Attention Defecit and Hyperactive Disorder is being diagnosed a lot more these days.  I would say “It’s about damn time!” but man, I’ve been dealing with it for a long time without taking Ritalin and a lot of other drugs that kept it in check.  I needed that impulsive, crazy streak in me to be … well … Me.

     Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, on the other hand, has become the “new” diagnosis for a lot of things.  I had a lot of bad stuff happen as a child — and adult, even every more recently — and, ya know, I’m actually starting to realize, “Yeah, too much of that stuff does stick with ya.”  Crap, I never realized how much, actually. 

     I’ve always said, “You can’t be a slave to your past.”

     I’ve always judged a lot of people, too.  “Get over your shit, and get on with your life.”

     Funny how things have a way of coming back to bite you in the ass, isn’t it?

     The unknown …

     You can either take a chance or never make a decision.

     I figure it this way.  Back in the Garden of Eden, there was a forbidden fruit.  Eve chose to eat it.  Adam chose to eat it.  They got punished for it.  And God kinda said, “Hey, now you guys know right from wrong.  You make your own circumstances.  Deal with it.”
     That’s about where the religious part of it ends, tho.  I mean, hey, I pray.  I pray to be able to deal with what’s going on.  I very rarely pray for much else.

     I’m dealing with my as best I can.  I got a new notebook today, because, well, mine were both trashed.  I had a dead screen on one, and the other won’t work when it’s plugged in.

     What I’m saying is, I’m getting there.

     Might be slowly, but when I think it’s only been a few weeks, too, hey …

     The Unknown …

     I miss my Wildcat.  I need her encouragement.  I never needed that from anyone before — I just did what I did, and didn’t give a damn about anything else.

     And maybe, just maybe, she’ll end up feeling that way … and we can grow a garden.

      I love you, baby.

     Everyone knows everything everyone else does small towns, although they live quite a distance apart.  One day, in my best redneck accent (I do voices quite well, and though it’s dead-on, you’ll rarely meet anyone who sounds as inbred as I do when I do it), I quipped, “By God, you could fart at one end o’ th’ county and by the time ya git to th’ other end, ever’body knows what it smelt like!”
     They died laughing, although they didn’t like that I said “fart.”

     Good thing they don’t hear some of the other words I say on a regular basis…

     One of the things I’ve always known is that there are many factions in small towns.  There are people who it’s okay to talk to, and there are people who it’s not.  That’s kind can get tricky, because quite honestly, I talk to everybody and don’t care about that kind of stuff.  Generally, people don’t bother to get upset with me about it, because I’m a ”nice guy.”
     One of the unique things, tho, is the constant use of the archaic word “queer” to describe these people you’re not supposed to talk to or “watch out” for. Although, it has nothing to do with someone’s sexual preference, and is pronounced quite differently…  
     One day, I asked, “Quare?  How ya spell ‘at?  Like ’square’ without the ’s’?”
     This resulted in the age-old, universal, one-fingered gesture in my general direction.
     To which I replied, “Well, ain’t that mighty Christian of ya?!”

     Also good for a laugh.

     A couple of weeks ago, after hearing about how everyone in town was “queer,” someone asked me, “So, Mark, how ya like it here?”
     I said, “I dunno.  They’s too many quares.”
     “What?” they asked, shocked.
     “Yeah, by God, ever’body I talk to, they tell me, he’s quare, she’s quare, and by God, they even told me you was, too!”
     The blank look was priceless.

     Give it a minute, give it a minute… Yep, they died laughing. 

     Another incident happened when an elderly gentleman came up and said, “Oh, man, it’s a beautiful day!  I’m gonna home and work in my garden!  Do you have a garden, Mark?”
     “No, sir,” I replied.  Keeping a straight face, I added, “My girl won’t let me play with hoes.”
     One person who overheard the conversation cupped her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.  It took him a minute to catch on.

     Now every time I see him, he laughs, and tells me, “Stay away from them hoes!”

