Getting sick on a holiday—The Boredom, Dispatch 7

If you're new to The Boredom or just forgot what's going on in my life, the previous dispatch is here, or start from the beginning with Dispatch 1.

Sunday, Day 31 of The Boredom, was a calm and relaxing day.  I mostly did research, did some prep work for the side business, and then I went to evening service at the First Baptist Church.  The pastor was preaching from Exodus.

Monday, Day 32, was hectic.  I hit the gym, showered, and then went out to do some more last minute Christmas shopping.  It’s freaking uncanny how every year I keep telling myself I’ll do the shopping earlier next December.  Then next December comes and I’m totally taken by surprise at how it’s December 22 and I still haven’t finished my Christmas shopping.

Luckily I’d made a dent in the holiday shopping the week before, so there were only three or four places where I spent ridiculous blocks of time in line.  Thankfully, I didn’t have an Auxiliary squadron meeting so I felt relieved to have that extra time to just rest.  My teenage nephews brought home a bug from school and had passed it around the family—jerks.  By Day 32 I was definitely feeling a cold coming on.

Day 33 was much of the same, though I had to carry tissue everywhere with me because my nose started doing the drip-drip run.  I went to bed early that night.

Day 34 was Christmas Eve.  The stress was on that day.  I must admit, no small part of that was due to family drama.  For starters, the father of my nephews—an absentee runaway coward who hasn’t seen his children in over three years—had recently called up and made promises (like he does every year) and then broke them (like he does every year).  Every time that S.O.B. does that, my niece—eleven years old—becomes an emotional wreck, her feelings of abandonment become renewed, and then she starts acting up.  Worst of all, being the only other male anywhere near her father’s age, she channels her hurt and rage and lashes out at me.

The other thing is that one of my siblings—who will not be dignified with name recognition—has been hanging around a lot.  When she’s not mistreating me, she finds ways to loiter and become a nuisance, which annoys my dad to the extreme, and the next person he sees is the lightning rod for his charged up, pent up frustration.  Guess who’s that lightning rod?

I hate to say it, but I’ve always been the soft target for my family.  It’s because I’m the quietest, the kindest, and the most patient.  Well, I suppose my mother’s really the kindest and most patient.  But I was always the quiet, well-behaved one.  (I misbehaved now and again; I just found ways that didn’t cause collateral damage the way Nameless Sibling’s shenanigans did.)  So people found it easier to lash out at me because I wouldn't do it in return.  Well, I got opportunities to surprise everyone during The Boredom.  I won’t go into detail, but I didn’t let anyone walk all over me the way they did in the past.

I love my family, but I often feel like they don’t understand me.  I’m not whining or feeling sorry for myself in any way.  I’m at peace with the things about me that my family will never understand.  But the more time I spend playing war with the Army, the more aggressive I become, and the more cold, calculating, and analytical I feel.  Whereas I used to despair at major problems, nowadays my line of thinking is “Okay, first I need to survive this crisis, regroup/rearm, and then kill the people responsible.” 

That’s an excellent way of warrior’s thinking, but it sure as hell don’t fly when it comes to jackasses on the 10 freeway, or with those in my own family who are practically begging for a broken jaw—but I can’t, because I can’t stand domestic violence.  It’s in these moments of frustration and isolation that I feel a burning desire to find strength and direction in my walk with Christ, and from libertarian thought.  The Golden Rule and non-aggression principle are truly hard to obey at times, but I must adhere to them if my honor, reputation, and conscience are to remain clean and clear.

Anyhow, Christmas Eve was upon us and the stress was there.  The entire month, Nameless Sibling did absolutely nothing to help get ready for the Christmas Eve family get-together, other than insist that she pick out the Christmas tree, subsequently leaving the work of hauling and decorating the tree to our mother (who became annoyed and cranky at being ditched, and guess who was the next person she saw).

I spent a lot of time in the kitchen that day, cooking early-to-mid afternoon so my dad would have the kitchen freed up for cooking his dishes in the late afternoon.  I also moved the furniture around to accommodate a banquet for the nuclear family and all the other relatives joining us.  Then, as my dad started cooking, I finally got around to wrapping all the gifts I’d bought for the family.  I managed to shower and put on slacks and a collar shirt (for my mother).  I don’t play that ugly Christmas sweater game crap.

