Blog. What the heck? Big Lumpy Old Gals? Burning Lots Of Gasoline? Bums Living Off Garbage? I don't know, but whatever it be, here it is. I use this section to jot down recent events, ideas, philosophies, questions, and anything else that sneaks its way in. Don't look for grammatical perfection or pristine writing here, that's not the point. These are the lightbulb ideas, emotions worth writing down, the "unsolved mysteries" of an ongoing life. The hope is to accumulate a decent list of entries, everything from meaningful theories to aimless babble, and keep a history that I can one day go back to and make sense of or even use in the future. A glimpse at the nuts and bolts that keep this mind ticking, these are some thoughts I've met at one point or another.

(7-23-04 lately)

I've been working on a new web interface/layout, which is taking up a lot of time. The new site will hopefully be done and live by the end of the summer... no promises though. It looks sweet so far, everything up to this point has been done in Photoshop. Lots of ideas but not enough time!!!!
In the meantime, here's a cool pirate story to hold you over. I heard the other day that some bands of pirates would wear a patch over one eye so when they crossed over to an enemy ship, they could fight hand to hand on deck, then quickly swap the patch from one eye to the other and continue fighting below the deck where it would be dark and hard to see. The eye that had been covered would already be adjusted for the lack of light... cool! I mean, Arrrrr!

(7-13-04 I'm right, you're wrong)

Two wrongs don’t make a right but if I’m wrong then that would be three wrongs and mean that I’m basing my conclusion on the wrong information, so maybe I am right because I didn’t have the facts straight from the beginning anyway. If I’m right then that would mean there’s actually two rights, not one, and therefore I’d be right in saying two wrongs don’t make a right… they really make two rights.

(7-12-04 Back from a weekend trip to New York... where all the superheroes live!)

New York, what a crazy place. Being my first time in the Big Apple, I really didn’t know what to expect. We made it to our Sheraton Manhattan hotel at around 9:30, Saturday morning. I got out of the car and just gazed at the towering skyscrapers, not sure what they or the people inside thought of this little hick in a white t-shirt and jeans (yeah, that’s me). Watching the variety of people dodge taxis, treading sidewalks poka dotted with baked gum, everyone seemed like they were on a mission and I was about to join the parade.

The next thirteen hours were non-stop walking with the occasional butt rest on the subways from hell… what is it with those things? I suppose with their constant use, it would be hard for work crews to really get in and maintain the equipment or upgrade, but someone needs to scrape the rats off the track before those rigs rattle themselves apart.

We hit all, or most of, the main touristy attractions you can think of but it was different than other vacation spots. The monuments and buildings we saw were intriguing with their towering sizes and historical backgrounds, but there was more to it. Stuff like the World Trade Center site just about brings a tear to your eye and it was one of the greatest feelings ever to see the many couples and visitors who were also there to pay tribute and take notice of an event Americans should NEVER FORGET. The vast empty space in the middle of surrounding buildings that survived really takes your breath away. It was a tourism thing for sure, but in a much more real way. I saw men in boots, women in jeans, bandanas, and three Laconia Bike Week shirts among the crowd… definitely no dorks in plaid shorts, socks up to their knees, with a camera around their neck like you see at Disney World.

After being in NY for just one day, I was already getting used to it. The streets were easy to figure out, you learn to walk when the green light says so or the nearest taxi will have a new hood ornament, and if you mind your own business, no one will bother you. There’s also an overwhelming amount of good-looking ladies walking around and maybe it’s something in the food or the money but 90 percent of them were very “top-heavy,” to say the least. Not my style though, it was the fake beauty, the Barbie doll replicas that w0ould have no problem telling a lie. The dress code is certainly different from what I’m accustomed to as well: If you’re a girl, you wear a tube top with a skirt covering less than Eve’s leaf. If you’re a guy, either khaki shorts or pants with sandals and a polo shirt, collar up. We spent most of our time in or not far from Times Square though, and I bet the scene would’ve been much different in the Bronx or some other area.

Carnegie Deli is worth mentioning all on it’s own because of their massive sandwiches that I literally had to split in half just to get a bite. Other places visited were the Statue of Liberty, Empire State Building, Rockefeller Center, Grand Central Terminal, Central park, and more. Two days later, little sleep, and some very sore hip flexors, here are several pictures from the adventure.