     Another day, I was answering questions about some software when I leaned forward and hit my funny bone on the edge of the desk.  My uncontrollable reaction was to blurt out, “Motherf…” at which point, I caught myself and stopped the profanity midstream.
     She ignored it, and continued her explanation of the software issue without skipping a beat.
     I gave her the answer and showed her an alternative method to do what she was asking.
     She responded to the answer, and added, “And, by the way, I know that must have hurt.  But next time, just go ahead and finish the word because we all knew what you were thinking, anyway.”

     Laughter is always good medicine.

     And being just slightly off-color does tend to relax even the most uptight people.

     Older people, especially, seem to enjoy it even more…

     There’s something that’s bothered me for a long, long time, and it’s changed my behavior a little.

     If I walk up to a door to open it, I glance around to see if anyone else is close.  If they are, I hold it open for them.  It’s a simple thing, that most people don’t do at all any more.

     Some people are semi-thankful, but can’t really be bothered to do much more than nod or half-grunt a, “Thanks,” before continuing to walk blindly around not paying attention to anyone else around them.

     Occasionally, you get one of the uber-Feminists who will rip you a new butt for holding her door open.  She’s perfectly capable of doing it herself, and what a chauvanistic piece of — *BONK!* — as the door hits her in the face, because she’s too busy complaining to note that you let it go and walked away… at which point, you’re demoted to misogynist, and… *rolls eyes*  I always wonder how those types react when they see me hold the door for the guy at the next door…

     Unfortunately, most people these days are asshats and don’t care that I hold the door for them, at all.  Why, no!  I should be privileged for having held their door!  I’m not a antisocial (I’m really not), but stuff like that is exactly why I think the vast majority of people should get bent.

     Needless to say, it is due to the above three classes of people that I don’t stop, hold the door, and wait for people to go through ahead of me.  Bloody hell, half of the population are so brash and rude that they will jump right on through while I’m holding open for my lady, who I really wanted to walk in with…
     Thus, I’m very good about holding it behind me.  And, if I accidentally drop it as someone’s coming, I even go so far as to apologize to them.
     Weird, eh?

     But today, as I walked up to the door to a store, I noticed an elderly woman with a very young teenager approaching.  Ignoring my usual instincts, I stopped, grabbed the door, held it open, and said, “After you!” as I ushered them inside.
     The two looked me right in the eyes, and with large, genuine smiles, said, “Oh, thank you!” in unison.
     Genuine thanks?!  That’s so rare!  I couldn’t help but say something, and when I opened my mouth, “My pleasure!” came tumbling out.
     Again, more smiles.  As they walked on into the store arm-in-arm, they leaned and whispered to one another, patted the others’ arms as they went.

     Simply amazing.

     Nostalgic, even, remember how people used to act when you did some random act of kindness…

     When I was growing up, I spent a lot of time with my grandparents (my father’s) and with a family of sister’s in Knoxville.  Since there weren’t any other kids to play with, I ended up spending most of my time with people who were at least close to retirement.  And it was pretty cool.
     They’d tell me about the things that they did when they were kids, places they’d gone, people they’d met in their lives.  Sometimes, when you’re very young, you don’t understand what they’re telling you.  As you get older, and they fall away, sometimes you’ll remember their words like it was yesterday.
     Their stories, their words, people who grew up here in East Tennessee, probably shaped me more than any parables and punishments my parents ever gave me.

     I can remember a time when people were helpful.  If someone fell, people showed concern instead of walking around them like they didn’t exist.  If someone dropped something, someone would pick it up for them.  If someone was walking with their arms full of shopping, people would open the door for them.  If they saw someone stuck on the side of the road with a dead car, they’d stop, lend a hand, or, when all else failed, a ride to a gas station.
     Those are values that were instilled in me.  If I see someone lying on the ground, I’ll help them up.  If someone drops something — even money — I’ll pick it up and chase them down to give it back.  I hold the door open for anyone who can’t quite do it, and behind me for everyone close.  And if I see two guys trying to push a dead van off the road, I’m certainly gonna stop and lend a hand.
     East Tennessee, even Knoxville, has always been that way.

