Troll’s Hole

Again I come to that time of the week where I feel the need to write something pithy, meaningful, or insightful.

I usually end up with drivel, but I plug away. I don’t really to this for others, I do it for me. That way I only have to satisfy my harshest critic: Myself. I feel that there is a place in this world for more drivel.

And in the NEWS….

I am not happy with the media’s fascination with ‘The Gloved One’ taking the final moon walk. They are following his every move after he is dead. How challenging. I was never a great fan, but I think that now that he is passed we might just try to show more respect than postmortem idol worship and morbid obsession.

Any way you look at him, he was damaged. Whether by fame, gender dysfunction, abusive parents, an imagined excess of melanin in his skin, or being just fucked up, he was obviously not normal. Now he is not alive and he will remain that way.

“Birth is the original terminal disease.” – Me

I say let’s let the poor damaged bastard rest in peace and move on with OUR lives instead of reliving the highs and lows of his life.

We also seem obsessed with Iran and the election and following protests. I think we all know what is going to happen. Why are we so fascinated in seeing the obvious come about? Let’s have a daily news story about the sun coming up or going down to make us feel informed.

On that note; go to this site. It is very informative and presses the point to places even I never went.
http://www.dhmo.org/facts.html

So says the Troll.

Back when I was a sprout I was told by teachers and other people that I should aspire to a career. I wanted to become an inventor, thinking up cool gadgets and fiddling with inventor junk until I came up with something patentable to make my fortune and a secure future. I wanted to be Ron Popeil’s dad. I wanted to be Edison or Tesla or the guy that invented the hook and loop fastener. If I were a kid today I would want my invention to be pitched by two guys that have their own TV show on the Discovery Channel.

That all went out the window when my high school guidance counselor took offence at my subtle joke about a carrot and his toilet training during a mentoring session. High school administrative people seldom seem to have a sense of humor. This man had even less than most. He failed me and killed my aspirations.

During a company training session a few weeks ago, I had to take one of those tests that tell you what kind of personality you have. I was confused when I scored ‘creative’ on three out of three sets. No one else in the room came close to three out of three in anything, let alone creative.

Maybe I missed my calling by not sticking to my guns and making a basement laboratory with incomprehensible electric gadgets and flickering lights. I could have been that weird guy down the street that is collecting snail slime from the neighborhood yards in little blue glass jars. I could be comfortable with being that way if I had a lot of money.

It seems that was not in the cards.

Instead, I have become a foreman for a national specialty subcontractor. That means that my company purchases and installs specialty items for construction companies. “What is a specialty item?” you might ask. A specialty item is anything from anodized angle brackets to zippered zebra skin doors. It can be anything that an architect can want and imagine. (A strange lot)

I worked my way to being a foreman with this company. I did not grease my way into the position by kissing asses and performing deviant sexual acts for morons. I simply took my job seriously and did the best I could and worked at my job every day. They decided that they trusted me enough to let me run work for them in different states.

When I think back to the projects that I have worked on and the things that I have accomplished, I find that I don’t miss being an inventor one damn bit.

Is that what they call ‘job satisfaction’?

Why do I always get all the stupid questions?

I have to keep explaining to people that I don’t know what someone else was thinking when they made this decision or that decision that does not seem to make any sense. How in hell would I know what someone else was thinking? Do they think I have a secret mirror that looks into people’s brains that I have not told myself about? They should ask the person that is actually involved with that decision making process and leave me the hell out of it!

I usually respond to a stupid question with this line; “I don’t know, but perhaps you can answer something for me; why would God put a wet runny think like your nose right over your mouth?”

They seldom get it. Sarcasm and irony are wasted on most people.

I am always surprised at the lack of thought that goes into everyday life. In the new day and age, people seem to think that they should be handed the answers to everything and that thinking is too hard. If you give someone a problem to solve, they will ask you to give them the solution before you are finished describing the problem.

I just don’t get it.

Have we become so lazy as a society that even something as inactive as thinking is too hard? Has the age of instant gratification made thinking too difficult? Has TV ruined our brains and turned them into semi functioning jello-like substance that barely succeeds in keeping our skulls full of something?

“The conclusion is where you got tired of thinking” seems to sum up how we look at problems. This is usually occurs right after we begin and before we actually do something.

I used to think that schools were supposed to teach these things, but learned that they do not and have no intention to. It’s too hard.

“You can lead a child to knowledge, but you can’t make him think.”

