, Brazil and the United States. He was married once before he married my tia Irma and had five children with his first wife. I state these things coarsely because these are the facts I remember learning as a child. I will not embellish my recollection, I would rather honor the truths that I recall.
I knew him as tio "Rick", and it wasn't until his eighty-ninth birthday party that I realized it was only my immediate family that called him by this name. My aunt Irma and other aunts and uncles called him "Henry". In retrospect, it is fitting that he answered to more than one name. His experiences were almost too many for one lifetime and it is appropriate that he be given the space of two names to tell his story.
As we entered the party last Saturday, I saw his six-foot-three frame sunken into the couch.
His head turned as his failing eyes searched for the sound of an opening door.
"Oh, Irma, someone's here", he said. I greeted him with a squeeze of his hand and wished him a happy birthday. The house no longer smelled like rich pipe tobacco, but I wished for the fragrance that as a child, I associated with him.
Tio Rick loved to talk. Of his many tales, jokes and observations, two sentences said before a farewell five years ago, saved my life. "Don't be a hero, you know? Do your job, look out for the guy next to you, and come home", he said in his deep and ambiguously French accent. Although I was rigid with anxiety about fighting in Iraq, my uncle's hands on my shoulders and the steadiness in his eyes granted me reprieve from the anticipation of war. It was more than a "chin up", from an uncle, it felt more like a wise grandfather imbuing me with familiar wisdom.
After greeting the other members of my family, I rushed to sit by him on the couch, and thanked him for his advice. His reply was as sincere and pragmatic as his words five years earlier.
"It was what we did in France, you know? I always wondered what good a medal of honor was if they gave it out posthumously. The people who love you would rather have you home than have your medals, you know?"
These comments carried Henry's mind off to his days in the resistance. As his voice grew excited with the tales of his youth, his sons left me to him, perhaps because they had heard the stories more times than I had- or maybe because like myself, they were saddened to think that there might only be a few more tellings of Rick's adventures.
We ate dinner, and gave tio Rick his presents. He thought my gift of cologne was fine and said, "Oh, Josh likes the nicer things, eh?" I was happy to see the old man smile and laugh that honest, booming laugh from the depths of his belly. "Thank God it's not another bottle of cognac", said my aunt Irma.
The afternoon passed and we began to leave for the hour-long trip south to Houston. I stopped and unsure of how to say good-bye, thanked him again for all the kind words, for filling my imagination with his valiant accounts of World War II Europe, and promised that we would visit more frequently. Unable to fare us well with his usual hearty handshake or his towering, encompassing hugs, he simply squeezed my hand, said he appreciated that we came and said a simple good-bye, as if we would see each other soon for another chat.
With tio Rick, conversations were always lively and long and good-byes were always short. Why waste time on the farewell when you can spend that energy on the good part? Yesterday, tio Rick passed away quietly, with his wife at his side. He asked that there be no service, and that things be kept as simple as possible.
To honor him, I've written what I know about him. I've written of his life and briefly mention his passing because that is what he wanted. A long life, and a short good-bye.
The world is filled with those that hope the world will build monuments in honor of their lives.
Henrique Wauters simply lived a monumental life, and asked for nothing else.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Invitation to the voyage
The first time I was ever published was in an anthology of young American poets. It wasn't a major publication and you would be hard pressed to find a copy today. I figured since we get enough hard line talk, we could maybe wash away the bitter after taste of reality with a little art.
Here is one of the first poems I ever read, and one that got me starting writing. Yes, it was to try to get a girl.