Dinner was delicious and it was good to have our big family seated around a large table for this holiday.  After dinner we ate pie to our heart’s delight—it’s all about pecan pie and New York cheesecake—and then opened all the presents.  Frankly, I didn’t appreciate the unorthodoxy of not waiting til Christmas morning, but I wasn’t in charge.  It was still a great time.

Family’s important.  Because of that, I gave in to my older sister, Dee, when she insisted on including the Nameless Sibling in our evening plans.  I’m very close to Dee and visit her at her house at least two or three times a week.  She insisted that because it’s Christmas, we should include Nameless.  So I extended the invite.

She never made it to Dee’s house.  I thought she’d left with Dee, and Dee left without Nameless thinking she was coming with me.  We ended up putting two and two together that Nameless was off getting high somewhere, which is why she disappeared for a stretch of time.

After Dee’s house, I came home and racked out.  I was feeling that cold and desperately needed sleep.

I awoke at 7:30 on Christmas morning, Day 35, glad about the reason for the season and that we’d gotten presents out of the way the night before.  During the daytime I read, played Lord of the Rings Online, and hung out with Dee.  As the evening drew near I finalized the evening’s plans.

Havok was to come with me to see the advance screening of American Sniper in the dome at the Arclight Theater in Hollywood—mind you, not only did I LOVE nighttime trips to Hollywood with my friends, but this was also three weeks before the movie’s general release.  Then evening came and the exhaustion, coupled with the complete loss of adrenaline after the Christmas gift exchange was over, turned into a nasty cold that knocked me on my ass.

It was 9 PM and I felt like death warmed over but cooling off fast.  I still had an hour-long drive to Hollywood and a possible outdoor wait in line, on a cold winter night, for a two-hour movie that starts at midnight.  American Sniper wasn’t happening.  Havok was very understanding—turns out the rat bastard already saw the movie in a secret advanced screening for the Navy.

I spent all of Days 36 and 37 resting and getting my body back from the abyss (but I was royally pissed the entire time about missing the advance screening I paid for).  It wasn’t until several days later that I realized Day 36 was December 26—my two-year anniversary since I quit drinking.  Cutting booze out of my life and reforming myself were monumental tasks, but I’m very proud of those accomplishments.  I’m even more proud that getting my life together has made me feel worthy of the people I care about.

All in all, the holiday wasn’t bad.  With Christmas over, I was looking ahead to the new year.

* * *

Shoppers photo courtesy of the New York Post.  Shooting silhouette courtesy of Cricuit Crafts on Pinterest.  Santa in the sky image courtesy of aomzinsuay.blogspot.com. Both images used according to Fair Use.

Life and Death—The Boredom, Dispatch 5

Thank you for reading about my continuing exploits on my quest.  I’m trying to fill my holiday season with actions that are productive and/or meaningful to me before I go back to working at the job I love.

Catch up with Dispatch 1 , Dispatch 2 , Dispatch 3 , and Dispatch 4.

Sunday, Day 17 of The Boredom, was spent mostly with family. Still, I dedicated more than a few hours to peaceful solitude in front of the glow of my computer screen.

Not gonna lie, playing The Lord of the Rings Online has become one of my favorite pastimes.  It’s an epic role-playing video game and the designers created worlds that allow me to explore and learn more about the regions and peoples written about in one of the greatest literary masterpieces of Western civilization.

Day 18, Monday, was mostly spent working on manuscripts and doing research, both for building my business and for a future writing project.  The academic research has been for the purpose of writing a multi-volume history of the Vietnam War, entirely from a libertarian perspective.  So far I have seventy pages of notes typed out on the computer, single-spaced and 12-inch font.

In the evening I attended my Civil Air Patrol (U.S. Air Force Auxiliary) squadron meeting.  Our guest that evening was an Air Force colonel who happened to be the staff director for the Fourth Air Force at March Air Reserve Base.  He spoke with us in the headquarters board room—really a section of the squadron’s double-wide, walled off by chalk boards on one side and bookshelves on the other—and I managed to get an interview before the end of the meeting.