I began a rather pithy and bitter post, but failed to finish it in a blaze of bah fucking humbug.

Since my escape from Hell, I have been trying to make some changes in my life. I am trying to be a better husband, a better man, and get in better shape.

These things take time and energy. The funny thing about getting in better shape is that the more you exercise, the more you CAN exercise. A few weeks ago it was effort to just get through one workout with the Mrs. and not walk like an old man with hip problems. Yesterday we worked out and I felt great after we were done and even mustered the energy to go for a short bicycle ride later in the day.

Progress is being made.

My work life is rather boring right now (Which is a very good thing) and I am only working eight hour days. This seems like a vacation after the long days that I worked for a long time. I intend to take advantage of this time and relax. I am certain that I will be called to work long hours again soon.

I have been writing more, but very little makes it to here. I fit in my writing mostly in the wee hours before the rest of the word wakes, and that limits what gets done.

But I am working on it. This makes me feel better and I am sure that there is more material for here in the near future.

Troll is touching himself and saying, “I’m feeling MUCH better now”.

Sorry. Those of you who might know me from a long time ago would know what that means, but I doubt that anyone that reads this will get it.

I seem to be recovering, but still feel stuffy in one ear. This makes listening difficult. Two days ago both ears felt this way, so any improvement is good.

I have been suffering from a burst of energy and have been doing many things around the house. It’s about time too. I have let too many things go in the time I was on the road.

I have begun exercising with the Mrs. and this has progressed to the point where I actually got out the bicycle again and put it on the road.

In my long lost past I used to ride almost everywhere and even just a few years ago I was doing 40 mile weekends fairly regularly. I am hoping to take it up again because I have always loved it. Riding is a great time to think and take time to look at things. It is good for the soul and the body.

Now that the kids are grown it is time to make changes in the way I live. I have always looked forward to this time in my life, and I think it has finally arrived.

I just better not get perky and nice. If that happens I will have to drown myself in a bucket of molten lead.

I have been sick again.

I was finally forced to see a doctor this week. They kinda threw me out of work, and seeing as how my former primary doctor will no longer take my insurance, I went to urgent care.

This was not a totally bad experience. I feel that I was treated well and thoroughly.

I have been fighting the ‘Capella Crud’ for far too long and it was winning. I was diagnosed with bronchitis and given a lot of drugs to take after being treated with a nebulizer in the urgent care center. (Twice)

Four days later it is remarkable how much better I feel. My mind was weak and my body was unable to do much. Now I want to dye the dog’s hair pink and give her a Mohawk haircut.

Soon, I have to begin thinking of all the work that is ahead of me. I have at least two projects coming up shortly out of town and probably should be preparing the Doghouse for travel, but have been procrastinating because it has been far too good to be home for a while.

This year had been hard on me. I have been sick for much of it and don’t think I ever really recovered. I hope this is the last round and that I can get back to having a life. I am so tired of being tired that I think I will take a nap.

I just found this file and thought I would post it. If we are being picky it should be read before the one below it, but I am not feeling like it is that important at this time.

From HELL I rode….

Yesterday I left Telluride for (hopefully) the last time.

I am still somewhat in shock at the general conditions at that jobsite. Now that I am home for a short while, I hope to discharge some of the detritus that has accumulated in my lungs and mind.

I found my sense of irony aroused when I was loading my truck for my final escape. I heard a noise that sounded like a worker type person going about his/her worker like business. When I investigated, it turned out to be a woodpecker trying valiantly to peck his/her way through some metal roofing material. That single act seemed to sum up my feelings about my work in this place; trying to bash my head through metal. It won’t hurt the metal and it will give me one hell of a headache.

It is nice to have some unrelated act bring a sense of completion to a job like this.

Now that I am back at Sanctuary I feel out of place here, too. That seems to be one of the problems with being on the road all the time; all places start feeling like you don’t quite belong.

I have been spending time working on the Doghouse to get ready to go back on the road next month. This winter was kinda hard on the place and I am still not done. There was a protective layer of dust everywhere that required industrial vacuuming and a dose of cleaning solution.

Is it just me, or was this last winter dusty in the Southwest? Telluride had incredible amounts of dust to the point that tourists were complaining that someone should clean the dirt from the snow. (True) My truck became brown over red from the accumulated dirt that was falling from the sky. I always thought of mountain snow as white and pristine just to learn that when it is not fresh it is brown and dirty looking.