     Unfortunately, we’re getting a lot of people moving here these days.  Knoxville, especially, is a real-estate boom town.  People are moving here in droves, eager to pick up cheap real-estate and perhaps even know their neighbors.
     Local culture is changing from the open, community-based ideal that we used to enjoy to a selfish, greedy, don’t-get-involved mentality.  It’s starting to feel like Washington, D.C.

     I hate watching things go downhill.

     Tonight, after ordering a pizza at a place which usually takes thirty minutes to prepare one, I got there to find that they’d lost my order.  Now, I was starving, so I’d called ahead.  I told them no bother, decided to go up the street to a restaurant.
     As I left and started back home, traffic was heavy.  I had to wait some time before being able to leave the parking lot.  As I drove down the road, I saw two guys in their late 20’s, maybe early 30’s, pushing a van towards a gas station — with great difficulty, up a small hill.  I didn’t have a place to pull over and help, so I turned around and came back.
     I got out, and gave them the extra leverage they needed to push the van into the parking lot they were trying to get to.

     As I got back in my car, they yelled, “God bless you, man!  Thank you!”
     “No problem, guys,” I yelled.  “Hope it gets better.”
     “Man, thank you so much.”
     “You’re welcome.  Take care.”

     The sad thing is, at least 30 other drivers didn’t give damn.  Maybe they had to be somewhere quickly.  Maybe they were elderly and couldn’t lend a hand.  Maybe they just didn’t see them (*cough* right).

     So why was I different?  Why did I have the two minutes to stop and lend a hand where no one else did?
     I was born here.  I grew up here.  It’s what we’re supposed to do.

     We should be showing the influx of people from other places what it means to be East Tennesseeans … to know our neighbors … to have friends … to walk around giving a damn about someone other than ourselves …

     It saddens me that us East Tennesseeans are losing that…

     Quite honestly, I’d rather get taken a couple times than turn down someone who legitimately needs help.  You can sort of tell…

     Once you say, it’s out there.

     Doesn’t matter if it’s a blog, a conversation with a mentor, a friend, a wife, a lover, a random asshat, or a random idiot screaming about the how the death of Lady Diana affected him on a personal level so deeply that it affected the way he thought about life, the Universe and Everything …

     Sometimes it’s better to just back away …

     Get your thoughts together …

     And if you can’t … or they can’t …

     There’s always tomorrow …

     Sometimes.  *shrug*

     I had some blogs saved up complaining about a Web 2.0 meme I couldn’t finish (sorry), a Wikipedia Article, and the fact that I couldn’t find a suitable Time Lapse artist on the 2nd … So … Here we go …  

     Web 2.0 is an old concept.  We were using the term back in 1999 at a Web Design studio where I worked at as a lead developer… It had to do with the seperation of form and function, an optimized user experience with nearly seamless transitions from Desktop to Web, and ability to allow clients to manipulate that experience in a way that helped them make sense of the data they were viewing.
     Despite the Wikipedia article which says O’Reilly Media quoted it in 2003, the term’s been around for more than 10 years… Seriously, believing that is like believing Al Gore created teh Internets.
     Also contrary to popular belief (especially to a lot of anti-Microsoft asshats), the first real “Web 2.0″ app was Microsoft’s old Exchange Webmail client — thrown away due to its instability, instead of fixed and re-packaged — which boasted more features than even Roundcube Webmail can get away with now.

     This video, however, has only a little to do with any of that.  Instead, it’s a great piece of artwork which highlights the things that’ve happened over the last ten years and gives us some things to think about as we go through our cultural transitions.

(Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6gmP4nk0EOE)

Tip: Sir Rantzalot, more commonly known as Rantz, who, for all practical purposes appears to be a gentleman and a scholar.  Or something.  heh

      “I get up, and nothing gets me down… You got it tough?  I’ve seen the toughest around… I and know, baby, just how you feel… You’ve got to roll with the punches to get to what’s real…”

1. The Misanthtropic: Name something (about humanity) you absolutely hate.

     Most people love to watch train wrecks — you know, those situations that are going to Hell in a handbasket fast?  They enjoy seeing others fail.  That’s a pretty pathetic outlook in my book. 