I take pride in having volunteered in the Air Force Auxiliary.  I originally joined to have a joint activity with my nephew, whose old man was long gone and badly needed a structured program at the time, but I stayed because I truly enjoy the program.  Three years later, I’m a First Lieutenant and one of the most active public affairs officers in California Wing.  I take pride in my own accomplishments and in serving with this incredible, humanitarian manifestation of the “organized militia.”  Plus, it’s pretty badass that CAP sank two German submarines prowling our coast during World War II, with dozens more air-struck and damaged into retreat.

Day 19, Tuesday, I had my nose in books, smoked too many cigarettes, and then forced myself to go to the gym.  It seems like I’m only ever motivated to work out when I’m on base...  Oh well, at least I went.  The highlight of my day was finally getting in the mail my new green vinyl record of the Misfits' Project 1950 Expanded album—the entire thing is punk rock covers of oldies songs.  Listening to that was too cool!

Wednesday was spent doing more research, further work restoring manuscripts, and I managed to step into the sunlight to get some lunch.  In the evening I went to my older sister’s house to honor our tradition of, whenever I’m back from the desert, watching Modern Family as a family—myself, my sister, and my niece and nephews.

I don’t even remember Thursday.  I honestly don’t remember caring.  It was probably a pleasant day.

Friday, Day 22, I punished myself at the gym.  I did a full forty minutes of cardio, then migrated upstairs to do the bar dip for four sets of twenty-five suspended reverse sit-ups.  I followed that up with three sets on the horizontal chest-press machine—one set for my left arm, and one reduced-weight set for my stump.  I do my best to work out the right side of my torso despite my limb deficiency.  I’ve been lucky enough to reverse some of the muscular atrophy on that side.

Following the chest-press I grabbed a forty-pound weight bar and did four sets of squats, fifteen reps each.  While it’s been good for my thighs and tush, it’s been remarkably good for my right shoulder muscle (which is noticeably smaller than my left).  I finished everything off with another ten minutes of cardio—this time on an exercise bike—and in my time at the gym I downed another chapter of War Is a Force That Gives Us Meaning.

Saturday, Day 23 of The Boredom, was as incredible day of days.  I got up at 0530 (not my finest of hours), showered, and put on my CAP uniform.  After picking up a Powerade, Red Bull, and a stick of beef jerky—the popular food of the modern warrior—I made my way to squadron headquarters by 0645.  The squadron departed for Riverside National Cemetery.

Our mission was to participate in Wreaths Across America, an event to place holiday wreaths at the graves of departed armed forces veterans, thus keeping their memory alive.  The event was very touching and moving.  The only part that weighed on me was talking with some of the Gold Star wives and mothers.  Whenever military family members see me, they see the crew cut and the missing arm and mistakenly do the math to think I’m a combat veteran.  I tell them I’ve never been in combat, but they don’t care—they already respect the uniform and they have things they need to get off their chest.  I have an obligation to these women who lost so much for their country, to listen to what they need to tell me.

And so seventy-year-old women wept in front of me for the husbands they lost in Vietnam, and forty-year-old women wept for the sons they lost in Iraq and Afghanistan.  What particularly disturbed me was the Vietnam War widows—forty or fifty years later and the grief still hits them hard.  It always stays with you and doesn’t go away, just like Abe’s death in Al Anbar province hasn’t gone away from me after ten years.

I got off duty just in time to drive across Riverside, where I made it just in time for my friend’s wedding.  One of the senior NCOs in my unit—we’ll call him “Job,” after the Biblical figure—was getting re-married.  Since he’s been through emotional hell and back in his life—long story, you don’t want to know—and he’s become a mentor to me over time, I wasn’t going to miss his wedding for the world.

Three amazing things happened that afternoon.  First, I saw my friend truly happy for the first time in years.  Second, an important bond was strengthened.  I noticed several tables had reserved seating; one was reserved for the bride’s family—a thriving, bustling table—and another reserved for the groom’s family.  The latter was empty; the entire groom’s family has since passed away.  I asked “Job” if I could eat my meal at his family’s reserved table and he said, “Yes, I consider you family.”  And I made sure he saw me eat at that table.  The third wonderful thing that happened was that I met an intriguing older woman—one who’s kind, classy, sexy and smart.  We shot the breeze for hours and had a ball.  Phone numbers were exchanged.