Invitation To The Voyage
- Charles Baudelaire
My child, my sister, dream
How sweet all things would seem
Were we in that kind land to live together,
And there love slow and long,
There love and die among
Those scenes that image you, that sumptuous weather
Drowned suns that glimmer there
Through cloud disheveled air
Move me with such mystery as appears
Within those other skies
Of your treacherous eyes
When I behold them shining through their tears
There, there is nothing but grace and measure,
Richness, quietness, and pleasure
Furniture that wears
The luster of the years
Softly would glow within our glowing chamber,
Flowers of rarest bloom
Proffering their perfume
Mixed with vague fragrances of amber;
Gold ceilings would there be,
Mirrors deep as the sea,
The walls all in an Eastern splendor hung--
Nothing but should address
The soul's loneliness,
Speaking her sweet and secret native tongue
There, there is nothing but grace and measure,
Richness, quietness, and pleasure
See, sheltered from the swells
There in the still canals
Those drowsy ships that dream of sailing forth;
It is to satisfy
Your least desire, they ply
Hither through all the waters of the earth
The sun at close of day
Clothes the fields of hay,
Then the canals, at last the town entire
In hyacinth and gold:
Slowly the land is rolled
Sleepward under a sea of gentle fire
There, there is nothing but grace and measure,
Richness, quietness, and pleasure
Thursday, April 30, 2009
A few free resources to help you make a difference
I'm a feeling a little agitated by the pitch and the furor of criticism aimed solely at the White House. I understand that Obama is a huge political figure and as one CNN pundit put it, "He blocks out the sun." However, let's think about who makes decisions that most directly affect our daily lives. If we really want to take control of our fates and ease the unsettling sensation that we're on a runaway train, we need to learn who our local politicians are, and what they're up to.Breathe easy, I'm not going to get up on the soap box today, I'm only going to rest on it while I list a few resources you can use to become informed about your direct representation.
Harris County
If you are a registered voter in Harris County, you can visit the Harris County Tax Office website and simply fill out a voter search using your name and or address. Once you are able to view the results, you'll see a list of local and national representatives. The first step in moving our communities in a positive direction is to know who the decision makers are. Here's what my search results look like:
| YOUR ELECTED DISTRICT REPRESENTATIVES IN PRECINCT 0173 | |
| U.S. Senator: | John Cornyn |
| U.S. Senator: | Kay Bailey Hutchison |
| U.S. Representative: | Michael McCaul |
| State Senator: | Dan Patrick |
| State Representative: | Allen Fletcher |
| Harris County Judge: | Ed Emmett |
| Harris County Tax Assessor-Collector: | Leo Vasquez |
| Harris County Commissioner: | Jerry Eversole |
| Harris County Constable: | Ron Hickman |
| Justice of the Peace Pos. 1: | Judge J. Kent Adams |
| Justice of the Peace Pos. 2: | Judge Tom Lawrence |
| State Board of Education: | Terri Leo |
Fort Bend and Other Counties
If you live in Fort Bend county, you can perform the same search by visiting your Voter Registrar website.
If you live somewhere other than these counties, click here to find information about your county's voting system and public officials.
State Political Resources
Texas Legislature
Texas Senate
Supreme Court of Texas
Use these websites to see what is on the floor of Texas Congress. Knowing what bills are being debated empowers you to see where state and national political priorities are. Don't just rely on the national media networks to keep you informed. Being an independent thinker means going right to the source.
I know that some of the legislative material can be dense, but if you have questions call the office of your state representative and ask someone to explain it to you. That is what they are there for and YOU are the one keeping them employed. Take advantage of this.
National Politics
US Senate
House of Representatives
White House
Take a look to see what national issues are on the floor for debate here. Make it a goal to do this twice a month. Compare what you read here to what you see on your favorite news network and ask yourself if the media is trying to inform you, or if they're simply salesmen trying to keep your attention long enough to get to commercial break.
Houston City Hall
I don't know about you, but I'm embarrassed to say that I have no idea what goes on at City Hall. I don't know who my representatives are or what the hell they're up to. A lot of the decisions that take place downtown affect how and where businesses are able to operate, what lands are going to be taken for government use and other ordinances that can affect your commute, your taxes or even your child's access to education.
From the city's e-government portal, click on the Government tab and you'll find links to Houston City Hall minutes, links to several city services, and links to surrounding municipalities and other county resources.
A quiet call to arms
We need to spend less time on the couch, watching the news through the "soda straw" lens that the networks force us to use- and more time in each other's living rooms informing each other and discussing how we feel about how local, state and national government are shaping our country.
We are Americans. If we choose not to be involved, or to not use our first amendment rights, or to let the media become an arm of its advertisers and not our lens into government; we will no longer be Americans. We will become nameless consumers of whatever the hell TV is trying to sell us.
Take some time to check out the links, you'll feel better and be better for it.
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