Okay, I smell like smoke. In the last 4 hours, I've visited and spent more time in bars than I have altogether in the last two years and subsequently been hit on by more broads, respectively. My ego would be served by the second participle of the last sentence if only the "ladies", and I use that term lightly, would have been under the age of 35.
Yes, folks. I'm back in Hamilton.
I called up one of the very best friends I've ever had in Joe "Southpaw" Bradish. He was my best friend for years, along with the best first basemen I had ever played with, as well as the only perons I've ever known whose love of the Cubs could rival mine own.
Joe's back from Korea now, and unemployed. So basically, we went drinkin'.
We called up my cousin, Zach, and met him at the "gay bar." An esablishment in the next town of Warsaw, owned by two Gay "life mates." Apparently, its the place to be. So there we went. We sat down and played pool, the three of us, and the guy who lived next door to Zach growing up, Eric Morehouse. Eric, I discovered, is going to graduate with a computer science degree, even though he hates computers. He still drives the 45 minutes home from WIU to work in neighboring Keokuk, IA's Wal-Mart on every weekend. He hates that too. He was drinking Bud-Lite, which, believe it or not, he also hates.
I think you're seeing how the evening went.
WELP! You're wrong, my friends! I actually had a pretty good time. Once I got over getting hit on by drunk much older ladies, and the smoke, and the bad country music, and the "freebird" being played on the jukebox, literally, every other song, the times were good. Joe and I mopped the floor with Zach and Eric on the pool table, and I got to see no less than 5 or 6 girls who "used to be hot" walk through the door.
I also had fun explaining to people how Baylor is actually in Texas. Even more fun was the automatic 2 part respect I instantly received from whomever I happened to be talking. The first part was that I had actually escaped. The second part was that I was actually at a good school. They had heard of Baylor, though they couldn't remember why... I was quick to point out that it was the "Harvard of the South." They didn't disagree...
Anyway, we ended up getting lost in the country on our way over to a friend's house. Classic Hamilton passtime.
I've realized that Hamilton is a great place to "be from." Like it or not, this will be and always remain, my home town. I don't have to like it, though I imagine I will always love it.
My home is in Texas, but a large part of my heart is and I "reckon" always will be, in Hamilton, Illinois 62341.
Saturday, May 22, 2004
Thursday, May 20, 2004
Fire!
Okay guys.
Its about 1 A.M. I'm supposed to be asleep because I somehow got drafted to go upon my grandmother's roof, when she knows I'm deathly afraid of heights (I always feel like this set of mickey-mouse hands are going to reach up and pull me over the edge) and re-roof it, at 8 AM. But of course, I'm checking the Cubs' score, because it might have changed in the last 5 minutes? Anyways, I hear my wonderfully smart dog, Irish wimper so as to say "Look, Neil, something's going on outside... maybe someone's stuck in a well".
Of course his sanguine wimpers are nearly drowned out by my older sister's Bitch (I can say that, she is, in fact, a female dog) barking her damned head off.
So, naturally, I go to the door. What do I see but flashing lights upon the trees in our yard. I lean out the door and look down the street and there are TONS of lights. My first thought, "Aliens"; the Hamilton Po-po's finally realized that the broken-down house down the street who always has a different car parked out in front of it doesn't belong to "car-dealers." But then my huge snoz caught a wiff of the sweet spring air and methinks I smelled burning rubber.
So I follow what was quickly becoming a congregation of my fellow neighbors down the street to see what the comotion was. Now, let me tell you, everyone was there. Mrs. Backer, Mrs. Ancelot, Mrs. Connaly. Didn't anyone leave this town? Besides, there were more moo-moos there than an Indian Temple. (Austin slaughterhouse? Barry Manilow concert? eh, I'm working on it)
I find that the house that was in flames was, in fact, The Ruark's. I think that's how you spell it.