Click to enlarge pictures:

(7-08-04 Nobody's perfect)

Be your own critic: Someone can try forever to teach you something but in the end, it’s you who has to understand the idea and believe it for yourself. No one can force you to learn, you have to become your own teacher and student at the same time. This works out for both good and bad things. If you mess up or make a mistake, no one can be harder on you than yourself and you’re more apt to change your ways or believe there is a need for change if you’re the one who sees something wrong. With the good, if you know you did something right and other people still don’t agree or can’t see what you tried to do, it won’t matter because you still know for yourself that you did, or tried to do, the right thing.
Bottomline: It doesn’t matter what everyone else says, listen to yourself.


Just got my new Logitech Elite keyboard in the mail today… this thing scores like a 12 on the Generous Scale (when you rate someone from 1 to 14 so when you say they’re a 7, they think that’s not half bad… evil). Looks pretty rad and flat as a rug, can’t wait to try it. I think this finally outdoes the AM radio in my truck as far as technology. Keyboard shipped in 3 days from, sweet deal.

(6-30-04 The things you still hear in a cubicle...)

“They were playing this song the other day, it was about a rainbow in the dark but they were singing it all heavy-metal like… how can you do that? Singing hard--about a rainbow?” –Judi
Ouch. Poor Dio.

(6-29-04 Watchin' a movie)

"I would never ask you to trust me, it's the cry of a guilty man." -Way of the Gun


Skittles and Hot Tomales: possibly the greatest combo since Mad Max and the Interceptor.

(6-13-04 Thinking on my ride back to VT where I'm interning for the summer)

- Was thinking of a way to prevent tires from wearing so much (the friction on hot tar eats ‘em right up) so I thought what if a tire company could make some tires that secreted just enough water to keep the heat down but not enough to make it slippery. A better idea, however, would probably be to make pavement that you can control the temperature of, so then in the winter you could obviously melt the ice, but in the summer, cool the road down to prevent such hot friction between the tires and black tar.
- Knowledge- If there is a small, secluded tribe of a certain number of people that have never interacted with other cultures and there is one man in the group who is 100 years old (the oldest in the village), he’s probably going to be regarded as the wisest, right? His added years should have provided him with more knowledge and wisdom than the other people. But then if colonists or some other group of people stumble upon this tribe and the new people have an even smarter elder, does the 100 year old man suddenly become less wise? How do we actually measure knowledge, because it seems like it’s only based on how many other people you are smarter than. If miraculously, someone lives to be 300 years old, by our standards, they would most likely be viewed as the wisest man/woman of all so would that make everyone else dumber somehow?
- Sounds for electric/H2O cars!!! In the future, we’re going to be driving quiet little electric or H2O powered cars but not everyone’s going to be satisfied with hearing their tires roll and nothing else… someone needs to make an exterior sound system, or something, that sends out a desires sound, like the rumble of a big v-8 engine, and is hooked up to the gas pedal so the sound fluctuates like you’re actually revving it up. You could do all kinds of sounds: horsepower, racecar, the Millennium Falcon…

(5-03-04 random)

Someone in Vermont needs to buy a PT Cruiser and call it the VT Cruiser.

(4-28-04 Just found my journal we had to keep first semester for Interior Dialogues class)

- If our minds can only think, or process, one thing at a time (i.e. it’s impossible to think or figure out two separate tasks at the exact same time. Different topics or subjects may be thought of in a continuous manner but there aren’t two or more thoughts at the same time) then to perform multi-functioned tasks, like riding a bike, requires some or all of the functions, or processes, to become part of the subconscious. Athletes are a good example of this. Perhaps a pitching or batting slump in baseball is caused when the player “overthinks” about one function and is actually focusing on an operation that needs to be subconsioucly controlled.
- How come “Ms.” And “Mrs.” distinguishes between a married lady and a single one, while males are labeled “Mr.” either way?
- All this pain must mean good things are on the way, right? But what if I’m only being prepared for the worst?