2. The Meretricious: Expose something or someone that’s phony, fraudulent or bogus.

     That hyper-annoying “Mullah Cimoc“ guy is actually some ‘tard in Utah.  That’s why he got an Asshat of the Day award.

3. The Malcontent: Name something you’re unhappy with.

     I have a *lot* of work to do tomorrow — errr, today, rather — and I’m not looking forward to it.

4. The Meritorious: Give someone credit for something and name it if you can.

     A couple of weeks ago, LissaKay mentioned she had a tatoo.  I figured out where it was last night.  Good job, Lissa!  ROFLMAO

5. The Mirror: See something good about yourself and name it.

     It’s funny.  People come to me expecting me to give them the answers to Life, the Universe and Everything.  They ask for advice on so many subjects, because they know I’ll listen.  The funny thing is, I very, very rarely give advice — I mean, I can count the number of times on one hand.  There’s an art to asking questions that make people think about the things in a productive manner… and some days, I’m pretty skilled with it.

6. The Make-Believe: Name something you wish for.

     I wish for what everyone wishes for.  Love, Sex, Money, Sex, Fun, Sex and a really cool prize at the bottom the Cracker Jacks.   And Sex.

Now it’s your turn.

You can take part in The Monday Melee, even make it a regular feature at your site by visiting The Monday Melee page and following the steps. Kick-start your brain on Mondays and meet other bloggers.

Character is often regarded as a means to judge the quality of a person and their moral values.  I thought about this as a read the blog on the Borat Syndrome when my name was mentioned.  I finally figured out why I love the film so much.  It is a perfect cross-section of the sheer ugliness that make up the moral stature of so many people in our lovely US and A.  I now invite you to watch as the people go and sing along as if it was a Disney Sing-A-Long special.

Surely, with this kind of debauchery and social degradation in the film media, it won’t be long until sex everywhere you look.  Children hate their parents, other races, any sort of work, and their bosses.  The politicians will be crooked. As they try to swindle, cheat and steal not only from the people but from each other as well.  (Not to mention remaining stagnant during their term, so they do not alienate their constituency so they are re-elected.)

While I do think a serious look at the general moral character of the public needs to be addressed, although I am not suggesting overall moral change.  (I want to keep my rights and my firearms.*)  I believe this must be addressed on much more a personal level.  You know, like prayer in school and spirituality when in the public domain, left up to the individual.  The whole point of the “film” is not to anger.  Merely to empower the mind, so our unpleasant qualities can be corrected.  All I am saying is simply if you don’t study history, you are bound to repeat it.

*Do not think advocating stronger gun restrictions will keep people who commit terrorist acts or other crimes from finding guns.

In honor of the last clip mentioned in Mark’s Tourette’s Week piece, here is a lovely little homage to the same movie “The Big Lebowski.”

     May 21st through May 25th is Tourette Syndrome Awareness Week in Australia.  Classified as a neurological disorder, Tourette Syndrome is a serious problem for many people.  Sufferers of Tourette’s often acquire serious — and some cases, dehabilitating —  facial “tics” which which can affect their speech, eyes and even breathing.  Others may make strange, or even obscene, utterances at random intervals which others may find rude, vulgar or in bad taste.
     Unfortunately, people who suffer from Tourette’s are often shown disdain by others for a condition which they clearly cannot help.  They are often stigmatized by their affliction, and may, in turn, develop additional mental issues such as anxiety, depression or antisocial behavior.

     If we were celebrating Tourette Syndrome Awareness Week in the United States, I would f#!*ing go to our local f#!*ing Health Department and get a f#!*ing stack of those f#!*ing flyers about f#!*ing Tourette’s Awareness Week and f#!*ing pass them out in order to f#!*ing educate some f#!*ing people.

     In f#!*ing honor of this f#!*ing prestigous event, I present, “The Big Lebowski: The F#!*ing Short Version” (language alert):

Tip: Les Jones for the information, which reminded me of the video, and the fact that I’m a smart ass