After I got home from Riverside I had a nice hour-long visit with my older sister.  She and I are very close and I consider it a blessing that one of my siblings is also my close and true friend.  Following the visit that primarily consisted of laughing and talking smack about psychotic relatives, I picked up my good friend Midshipman.  He and I had gone up to Big Bear and Holcomb Valley together two weeks ago.

Midshipman (right) and I (left)

We sped over to the American Legion hall in Azusa, California, to join my friend “Shark” for his birthday celebration—SharkFest 2014.  Let me just tell you, SharkFest was AWESOME!  It was seriously the best party I’ve been to in months, if not longer.  A cemetery and a wedding in one day are a bit much, especially after talking with the war widows.

Shark is a Navy veteran who saw combat in Afghanistan.  Nowadays he’s a student at Mt. San Antonio College.  I met him through the San Bernardino County Libertarian Party, he was always supportive of my writing, and we’ve been friends ever since.  We were celebrating his 31^st birthday that night.

It was such a relief to shoot the breeze and swap stories with veterans and fellow current reservists my age.  The special bond between veterans that you read all the clichés about, then mentally discard, is real.  I hadn’t realized the extent before, but I did that night.  I realized that I’m not a 19-year-old FNG—f***ing new guy (a liability)—in a shiny new uniform, amazed by everything going on around him.  I’ve been a weekend warrior for seven years, added to three years of extra duty with the Auxiliary, and another two years as a contractor embedded with the regular Army.  I’ve done my share, endured both the outdoor elements and the bureaucracy, and it was great to be around other guys and girls who actually knew what the hell I was talking about!

Gotta love Vietnam vets!

Better yet, the party wasn’t great just because I met solid people and partied hard with my buddies.  Other than making a host of new friends, I danced with some of the prettiest girls in the San Gabriel Valley, civilian and veterans!  One girl, currently a student, was the prettiest woman Marine I’ve ever seen—seriously, I’m a sucker for dark brown hair and green eyes.  Better yet, she’d been “downrange” (military slang for the wars), which made her a badass.

The entire night was therapeutic, and the entire day was an incredible ending to my week.

* * *

CAP historical painting courtesy of CAPhistory dot org.  All other images are by the author.

Break ups, Evil relatives, and Partying in Big Bear (The Boredom—Week 1, Part 2)

Thank you for reading about my continuing exploits on my quest.  I’m trying to fill my holiday season with actions that are productive and/or meaningful to me before I go back to working at the job I love.

Catch up with Dispatch 1 and Dispatch 2.

Wednesday—Day Five of The Boredom—started out with the major downer of making the phone call to break it off with a brief fling who blatantly got my hopes up and led me on.  She never responded with even a single written word, but it still had to be done.  I kept my side of the street clean and I wash my hands of it.

The next thing I did was make a donation to my favorite ministry and charity, the Voice of the Martyrs.  I specified for the donation be directed to the Iraqi Christians Relief Fund.  VOTM needs all the help they can get, with the devastation of ISIS’ genocidal war of expansion.

By late morning I heard back from my friend who’d made an ass out of us both in Lake Arrowhead.  He had the money he owed me from the night before but arrogantly played down his behavior.  I was not impressed, and am still disappointed to see this type of behavior in someone I so highly regard.

The Rail Side Cafe

I pushed all the drama out of my head with a relaxing lunch at the Rail Side Café in San Dimas, CA.  I’m in love with this new mom-and-pop eatery.  They balance the minimalist motif of a hip coffee shop with the nostalgia for the heyday of trains—ultimately the reason my hometown grew from a 19^th century work camp.  I ate one of the best damn Paninis I’ve ever had while I read a few chapters from Empire State.

Overall, the day was remarkably productive.  I wrote a lot that day, got some important things done at home, and also significantly grew my social media following.  This is all good prep work to benefit me when I launch the American Liberty Library, my independent publishing house.

Day Six was Thanksgiving Day.  In the late morning I drove to my sister’s house on the other side of town and helped her prepare two turkeys and some pecan pies for Thanksgiving dessert.  I’d already busted a mission with my nephew to the crowded supermarket and helped my sister make pumpkin pies the night before.