On my drive back to Sanctuary, I went through all of spring in about 3 hours. Near Telluride there is still melting snow and the spring runoff has just begun. Before long it was 70 degrees and I had the air conditioner running. One whole season in less than three hours. Maybe I am having a time warp?

I have not been here. I know this. I am back in Sanctuary, but have been failing at an attempt to recover from the latest round of the Capella Crud.

I have become convinced that the aliens are using that place as an experiment in disease vector. They have a plan. I think they are creating something more virulent than the swine flu and more tenacious than a summer cold.

Do the aliens have gender? How do you tell a ‘he’ alien from a ‘she’ alien? Why do they want to probe anuses? Do I really want to know?

I am working in Albuquerque for a while. This seems to make some people nervous. After being gone for about two years on the road, readjusting to home life is challenging.
I did not even realize it had been that long. After the first few times, all the days away seem to run together. A place is just another place, and it is still not home.

I discovered that I did not miss home as much as I should.

Home can get away from you all too quickly and become another place. Warning for all you travelers out there; when home becomes just another place, you have been out of touch for too long.

On a lighter note, I have been writing again, just not here. I am certain in the near future the Muse shall bite me on the ass and I shall be back with tongue in cheek and venom on my tongue.

I was told last week that I will be leaving Telluride at the end of the April.

My joy is without limits.

Telluride is a beautiful place, with great mountain views and a quaint atmosphere. I will not be sorry to leave just because this particular jobsite has been the worst place I have ever been asked to work. It is difficult to know just who is really responsible for these conditions, but whoever it is should be put in the field to see what things are really like instead of hiding in a climate controlled office with filtered air and thermostats.

‘What one can’t cure, one must endure’; and I will no longer have to endure.

From what I hear, I should be happy that I have another job to go to. Trades people from all over the country are telling me that they have no place to go after this is over. I have been very lucky over the years and should not whine and bitch about the lousy jobs, but I *DO* appreciate all the good ones I have been on, which far outnumber the sites-from-hell.

I predict that the run of bad sites is over for a while and I can get back to having a life outside of work and thinking about something other than how much I hate a place.

I can’t wait.

I think that I have been pretty clear in the fact that I do not like people; individuals I can like just fine, but people in general I do not understand.

Then my work circumstances forced me to share a house with two other individuals. I have tried to make the best of things and just buck up and take it. In my own defense I think I have done a very good job of not being mean to anybody in the house, even when I wanted to hide rotten shellfish in someone’s bedroom or urinate in his sock drawer.

I ended up with the roommate from the retarded version of the Brady Bunch. He acts just like the middle boy from the popular TV show if he were mildly retarded. (I guess that to be politically correct I should call him ‘challenged’ but for the shock value I shall continue to call him ‘retarded’.)

When he first arrived at the house he complained about how difficult it was living with other people and how he always did things this way and so on and so forth. He proclaimed his special needs and took over the kitchen every night to prepare his special diet while not leaving room for anyone else to prepare a meal. The other roommate and I learned to just leave him alone, pretty much changing our schedule to avoid all contact with him in order to not have to listen to his never ending stupid questions and criticisms.

We segregated ourselves from him as much as we could, limiting ourselves to having to clean up after him and dealing with him in the early morning right before work, then feeling relief when he went out to wait for the short buss to the jobsite and smoke cigarettes, standing in the cold and staring into space while muttering to himself.

He quickly became the laughing stock of the crew. His imagined superiority made him difficult to be around and he was quick to tell everyone that we are all doing everything wrong. One particular highlight was when he proclaimed to anyone that would listen that the guy that he was working with could not even use simple tools and should not be working with us. The guy that supposedly can’t use tools has been with the company for over seven years and is a foreman, now the retarded guy’s boss.

Now that things are winding on down the job it is time for layoffs. My retarded roommate made the first cut. He was stunned. The day he was told he could not accept it and told anyone that would listen that it was not fair and that he could not understand why they would choose him. I got to the house before him that night and immediately hid in my room, making it difficult for him to complain to me.

Now the guy that could not stand living here seems to not want to go. He was laid off two days ago and is still living in the house. (Supposedly to go skiing.) I think that he believes that it is all a joke and that he will be called back to work, saving us all from certain doom. Many comments he has made to me in the past leads me to believe that he is delusional and in need of a mental health professional, so I would not be surprised to learn that he has convinced himself that he was hired by us for some higher purpose and that he is destined to save us all from ourselves and finally receive the recognition he deserves.

So far he has failed gloriously failed to do so.