Here's the weird thing. I was running the Bear Trail, I mean walking the Bear Trail, Okay, walking to McDonalds last week when I had a random thought. Mark Ruark, whatever in the name of Super-fly Jimmy Snooka's Bunghole happened to him? I remember he was the guy who made being the Hamilton Cardinal Mascot Cool. Yeah, I said it.
That kid was hard-core. I remember how he could do a standing back-flip. No Hands. He would do summersaults and cartwheels with the big cardinal head on. I remember when we went to state, and he got into a fight with the other mascot and kicked his ass. I also remember him with a bloody nose afterwards... oh well.
So anyways, I was just thinking about that kid no more than a day or two ago when I come home and see his house burning down. I don't mean to sound cavalier, I just thought it was weird.
Its about 1 A.M. I'm supposed to be asleep because I somehow got drafted to go upon my grandmother's roof, when she knows I'm deathly afraid of heights (I always feel like this set of mickey-mouse hands are going to reach up and pull me over the edge) and re-roof it, at 8 AM. But of course, I'm checking the Cubs' score, because it might have changed in the last 5 minutes? Anyways, I hear my wonderfully smart dog, Irish wimper so as to say "Look, Neil, something's going on outside... maybe someone's stuck in a well".
Of course his sanguine wimpers are nearly drowned out by my older sister's Bitch (I can say that, she is, in fact, a female dog) barking her damned head off.
So, naturally, I go to the door. What do I see but flashing lights upon the trees in our yard. I lean out the door and look down the street and there are TONS of lights. My first thought, "Aliens"; the Hamilton Po-po's finally realized that the broken-down house down the street who always has a different car parked out in front of it doesn't belong to "car-dealers." But then my huge snoz caught a wiff of the sweet spring air and methinks I smelled burning rubber.
So I follow what was quickly becoming a congregation of my fellow neighbors down the street to see what the comotion was. Now, let me tell you, everyone was there. Mrs. Backer, Mrs. Ancelot, Mrs. Connaly. Didn't anyone leave this town? Besides, there were more moo-moos there than an Indian Temple. (Austin slaughterhouse? Barry Manilow concert? eh, I'm working on it)
I find that the house that was in flames was, in fact, The Ruark's. I think that's how you spell it.
Here's the weird thing. I was running the Bear Trail, I mean walking the Bear Trail, Okay, walking to McDonalds last week when I had a random thought. Mark Ruark, whatever in the name of Super-fly Jimmy Snooka's Bunghole happened to him? I remember he was the guy who made being the Hamilton Cardinal Mascot Cool. Yeah, I said it.
That kid was hard-core. I remember how he could do a standing back-flip. No Hands. He would do summersaults and cartwheels with the big cardinal head on. I remember when we went to state, and he got into a fight with the other mascot and kicked his ass. I also remember him with a bloody nose afterwards... oh well.
So anyways, I was just thinking about that kid no more than a day or two ago when I come home and see his house burning down. I don't mean to sound cavalier, I just thought it was weird.
Tuesday, May 04, 2004
Moshi-Moshi?
I think I'm a pretty darn laid-back person. I take joy in just going with the flow. In life, there are only so many things we really have any say in, so shouldn't the amount of worry we invest, correlate?
But those things I do sweat, truly do get to me. I'm not sure I can reconcile any of them. But I guess that doesn't stop them from existing.
#3. Phone etiquette. I cannot stand it when people are rude on the phone. Usually in life, we have many nonverbal ways to communicate and leave impressions upon people. However, when we're on the phone, we rely completely upon our words, tone and verbiage. That is why I so value what you do or don't say. I have had my sisters' suitors and friends (mine and my brother's) actually hang up and call me back.
Here's an example:
Ring Ring
Me: Hello?
Random Dude: Is Beth there?
M: excuse me?
R: um, is Beth there?
M: I heard you.
R: ... huh?.... wha?...
M:Well when you put it that way... Nevermind, who is this?
R:Um... Johnny.
M:AH! Hello, John. My name is Neil Golemo.
