Kevin J. Wangler: What You've Created

Happy Birthday, Shesgot!!! Hope you have a great one!!

I was born and raised in California. I lived there the first almost-24 years of my life.

Living in Kentucky for the past almost-five-years, people have many times assumed that I must be some kind of earthquake expert (okay, we were trained well in school, etc.). People assume I must have lived through The Big One(tm) or at least a reasonable facsimile thereof. People are often surprised to hear that nope, I never so much as felt a tremor my entire life.

Until today.

Anyone have (highly unlikely) or know someone who has (still unlikely) Jamstix 2XL? If so, maybe I could 'borrow' it...?

Anyone doing something geekier than sitting on your computer on a Saturday afternoon, compiling a repair utility to attempt a fix on a 48GB gzip'd tarball?

Anyone? Anyone?

Never, ever, ever go to the Central Florida Regional Hospital in Sanford, FL.

Not even if you're dying. Perhaps especially not if you're dying, because you will certainly end up dead. Or worse, whatever that might be.

Go here and listen to the audio of the 911 call (toward the bottom under 'Related Links', labeled '911 Call: 'It's a nursery baby, I don't know who took it.'):

http://www.orlandosentinel.com/news/local/crime/orl-bk-babycall033108,0,11623.story

There's a reason Florida is the only state to have its own tag on Fark.

Watching 'In Treatment' makes me want to become a psychologist.

Was it like this for my parents? Is it still?

When I was growing up, primarily in the 80s, music from the 60s was oldies. So in 2008, music from the 80s should be oldies, right? I actually heard a teenager refer to 80s music as 'oldies'. They were passing by, so they didn't see my look of surprise.

I saw a car on the road a couple weeks back. I can't remember the make or model, but it was definitely from the 80s. It had an official 'historic vehicle' license plate.

I'm 28. I feel 19. Maybe younger. My friends are almost all married. Many have kids.

I have a job. A wife. A car. A mortgage. Responsibilities.

It's already too late for some things in life. Though, never too late for many other things.

I realise this sounds melancholy. But it's really not that way for me. I'm just feeling introspective. I'm so happy with life and wouldn't have it any other way.

Happy Easter, everyone!!!

I was thinking on my drive in to work this morning (after I was done with my morning prayers) about creativity and my song writing, and how I haven't really written any songs in awhile now. Bits and pieces here and there, but no full songs.

I do sing songs that I create 'on the fly' while I'm driving in the car, but by the time I get to a place where I can write down the words, I've almost always forgotten it, or forgotten the tune, or both. I can use my phone to record myself, but even then, by the time I get it set to record, it makes my mind go blank. It sucks. But I digress.

The thought that popped into my head regarding my song wring is this: Negativity breeds creativity. 99% of my songs are 'negative' in some way -- they're about sadness, they're about loss, they're about betrayal, they're about suffering, pain, death, suicide, etc. The 'positive' ones have been far and few between, and much more of a struggle to write. Hence, negativity breeds creativity.

But today, for the first time, when I thought of that phrase, the next thought I had was: bullshit.

Who says it has to be that way? I've made it that way, but it doesn't have to be that way. I can write songs that are positive. I can write songs that are uplifting, that focus on the good and not the bad.

Other people can. Hell, I was listening to Natalie Merchant this morning and thinking of her positive songs, and it's like... what, I'm not as good a songwriter as her? Bull! I can do this.

Really, I've always been drawn to that kind of song, though, the 'negative' ones. Not just since I got into grunge back in the 90s (where depressing is almost synonymous with grunge), but even when I was a kid and listening to 60s music. The Beach Boys are pretty darn positive and upbeat, but I'd focus on songs like 'God Only Knows' and 'Wouldn't It Be Nice' and 'Help Me, Rhonda'.

Well, I've lost my train of thought now.

This morning, I wanted to write down my dreams from last night, but I didn't, and then I forgot. Parts of them just came back to me, though.

In one dream, Tracey and I were at this humongous Catholic church. (I think it was called St. John's or something -- no church I've actually seen in real life, though.)  The priest was coming down these stairs in the back part of the church (which was like the administrative area of the church or something...?) and from the back (he was backing down) he looked like Fr. Joe Batcheldor. He started to turn around, and I realised it wasn't Fr. Joe, but Tracey didn't realise quite as quickly. She said 'Father Batch!' and the priest finished turning toward us, and she too realised it wasn't Fr. Batcheldor. She said something like 'sorry, I thought you were Father Joe' or whatever. Then we went and talked to him for awhile. I forget what was discussed but it seemed like it was important. Then Tracey and I left the church by going through the main part of the church itself. It was so huge, like a small stadium.

In another dream, I was watching a baseball game on TV between the Red Sox and the Yankees. It was a really close game, and very exciting. I called out to my dad, who was in the kitchen or somewhere nearby, and asked if he was watching. He said that he was not, but asked if it was a good game. I told him the score and what was happening, etc.

Then I was in the stands, really close to the field along the third base side. I was standing up at the rail so I could see better. The Yankees were up 4-2 in the 8th or 9th inning, but for some reason, we all knew that the Red Sox were going to win it in the end anyway, if only they could keep the score close. The Yankees were up, and the guy hit the ball to... somewhere... one of the players. Maybe even back to the pitcher. And he threw the ball away!! It was a terrible, Knoblauch-esque throw, horribly high and over everyone's heads. I, in the stands, somehow ended up with the ball. (Makes no sense, but it was a dream.)  A lot of people in the stands wanted me to throw it back onto the field (as fans sometimes do when the opposing team hits a homerun to them), but I was like, no way, I'm keeping it and I'm going to sell it on eBay. (ROFL)  So I kept it. The game continued. My dad was there, then, along the same rail as me, but a few people were standing between us. It was at Yankee Stadium, so the Yankees were the home team. I asked my dad who he thought would win, and he said 'The Red Sox are the better team, and they should win'. The people between us were Yankees fans, and they got mad, but didn't do anything. Then the game ended and the Yankees had kept the lead and won the game. My dad and I were leaving the stadium and were both asking, 'What happened to the last at-bats for the Red Sox?'  (Neither of us had seen them...?? I think that was one of those dream fast-forwards that happens and then my brain realised, hey, wtf happened there? hehe)

That's all I remember for now.