(4-23-04 Truck died on the way back to school)

On the way back to school, riding with my friend Alex when the truck starts to sputter and die maybe about a mile from school. The sun just barely went down, open up the hood and start peaking around. First things first: take off the air filter, no gas pumping from the primaries, only from the secondaries. Thought there was a problem with the front float or something but turns out the electric fuel pump lost it’s ground because of two loose bolts. But, before we figure that out, it’s pitch dark by now, we’re working by the light of a flashlight and flashing blue lights of a local cop who showed up in response to neighbors reporting “some loud backfiring.” The cop was a really great guy, kinda young like late 20’s and just helps us out like he was happy to have something to do. We think we got the truck going, start back on the road…. But no, still not fixed. Pull back over, cop gives us a ride back to school and says we’ve got an hour to get it back to the parking lot and he’ll “look the other way” if he sees us towing Dolly back (again, this guy was awesome). So, after some key searching, Alex and I get the mighty mighty Dodge, throw ten bucks of gas in, and are trying to think of what the hell we’re going to use to tow the truck with (I knew I only had one tow strap and some nylon tie-downs in my truck). Not sure how it’s going to work when we pass the fire dept. and I see a crew of about 4 or 5 locals shootin’ the breeze out front. Pull a u-turn, go back and I tell the guys my dilemma. One of them drives me to his house, maybe a 1/8mile down the road, we get a chain, and he drives me to my truck as Alex follows. Hook the trucks up, take a nice slow and easy cruise through town and make it back to school like nothing. Shake the guy’s hand and thank Alex (not sure what I would’ve done without her there that night). As we drive out in the Dodge and let Dolly spend the night by the library, I spot campus security, run over to her, tell her my situation and it’s no problem; they made a note of it and I won’t have a ticket now.
Cool night, exciting... Sometimes it's the little bumps and turns in the road that make the best memories.

(4-12-04 been saying this for the last week now…)

We grow accustomed to the things around us, but never the people. On the first day of school, all I could do was look at the buildings and walk around my hall like it was some foreign place (which it was). Then, after being here for awhile, all the surroundings, classes, dorms, all that stuff just becomes second nature, I guess you’d say. Driving a car is another great exmple of a "thing" or place you get used to. If your car breaks down and you go to the rental station, the guy handing you the keys is expecting you to know how to adapt to the new car. He doesn't care if you just got out of a Jetta and have to drive a Slaab *ahem* Saab, you're expected to gel with the new car's characterisitcs (and every car has their own identity when it comes to handling, power, etc.!). Before you know it, by the end of the day, that Saab is practically driving itself as you zone out and don't even realize how comfortable you've got. The people though, they never really become “overlooked.” They’re the kids you see every day and you notice them, all because of choice and the unique human ability to think. That car never backtalked to you before but the kid who just got dumped by his girlfriend before failing the Physics exam, he might have something to say. Next time I pick a school I don’t care what the campus is like, how nice the dorms are, etc., I’m going to pick a place with nice people.


If you know things will be good, if you know that everything will work out for the best, and you don’t doubt that you’ll succeed and meet the right person, then what’s there to worry about? No matter how bad things are now, how dark and dim the world seems to be spinning that day; it won’t mean a thing in future days when you have achieved your goals, satisfied your needs, and met and surpassed every gloomy day known to man… if the future holds accomplishment and victory than tears shed now are for nothing.

(3-28-04 Just some quick writing to kill time)

Experience: self-learned, right? What the hell is it good for? An experienced person can’t tell an inexperienced person what they’ve been through; an individual has to go through something first-hand in order to learn. Your whole life, you can’t really do much or get anything done because, well, you haven’t done it yet. SO by the time you’ve been around the world once or twice, once you’ve finally think you figured things out, you’re body is pretty much toast and some "big dude upstairs" reaches down and plucks you from the earth (or maybe Satin yanks you down, I suppose that depends on your experiences, right?)

(3-28-04 Not long after the life thought…)

Writing: it’s like welding. You can’t get too caught up in looking at what you’re doing with the stick or how you’re moving it; you have to be looking at the material itself, the puddle, or in writing’s case, the ideas, and pay attention to the flow.
Hmmm, obviously have trucks on my mind...

(3-28-04 Life… yet again)

Life is like building a truck; one part fits with the next and the more things you learn, the more parts you know about, the more the entire picture makes sense. You have more control, can make that truck (life) look, drive, and handle like you want, if you know enough about it, if you know the right combinations and have the knowledge to fine tune your project and fix anything that breaks or falls out of place.