R:cool
M:Do you understand what just happened? That's what most people call an "INTRO-DUUUCTION". Yeah. They're nice.
R:cool. Beth there?
M:Okay ,(I sigh), John, this is how this will work. You're going to hang up, sit there by your phone with a bewildered look, think to yourself "what the heck just happened", and then you're going to call back. 9 in 10 chance that the phone will be picked up by yours truly. And you know what I'd like to hear from you?
R:um, my name?
M:Nice. Talk to you in a few, John.
R:Kay...
Ring Ring
M:Hello?
R:Um, Hi... This is... um... John, I'm a friend of Beth's.
M:Hello, John. I'm Neil, Elizabeth's gun-owning, older, brother. How may I help you?
R:Uh... um... yeah, would it be alright if I talked to Beth?
M:Oh, John, I'm sorry, she's at her friend's for the night. Would it be alright if I left her a message from you?
R:Uh, naw I'll just talk to her later...
(I'm usually choking in laughter from the awkwardness felt on one side of this conversation)
M:Well, I'll let her know you cared. Do you have a last name, John?
R:Yes
M:.... Nicely put, John. Okay, well its been a pleasure, John. I hope you have a nice day!
R:... uh yeah, you too.
M:God bless
CLICK
I think I just changed a life. You may think I'm torturing this kid. Yes, yes I am a little. But he's calling my sister, I guess I'm just preparing him for the long-run. In any case, how are you going to call a girl's house and be anything other than on your best behavior? tsk tsk. I did that fool a favor.
#2. People who talk on cell phones while you're with them. Barring emergencies, serious business or a returned call, I can see no real reason that this should be allowed. Its rude. Really rude. First of all, its an exclusive conversation. Its not exactly like when you're working out with a friend and an old friend of theirs walks up. This is a chance to meet another potential friend. I get to introduce myself and interact.
I've been to dinner with people and they have insisted upon having an extended, (and pointless, I might add), conversation with an old girlfriend/boyfriend while I get to sit and eat my food, look furtively around the room, wonder how many breadsticks I could wrap in a napkin and stick and still escape the restaurant with an acceptable amount of sneers from my fellow patrons...
To me, if someone calls, and you must pick it up, please, state the obvious, that you're with someone and ask when the best time to return their call is. Most of the time, I won't even pick up the phone. If you get a busy signal, its probably because I'm busy. Sorry.
Related to this pet peeve, are people whom I call when they're with people and they talk to me anyway. I don't want to be "that guy". I know for a fact how annoying this is. If you're going to be a jerk, I don't necessarily want to aid and abed.
#1. The number one Pet Peeve on my list is the sound of people eating. This includes, slurping soup from a spoon, slurping coke from a can, lip-smacking, stuffing your face so full you have to breath through your nose making it whistle (you get the idea). When I say this is my number one Pet Peeve, I mean it. I've literally punched my brother over this. Mostly because the little punk is doing it on purpose, but also largely because it so infuriates me.
I don't know what it is that so infuriates me. I really cannot trace its pathology. It just merely is.
But those things I do sweat, truly do get to me. I'm not sure I can reconcile any of them. But I guess that doesn't stop them from existing.
#3. Phone etiquette. I cannot stand it when people are rude on the phone. Usually in life, we have many nonverbal ways to communicate and leave impressions upon people. However, when we're on the phone, we rely completely upon our words, tone and verbiage. That is why I so value what you do or don't say. I have had my sisters' suitors and friends (mine and my brother's) actually hang up and call me back.
Here's an example:
Ring Ring
Me: Hello?
Random Dude: Is Beth there?
M: excuse me?
R: um, is Beth there?
M: I heard you.
R: ... huh?.... wha?...
M:Well when you put it that way... Nevermind, who is this?
R:Um... Johnny.
M:AH! Hello, John. My name is Neil Golemo.
R:cool
M:Do you understand what just happened? That's what most people call an "INTRO-DUUUCTION". Yeah. They're nice.
R:cool. Beth there?