Thanksgiving dinner went well overall.  It was remarkably pleasing to have the big family together for the holiday feast.  This included my parents, my oldest sister and her three kids, my aunt (mother’s sister), and another family member who prattled with endless tacky sarcasm the whole evening, as if she knew what she was talking about or anyone remotely took her seriously.  (You really don’t get to choose your relatives).

The dinner was mouth-watering.  We had two full-sized turkeys, breaded green beans, stuffing, mashed potatoes, steamed carrots, and a number of other entrees. For dessert we had our choice of multiple pecan pies, pumpkin pies, and cheese cakes.  I washed everything down with pint-mugs of non-alcoholic beer (I’ll explain in Week Six why I don’t drink).  Days later, I still feel bloated from the feast suitable for Roman senators.  Whatever, it was worth it!

On Day 7, Friday, I spent a good chunk of time updating the look and feel of my blog.  Since it’s grown in quality, content, and audience, I wanted a look to it that’s more professional yet edgy than the cookie-cutter dark gray theme I previously used.  I also spent a few hours working on restoring manuscripts for some excellent books on liberty, especially freedom of speech and freedom of religion.

Midshipman and his Russian rifle

Friday night I was actively trying to avoid the Black Friday rush, so I swung by my friend’s house—we’ll call him Midshipman.  We talked of business and pleasure while he calibrated his hunting gun—a 1938 Mosin Nagant, still bearing Red Army insignia—and we had way too much tobacco.

Day 8, Saturday, was a remarkably good day.  I headed over to the San Dimas Barber Shop located in downtown—the name of the city escapes me.  I’ve been getting my hair cut here for nearly a year and it’s a place I truly enjoy being at.  For me, the haircut is the main objective, but it’s only part of the whole experience.

I prefer to be a patron of a barber who’s personable and can carry a good conversation, not just small talk.  I also look for a good ambiance.  The barbers need to show both skill and a willingness to work with a blade, not just relying on clippers.  Finally, the barber shop needs some kind of gimmick that can’t be found in most other places.

Brent being a smart ass while I'm trying to take a photo.

The San Dimas shop is decked out on the inside with a vintage late 1950s-early 60s theme; red leather seats, black and white checkerboard tile floor, and the walls are adorned with 45 rpm records, pictures of time period celebrities, diners, movie posters, artifacts, etc.  Those who know me vouch for my love of everything rockabilly.  The barbers there—Steve, Jerry, and Brent—are all great guys, very personable, and easy to get to know.  I always have a blast trading friendly insults and updates on life with them.  Better yet, they’re all talented barbers.

However, what that really sells it for me is my main guy, Brent, offers an old-fashioned straight razor shave.  This includes treatment with hot and cold towels, warm face lathers, the super-close shave itself, astringent, and aftershave.  In Brent’s own words, “This is how gentlemen pamper themselves.”

Add to that the doo wop and surf rock always playing in the shop, and in the back corner is a vintage county fair-style popcorn machine.  That means every time I go to the barber shop, I get to kick back, hear the music I love most, and munch on tasty butter popcorn while I wait to get my hair cut.

After the barbershop, I headed home to throw some cold weather clothes and key supplies in my small duffel bag.  Midshipman and I were going camping for a night!  He picked me up in his mammoth white 1982 Ford F250 and we rumbled up to Big Bear Lake at 55 mph.

Upon reaching the lake on Route 330, we hooked a northbound left.  Our objective was Holcomb Valley, the next valley over from Big Bear.  We drove (and bounced) up a rough dirt road for 6 miles until we found our campsite.  The sunset was exquisite, but we needed to eat.

We had pizza at a decent sports bar and pizzeria and shared our big table with another party.  To our good fortune, we were sitting with a pair of bail bondsmen, and we spent dinner discussing the juicy details of various white collar criminals, gang members, and murderers running around Hemet on high bails.

After dinner we parked the truck and waded through the traffic in Big Bear Village—we completely forgot it was Saturday night in a resort town on a holiday weekend.  That just made things even better!

The HiFi Academy

Midshipman and I ended up at Whiskey Dave’s, a classy fusion between sports bar/grill and dive bar, with pool tables, a dance floor, and a dining area.  We were lucky to see a live performance by the Los Angeles-based HiFi Acedemy.  These guys played some of the best classic rock covers I’ve ever heard.  I’m talking about AC/DC, Guns ‘N Roses, Ozzy Osbourne, Def Leppard, you name it!  The HiFi Academy played their asses off, and I rocked out to their sets for hours.