The mind is so much more powerful than I think it is given credit for. Anything that can drive a person insane, convince a teenage fool that his heart really does ache, and construct such a thing as “love” is pretty damn talented, and just as underestimated. The mind is even convincing enough to sink a person into such a low, one that he/she “knows” is inescapable, irreversible, yet it is their mind that is causing the pain, the sorrow, and sore feelings (the only real sadness is what their head is telling them they should feel).


Modern times bring way too many options. Some things in life need to be set, like taking time for family, keeping good health, etc. If you’re fat, you need to workout; you don’t have an option!
Relationships suffer greatly from the many choices that couples face today.

(3-16-04 Vacation)

Famous people SUCK. If a 12-year-old paints a picture with quality equal to, if not better than, Van Goh’s crappiest artwork, why is it Van’s work is regarded as a masterpiece while the 12-year-old can only hope to claim space on the family refrigerator? If the pieces are identical, then isn’t the piece itself more important than who painted it? Same goes for speech. I can’t remember all the hours I’ve spent jotting down feelings, notes, ideas, whatever, but because of my age and class or maybe the fact that I haven’t died yet (lots of work only becomes famous after artist dies), they’re meaningless to anyone but myself. Kafka, for example, did the same thing, just keeping journals, letters, diaries, writing down his innermost feelings and all of a sudden his friggin’ bug story (Metamorphosis) is a standard for modernism writing…???
The point: It doesn’t matter who said it; it’s what was said that is important.


Don’t be fake; hide nothing; pretend never. When a friend e-mailed me, explaining the death of her uncle and how her mother “…is able to block it out. It’s like her gift she says, she can only do so much and then she has to think of it in a different way. I guess that’s why she never went down to go see him in his last few days; she wanted to remember the good times and not see him in pain and leaving us. But how could she not go down and see her dying brother...” I replied with:
“I admire your mother's strength, but at the same time, it's what scares me most. I could never do that. Your mom is so worried about wanting to remember the good times, but that's HER memories... what about the poor man about to die, do his final memories not count? Wouldn't you want to be surrounded by those who care for you in the end? It's like I say over and over: life is not about the car you drive, the suit you wear, the size of your wallet... it's the amount of people you've touched, lives you've affected, that matters most. Things are different from family to family and everyone has their reasons and abilities. But all I know is I hope I have a waiting line when I die, full of people just wanting to comfort me and say goodbye, or thank me for something right I may have done—the last thing I'd want is an empty visitor's room, all because everyone wanted to remember me as I was and not for who I am.”


Life, a working definition: Life isn’t the car you drive, the suit you wear, the size of your wallet… it’s the amount of lives you’ve touched, people you’ve affected, and what you mean to those individuals. I could be a millionaire but be the ugliest SOB who ever lived and ultimately be meaningless, or, have little more than a big red truck and the clothes on my back but have the knowing, the absolute truth that at least one person in the world thinks something of me, worries about me, appreciates what I do and understands it. Love is a wonderful thing but, by itself, is hopeless and without purpose—a love shared, now that can change the world with every growing beat, every strengthening moment. I want nothing for myself but to be needed by others; to be remembered for being something good, or even great: I want to be a good guy.
And if that is what life is, then this is how it’s measured: memories. Your history is what makes you, what defines who you are and the choices you’re going to make. Our entire lives we’re making choices. Life’s measurement can be summarized as the chore of making one decision after another, from first breath to last. Waking up in the morning, putting your clothes on, and eating breakfast are all choices, whether you’re conscious of them or not. You didn’t have to crawl out of bed; you didn’t need to butter that waffle; you don’t have to do anything, but doing something is a choice. The object is then to make more right decisions than bad. At eighty years old, when you ask yourself if you had a good life, the answer will be determined solely by the choices you have made, the memories you carry, the things you’ve done for others…


What if it’s not the type of thoughts you have but how many thoughts that makes a person successful? Take person A and person B, for example, where person A has, let’s say, 100 thoughts a day, while person B has 1,000. It mathematically makes sense that person B will come up with more good ideas than person A simply because of the odds.
- Is there a way to measure number of thoughts?


If Einstein used so much more of his brain than the average person and if family plays such a big role in how a person grows and matures (which I think without a doubt it does), then what were the conditions of Einstein’s childhood and can they be recreated today?

*Terminator Thumbs-Up*
*Splinter Hi-Five*
*Conan HandShake*

Copyright©2004 Never Stuck 4x4