M:Okay ,(I sigh), John, this is how this will work. You're going to hang up, sit there by your phone with a bewildered look, think to yourself "what the heck just happened", and then you're going to call back. 9 in 10 chance that the phone will be picked up by yours truly. And you know what I'd like to hear from you?
R:um, my name?
M:Nice. Talk to you in a few, John.
R:Kay...
Ring Ring
M:Hello?
R:Um, Hi... This is... um... John, I'm a friend of Beth's.
M:Hello, John. I'm Neil, Elizabeth's gun-owning, older, brother. How may I help you?
R:Uh... um... yeah, would it be alright if I talked to Beth?
M:Oh, John, I'm sorry, she's at her friend's for the night. Would it be alright if I left her a message from you?
R:Uh, naw I'll just talk to her later...
(I'm usually choking in laughter from the awkwardness felt on one side of this conversation)
M:Well, I'll let her know you cared. Do you have a last name, John?
R:Yes
M:.... Nicely put, John. Okay, well its been a pleasure, John. I hope you have a nice day!
R:... uh yeah, you too.
M:God bless
CLICK
I think I just changed a life. You may think I'm torturing this kid. Yes, yes I am a little. But he's calling my sister, I guess I'm just preparing him for the long-run. In any case, how are you going to call a girl's house and be anything other than on your best behavior? tsk tsk. I did that fool a favor.
#2. People who talk on cell phones while you're with them. Barring emergencies, serious business or a returned call, I can see no real reason that this should be allowed. Its rude. Really rude. First of all, its an exclusive conversation. Its not exactly like when you're working out with a friend and an old friend of theirs walks up. This is a chance to meet another potential friend. I get to introduce myself and interact.
I've been to dinner with people and they have insisted upon having an extended, (and pointless, I might add), conversation with an old girlfriend/boyfriend while I get to sit and eat my food, look furtively around the room, wonder how many breadsticks I could wrap in a napkin and stick and still escape the restaurant with an acceptable amount of sneers from my fellow patrons...
To me, if someone calls, and you must pick it up, please, state the obvious, that you're with someone and ask when the best time to return their call is. Most of the time, I won't even pick up the phone. If you get a busy signal, its probably because I'm busy. Sorry.
Related to this pet peeve, are people whom I call when they're with people and they talk to me anyway. I don't want to be "that guy". I know for a fact how annoying this is. If you're going to be a jerk, I don't necessarily want to aid and abed.
#1. The number one Pet Peeve on my list is the sound of people eating. This includes, slurping soup from a spoon, slurping coke from a can, lip-smacking, stuffing your face so full you have to breath through your nose making it whistle (you get the idea). When I say this is my number one Pet Peeve, I mean it. I've literally punched my brother over this. Mostly because the little punk is doing it on purpose, but also largely because it so infuriates me.
I don't know what it is that so infuriates me. I really cannot trace its pathology. It just merely is.
Saturday, May 01, 2004
Freeeeeeeeeeedooooooooom!!!!!!!!!!!
So I was singing the "Star Spangled Banner" in the shower the other night and I began to think about the definition of the word "freedom."
What is "freedom"?
I think there is many kinds of freedom. There's freedom in the Mel Gibson-Braveheart kind of way. The kind of freedom that Hollywood and over-zealous war veterans exhort to us can only be bought through the blood of countless heroes. The kind of freedom that can only come from countless mortally-wounded patriots raising a flag on some God-forgotten piece of terra.
This time of year, the word "freedom" might illicit thoughts of Spring days and Summer Vacation. Of bikini's and Disney World. Of our days starting at noon and dinners cooked to order by our mothers.
There's the freedom that can only be described as that feeling you get after you step out of the classroom after having taken that huge test that was dragging you down like a tire-iron tied to your neck. For better or worse, you're done.
Only slightly less serious, is that feeling of freedom that comes after the really hot girl (or guy, I guess) you've been suffering through a terribly anxious conversation with leaves because you've got really bad gas. (One of my residents told me that's why he always "walks and talks"...)
