The Mediocre.

99.9 percent of Americans grew up thinking they were special. Schools K-12 told students that anything was possible and that all was within their reach. In post education, still riding that high, many kids enrolled in courses that would never attain them financial stability. Psychology, Anthropology, History, Geology, and Art. When they left there was no demand.

Enter the age of mediocrity. And believe it or not, the powers that be are just fine keeping these kids there. In the state of flux. For the mediocre are the pawns that keep the economy rolling. The debt culture is the perfect habitat for the species to dwell.

I am mediocre. I work nine to five, pay my bills on time, and have nothing to show for it. I have ideas, hopes, and dreams because I am a human being. I know risk comes with change, but the logic of risking it all fails. Because what is left is all I got. And if I lost all I got, I am no more. Or am I?

The Excavation.

I got a call last week from friend and colleague Dr. Sanders Patterson. He informed me of a job opportunity in Pleasantville Iowa just outside of Des Moines. It was a Chippewa Indian excavation, but the tone of his voice lead me to believe it to be more than that. Otherwise he would not have called on my services for such a basic job. I asked how much it paid, and he said one hundred thousand, which was more than I got paid in 2 years. With my suspicions rising, I asked who was paying, and the answer being 'did I want the job?' Yes, I wanted the job. My final question was, "Sanders, what does a native-american dig want with a Byzantine specialist?"

"Dr. Murkaugh, you'll find out when you get here!" was the reply.

And here it is one week since the phone call. I am at the Des Moines International airport awaiting a ride. I approach a man with a sign that had my name on it.

"I am Dennis Murkaugh."

I was driven through the city heading southeast. The tree shadows were creating a strobe effect with the sun, that left me feeling dazed. In the blue glow of twilight we turned down a dirt road. And for half an hour I saw nothing but the dirt road illuminated by the car's headlights. Then the scene appeared. Behind a barbed wired fence whose entrance was guarded by what looked like some government security agency, they let us pass through without stopping. Inside the "complex" was less elaborate than what the fence told. Five tents and a fifty yard wide hole. The sound of generators were deafening, and the whole place was lit by several worklights whereupon thousands of moths and other insects fervently bounced off back and forth in the warm summer night.

(to be continued, maybe, yawn.)

Neglected.

This blog has been neglected. It has lacked inspiration. It lacks interest. It is in a sad state. And it hasn't been healthy. The blog has been smoking and drinking recklessly. One pull up and 8 push ups was all it could muster. A climb up three flight of stairs almost killed it. It looks into the future and could only see six months. Pondering questions relentlessly, and then pondering the same ones afterwards without even remembering. Indecisive, unable to communicate, and lack of proper hygiene.

The Masterpiece

An old man is meticulously writing his masterpiece.

"...and finally, the end." the man writes by pen into the
manuscript. He gently closes the book and holds it up to admire the bindings. Five years was how long it took to write this one. He looks over at his manservant.

"Walter, I am done with my masterpiece.", the old man declares.

"And a fine one it is sir. I'd say it is your best one yet. Do you want me to put it with the others?" says the man servant.

"But of course Walter. But of course."

Walter carefully picks up the manuscript and walks away. The old man pulls out a new pen to start another. Walter walks through several rooms and down a flight of stairs down into the furnace room. He open's the furnace and tosses the book inside.

I am a smoker.

I am a quitter, I have quit many things in my life. I've quit jobs, schools, exercise, saving money, amongst other things, the list goes on. You get the picture. But the one thing that I absolutely can not quit, is the love of my life, smoking. In many ways it has been a boon to my existence, massaging my shoulders during times of stress while at the same time stabbing my air sacs with microscopic particles to remind me massages are not for free. I am losing focus here...

HELL! I just quite Myspace and am having no withdrawal symptoms. I've quitted booze for periods of time. I know it is an addiction, but I quit other addictions that are not to be mentioned here. So if you are a kid and have managed to stumble upon this blog, and are contemplating lighting up a sweet sweet cigarette, I guess the name means miniature cigar or feminine cigar or something. cigar-ette....They call them fags in the UK. Did you know that?

I am rambling. Kids, don't do it. Your life depends on it.

America and the Suburbs

I am silent. I sit and listen and smile politely and quietly judge you. You my friend have made some mistakes in your life, as I hear often. I have not. If there was a picture of perfection in the dictionary, it would be a picture of me. I tell you nothing of myself and there is a reason. I've been down this road before, I will not give you the fuel to run your empathy machine. There is nothing in common between you and I. Nor can you judge me. But even if you did know anything about me, you would find nothing. Really. There is not much that is intriguing hidden away under this charismatic stone cold fascade. You say to live life now. We will see about that when I am fifty and have a secure 401k savings plan, a nice house, and car. You say that you like to smoke and drink. We would see who is laughing when someone comes down with terminal lung cancer or cirrosis of the liver. I will give you a hint, that person would not be me. I would be the one dancing and laughing at your grave. Oh yeah, I will be dancing with my kids who shall carry my legacy on forever. They will still talk about me generations to come. And we would all be dancing on 5000 dollar Segways. Because we would be rich. We shall see who was right. I am. Life is long, play soft.