Not only were all the band members really cool and down-to-earth folks, the keyboardist Melissa was really cute and definitely stole my heart during the show.  What man with a brain wouldn’t appreciate a pretty woman who can rock like Angus Young in his heyday?

In between sets, I met and talked with at least 20 cool and interesting people with unique stories and backgrounds.  There were also a lot of marines there; I learned that Pendleton marines are the dickheads and 29 Palms marines are cool as hell.  (I think part of it is their sunburned co-existence in the Mojave Desert with the Army.)  I danced with a lot of beautiful ladies, shot pool with some genuinely kind and fun-loving guys and girls—one of them was a Catalonian from Barcelona, and we discussed the rumors of Barcelona’s independence from Madrid.

Hanging out with new friends

At 1 in the morning, Midshipman and I walked back through the beautifully lit, empty streets of the village.  Save for the occasional taxi, we were the only souls walking the streets.  We got to the truck and drove back to Holcomb Valley.  Before putting down our bedding and wrapping up in thermals, we took a moment to stop and stare in wonder at the night sky.

There were thousands of stars above the clearing in the pine trees.  I hadn’t seen Orion the Hunter, or the stars glittering inside his outline, shine so brightly in at least ten years.  The whole panoramic picture in my eyes reminded me of these verses:

The heavens declare the glory of God;

    the skies proclaim the work of his hands.

Day after day they pour forth speech;

    night after night they reveal knowledge.

They have no speech, they use no words;

    no sound is heard from them.

Yet their voice[b] goes out into all the earth,

    their words to the ends of the world.

Psalm 19:1-4

As a thick cover of clouds quickly rolled in over us, we bedded down in the F250 and went to sleep.

* * *

Rail Side Cafe photo courtesy of the Rail Side Cafe.  All other photos are my own. Copyright lawyers buzz off.

Books, Heartbreak, and Alcohol Drama (The Boredom—Week 1, Part 1)

Thank you for reading more about my quest to do meaningful, productive things while I kill time before returning to my amazing job that I love.

Day 3.  Sunday had a productive start.  Not only did I open both eyes, but I even managed to crawl out of bed and slide into some clothes that were probably clean.  I decided to press my winning streak by writing some more—the more I write, the more I can publish and share with the world.

I sat down for a good minute and I wrote a libertarian review of The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 1.  The review primarily focuses on guerrilla warfare in Mockingjay and ties that imagery into Murray Rothbard’s writings on guerrilla warfare in the American Revolutionary War (Rothbard, Conceived in Liberty, Vol. IV, ch. 3).  This one has been one of my more highly trafficked articles of late, so I’m pleased at the exposure it’s getting.

I burst out of my creative trance, hightailed it through the shower and picked up both of my teenage nephews at noon.  I like to spend as much time with those boys as possible, especially since their old man took off years ago.  It’s good bonding time, plus I get to talk to them about things that matter.

My nephews and I enjoy seeing movies together.  I took them both to see the awful Red Dawn remake, and the younger one accompanied me to Frankenstein and The Bride of Frankenstein on the big screen.  This time, I took the boys to see Fury before it’s out of theaters.  They really wanted to see it, I certainly didn’t mind seeing it again, and I figured this is a good way to round of the last two WW2 movies I’d showed them: Schindler’s List and Saving Private Ryan.

I don’t know what it is about this generation of kids, but they’re way too fond of Holocaust jokes and Call of Duty has made them all think they know what war is.  Basically these intense, gut-wrenching, realistic movies have given them an idea of what violence and suffering really look like.  They’re great teaching aides and Fury was a great finishing touch, with its depiction of Allied misconduct in the war while it still praises the overall heroism and courage of the Greatest Generation.

The boys enjoyed the movie and got something out of it.

Sunday night I got together with some good friends for a backyard bonfire.  Not gonna lie, I take great pride in the fact that I can build a fire in this age of technology.  I figure if some natural disaster happens and the power grid goes out, a lot of people are going to suffer needlessly.  Other than that, knowing how to build a fire is super nice for relaxing outside in cold weather.

Day 4, Monday, was largely uneventful.  I wrote a bit before working on manuscripts for near-future publications.