Now that we've delineated all these different forms of freedom, what do they mean? I mean, what does it really mean to be free? Can total freedom ever truly exist?
I was watching an episode of "Da Ali G" with some of my residents when he pulls out one of his alter-egos, "the gay guy". And of course, he goes to "the gayest place in the world... Alabama!" After a few hi-jinx including: cheering in leather pants and a pink mesh shirt with the Crimson Tide cheerleaders at a football game, interviewing a football player and asking him what messages he has for his "huge gay following in Amsterdam", and nearly inciting mob-violence from some extra homophobic Alabamans, he decided to go to the "Patriotism Convention."
His first interview was with an older man who had some choice words to say about the U.S. Government being all up in his business. He said that he believed in "freedom".
So, to that Ali G says: "Vell, en my country, freedoms mean zat I can valk hands-en-hands vith my boyfriend, Armando, downs ze street and nots have to sthink a sing abouts et."
The Patriot basically begins to go off on Ali G and basically makes more of an ass of himself than the viewer thought him before... if that was possible. But this all begs the question, "isn't one man's freedom, another man's oppression?"
Take religion, for instance. We have freedom of religion here in America, but do we always enjoy freedom from it? Prayer in schools is such a sticky subject. Its like Christians automatically have the moral high-road on this just because they're Christians. I'm sorry, but I'm not so sure I agree. Just because prayer is a good thing, doesn't always mean its a good thing. I know people who pray for the extermination of all the Muslim traitors to the faith. Am I the only one weirded out by that?
Here on this campus, which I DO LOVE, I can't go a week, without having my breakfast, lunch or dinner interrupted by some crazy Antioch freak witnessing to me. Don't get me wrong, I respect them for having the guts to risk the annoyance of so many to possibly reach a few, but don't they realize that they're causing some people some real and honest discomfort? I mean, the reason many of these people get away with this is because they know that if someone kicks them out, they're going to feel like a modern Anti-Christ. Also, in more than a couple of the Sub-Way sermons I've heard, the speaker uses nothing but guilt-trips and soft deceits stemming from irresponsible shot-gunning of scripture verses here and there. Maybe I'm a little conservative, but I think that using verses purposefully out of context just to prove a point and take advantage of someone else's ignorance is blasphemy.
But I digress...
What is freedom? Is there really freedom with Christ? I mean, isn't it true that when we decide to become followers of Christ, we choose to amend our ways of thinking and being to that of his? Yeah, the uber-liberal Christian would pull out the Gospel reading where Jesus talks about the "Ass and the well." (why does Chad and Mark always come to mind when someone mentions that?) Anyways, no Christian can deny that we are giving up some real "freedoms" when we decide to follow Christ. There are options that are not now, well, options to us anymore.
So what freedom do we, really have? I mean, C'mon, lets break it down to the basics. When you really think about it all we really have is the freedom of choice. Christianity vs. Buddhism. Baylor vs. Bradley. Count Chocula vs. Lucky Charms. Okay, so we all know that Count Chocula sucks and anyone with a brain in their head is going to choose Lucky Charms. But my point is that you DO have that choice. Even if the choice is "smart" vs. "incredibly stupid", you have that choice! Ya feel me, dog?
So that's it. That's freedom? Everything else is an illusion? Or merely nothing more than a bunch of societal constructs made up of tiny morsels of "yes or no" choices?
Hmmph. Sounds good. Now that I've exercised my brain, I'm going to go play some basketball, or will it be raquetball?
What is "freedom"?
I think there is many kinds of freedom. There's freedom in the Mel Gibson-Braveheart kind of way. The kind of freedom that Hollywood and over-zealous war veterans exhort to us can only be bought through the blood of countless heroes. The kind of freedom that can only come from countless mortally-wounded patriots raising a flag on some God-forgotten piece of terra.
This time of year, the word "freedom" might illicit thoughts of Spring days and Summer Vacation. Of bikini's and Disney World. Of our days starting at noon and dinners cooked to order by our mothers.
There's the freedom that can only be described as that feeling you get after you step out of the classroom after having taken that huge test that was dragging you down like a tire-iron tied to your neck. For better or worse, you're done.
Only slightly less serious, is that feeling of freedom that comes after the really hot girl (or guy, I guess) you've been suffering through a terribly anxious conversation with leaves because you've got really bad gas. (One of my residents told me that's why he always "walks and talks"...)
Now that we've delineated all these different forms of freedom, what do they mean? I mean, what does it really mean to be free? Can total freedom ever truly exist?
I was watching an episode of "Da Ali G" with some of my residents when he pulls out one of his alter-egos, "the gay guy". And of course, he goes to "the gayest place in the world... Alabama!" After a few hi-jinx including: cheering in leather pants and a pink mesh shirt with the Crimson Tide cheerleaders at a football game, interviewing a football player and asking him what messages he has for his "huge gay following in Amsterdam", and nearly inciting mob-violence from some extra homophobic Alabamans, he decided to go to the "Patriotism Convention."
His first interview was with an older man who had some choice words to say about the U.S. Government being all up in his business. He said that he believed in "freedom".
So, to that Ali G says: "Vell, en my country, freedoms mean zat I can valk hands-en-hands vith my boyfriend, Armando, downs ze street and nots have to sthink a sing abouts et."
The Patriot basically begins to go off on Ali G and basically makes more of an ass of himself than the viewer thought him before... if that was possible. But this all begs the question, "isn't one man's freedom, another man's oppression?"
Take religion, for instance. We have freedom of religion here in America, but do we always enjoy freedom from it? Prayer in schools is such a sticky subject. Its like Christians automatically have the moral high-road on this just because they're Christians. I'm sorry, but I'm not so sure I agree. Just because prayer is a good thing, doesn't always mean its a good thing. I know people who pray for the extermination of all the Muslim traitors to the faith. Am I the only one weirded out by that?
Here on this campus, which I DO LOVE, I can't go a week, without having my breakfast, lunch or dinner interrupted by some crazy Antioch freak witnessing to me. Don't get me wrong, I respect them for having the guts to risk the annoyance of so many to possibly reach a few, but don't they realize that they're causing some people some real and honest discomfort? I mean, the reason many of these people get away with this is because they know that if someone kicks them out, they're going to feel like a modern Anti-Christ. Also, in more than a couple of the Sub-Way sermons I've heard, the speaker uses nothing but guilt-trips and soft deceits stemming from irresponsible shot-gunning of scripture verses here and there. Maybe I'm a little conservative, but I think that using verses purposefully out of context just to prove a point and take advantage of someone else's ignorance is blasphemy.
But I digress...
What is freedom? Is there really freedom with Christ? I mean, isn't it true that when we decide to become followers of Christ, we choose to amend our ways of thinking and being to that of his? Yeah, the uber-liberal Christian would pull out the Gospel reading where Jesus talks about the "Ass and the well." (why does Chad and Mark always come to mind when someone mentions that?) Anyways, no Christian can deny that we are giving up some real "freedoms" when we decide to follow Christ. There are options that are not now, well, options to us anymore.
So what freedom do we, really have? I mean, C'mon, lets break it down to the basics. When you really think about it all we really have is the freedom of choice. Christianity vs. Buddhism. Baylor vs. Bradley. Count Chocula vs. Lucky Charms. Okay, so we all know that Count Chocula sucks and anyone with a brain in their head is going to choose Lucky Charms. But my point is that you DO have that choice. Even if the choice is "smart" vs. "incredibly stupid", you have that choice! Ya feel me, dog?
So that's it. That's freedom? Everything else is an illusion? Or merely nothing more than a bunch of societal constructs made up of tiny morsels of "yes or no" choices?
Hmmph. Sounds good. Now that I've exercised my brain, I'm going to go play some basketball, or will it be raquetball?
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