In 2015 I plan on launching an independent publishing house.  This won’t be like Political Spectrum Publishing.  I’m very proud of PSP and the amazing book it produced—VOICES OF REVOLUTION: Americans Speak Out for Ron Paul.  However, after the Voices book was released and it became increasingly clear Ron Paul wouldn’t be the Republican nominee, the whole train lost steam.  Also, real-life commitments got in the way (such as other campaigns I worked, my job, a toxic relationship, and of course, finishing college).

PSP was a great learning experience, but that was the worst time in my life to have tried—or half-assed—to start a business.

Realistically, a startup business is more like a newborn baby than a Giga Pet—if you don’t know what those are, thanks for making me feel old!

Therefore, my new publishing house is going to be something I can show my own father, look him in the eye, and be proud.  Hey, if I’m not proud to present something to the man I respect most, what business do I have presenting it to the world and even asking for their money?

I’m tentatively calling it The American Liberty Library (ALL). The name is catchy yet meaningful—the focus will be both fiction and nonfiction books that simultaneously entertain or engage and promote libertarian ideas.  Other than forming my business model and plan, I’ve actually been preparing product, hence my working on manuscripts.

Of course the American Liberty Library will be my preferred method of publishing my own books—almost done with #3!—but that won’t be all.  It’ll include some essential classics like Tocqueville’s Democracy in America and the writings of Bastiat, but I’ve also been doing hours of searching for dormant manuscripts.  There are many remarkable books on liberty and in sync with libertarian ideas, but they’ve been lost to time and are in the public domain.  I think it’s time some of these forgotten classics made a comeback!

Tuesday, Day 5 of the Boredom, was an interesting day to say the least!

Ever since we saw each other Friday night, the special gal from Rancho was been acting very strange toward me.  Tuesday morning I found out what I needed to know.  I wish she had just been honest with me instead of getting my hopes up, but it’s better to know anyhow.  Now I don’t have to wonder.

I went to the gym and had a great workout to get my mind off of things.  Then I swung by In ‘N’ Out for a protein-style Double-Double and animal-style fries, washing it all down with a cold Dr. Pepper.  It was a feast fit for kings!

I finished digitally restoring the manuscript for Harold Frederic’s 1893 novel, The Copperhead.  Some of you may be familiar with the novel’s movie adaptation, Copperhead, by Gettysburg director Ronald F. Maxwell.  It’s a well-written novel and has a totally different ending than its film adaptation, so this is good!

That evening, I picked up some friends for what was to be an amazing night out.  For months, whenever I’m in town, I’ve headed up to the Saddleback Inn at Lake Arrowhead, California for karaoke and fun times.  The people there are always really cool and there’s never drama, only people trying to enjoy themselves.

Unfortunately, it was dead that night.  I’ve never seen this normally-cracking place so entirely dismally dead.  Therefore, one of my friends decided it wasn’t going to be a good night.  He got ridiculously drunk—we hadn’t even been there an hour before he was smashed—and he ended up getting belligerent and talking a ton of trash to the bartenders.

Needless to say, the owner of the establishment personally asked us to get him the hell out of there.  Basically, I’d driven everyone there for a solid one-hour each way drive, for us to be home by 11.  That night was a loss.  I was really disappointed that one of my closest friends could make such an ass of himself in public and embarrass me in front of people I respect at one of my favorite hangout spots.  They were all cool about it, they knew he was drunk, etc., but the company you keep is the name you carry, and they’re going to remember that I brought that guy.

Day 6, Wednesday, I woke up a little later than planned.  I emailed a client regarding a side job, and then did what was unpleasant, but necessary.  I called the girl from Rancho to give the breakup talk.  She didn’t answer; I didn’t expect her to.  So I left a long voice mail balancing a list of grievances with respect and the promise that I would neither cause her any drama nor stand in the way of her happiness.

So here I am.  Now, I’m off to go do something useful.  Check back in a few days for another update on The Boredom.

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Mockingjay Part 1 art is the property of Lionsgate films and other respective owners and stakeholders, used here according to Fair Use laws for the promotion of the movie. Copperhead movie poster is the property of Swordspoint Productions, Brainstorm Media, and other respective owners and stakeholders, used here according to Fair Use laws.