Vote

Politics. It isn't a subject I like to breech very often. All the conflicting ideas. People tend to get really upset when you don't see things their way. Human nature I suppose. Being the top of the food chain makes us a bit prideful at times. We get too wrapped up in the "I'm right and everyone else is wrong" attitude.

I have opinions, you have opinions, the other guy has opinions... blah blah blah. The deal is we all have our own thoughts, beliefs, and opinions. It is what makes us unique. It is what makes us human. Some disagree less and some don't agree on anything, but what we all have in common regardless of our beliefs, thoughts, or opinions is that we bleed red. Well unless you are an alien hiding among us humans with some weird blue white blood or something. The point is we are all human and we all have the right to vote.

Nothing burns me up more than to hear someone say they don't vote because it doesn't matter. We fought long and hard for this right. Blood mixes with sweat throughout history, some not so long ago, to ensure we have the right to vote. I for one fight a little tear each and every time I vote as I think of those who gave everything to ensure I had that right.

So no matter what you think or feel, find the candidates that align most with what is truly important to you and ensure you are registered to vote. It isn't hard and it isn't time consuming, but it is important. And don't forget that you aren't just voting for a president. There are many offices to fill and those offices will shape the future of our country. If you don't vote and it goes bad you've no one to blame but yourself. Your voice deserves to be heard. Now go get registered.

And that, ladies, gentlemen, and those in-between, was my public service announcement for the night. Until next time... BUBBLES!!!

Small Town USA

I've heard of Small Town USA, but before now I'd never really experienced it. I had just assumed that it was exactly like larger towns only fewer people. I am never afraid to admit when I was wrong. Clearly this is one of those cases. In fact I've never been more wrong.

I realize I've been MIA for some time now and I have a good reason. I went back to school to be a medical assistant while working full time. It was a fast paced, 12 month, program that required all of my attention. So as you can imagine between the full time job and full time school I had no time for anything else. Sadly this meant putting my blog on the back burner. But I am back and ready to entertain once again. Especially since it would appear I am going to be jobless for a while.

So after graduating my partner and I moved to Trenton, TN. Don't bother looking for it on a map, it is a tiny pinprick. Suffice it to say it is north of Jackson, TN. At any rate since moving here I have come to feel the full shock of small towns.

As you may or may not know I like to dress to impress. What that means to me is not wearing the most expensive designer or the flashiest colors. I simply like to look nice. I like to match and I like to wear clothes that make me feel... well for lack of a better word... pretty. People in Trenton like to wear sweat shorts and T-shirts 3 sizes to large. I have no problem with this. I say people should wear whatever makes them feel comfortable. I personally am more comfortable when I feel like I look good. So I go to the market (yes, that is actually what we call it here) wearing what for me is a very normal outfit. Cyan with black stripes V-neck T, white-washed faded jeans with a few holes in just the right places, blue and black checkered slip on shoes, and a brown/blue plaid fedora. Some may consider this over the top, but I consider this normal attire. The faces that stared and jeered at me as I walked into that store seriously made me fear for my life. I was seriously afraid someone was going to jump me and beat me with a baseball bat. Now to be fair I am a tad paranoid of such things having heard stories in the news, but still. So I've decided it might be safer if I only wear my fedoras if I'm planning a trip to Memphis or Jackson. Here the extent of my dress will be jeans and a pull-over. Unless it is Sunday in which case I could wear a shirt and tie and no one would think anything at all odd about that.

Which brings me to my next story. Apparently here everyone doubles as a preacher. OK so maybe not everyone does, but our plummer does. When he first arrived he asked me if I was Jason and I of course said no I'm Chris. This caused him to ask who Jason was and I told him he is my partner the teacher who is at work currently. I thought nothing of it and moved on. Seemed like a perfectly normal conversation to me. I moved on to the back yard so I could stay out of their way. A little later he comes to the back yard to tell me all was fixed and then asks if I minded if he asked a personal question. I thought what the heck I knew it was coming sooner or later. We are after all only one of Trenton's two gay couples. (The other couple owns the feed store down the street. Or so it is rumored. I haven't actually met them.) So he proceeds to tell me he was impressed by my candor in admitting that Jason was my partner and then begins to ask very predictable questions; how long have I been with men, how long have I known, do we have a church, what can you tell me about Jesus... etc. So I did the only thing that made sense. I answered his questions truthfully and to the best of my ability and then began quoting scripture. Such as where Paul says to work out your own soul salvation with fear and trembling, thus saying to worry about yourself and leave others to do the same without meddling. And then my all time favorite judge not lest ye be judged. Which pretty much says the same thing. I would have went farther, but since he was clearly shocked by my quoting scripture at him I decided to stop. Poor thing. He was all ready to be the first to witness to the new gay couple, but instead got a little sermon of his own. I believe it took him off guard.

And my last and final qualm with Small Town USA is the stress of finding a job. I won't say much on this subject as there isn't much to say. Frankly I don't even begin to understand it. If I were still in Knoxville I would have had at least four or five job offers by now. Here I have applied for everything I'm even remotely qualified for and not even a single call. I have what I believe to be a pretty impressive resume. I should think it would have warranted at least one call from the dozens of places I've applied. Apparently I am mistaken once again. I don't know what these small town places are looking for, but it clearly is not me.

So having said all of that I ask you... How do I begin to understand Small Town USA? Cause right now I'm at a total loss. Until I do, however, I've decided to dive into my crocheting. I've tried selling my works before and I doubt now will be any different, but at least it is something to do. So stay tuned to my store www.etsy.com/princeyuri for my creations born of boredom.

So with the question of "where am I?" Ladies, Gentlemen, and those in-between I bid you all... BUBBLES!!!

Crayons

"Dear God." The little boy prayed one night. "Why did you make me different?"
"Why my child," God replied in a gentle tone. "Let me ask you a question first. When you buy a box of crayons, do you prefer a box with only a few colors, or one with many colors?"
"That is easy." The child quickly replied. "I want as many colors as possible."
"And why is that?"
"'Cause. I need different colors for different things I'm coloring."
"Exactly! And when you line those crayons up, how do they compare?"
"Well there are some that are very similar and some that are very different. Like purple is really close to lavender, but not even close to black."
"And what would your pictures look like if all your colors were similar?" God asked the child with pride in his voice.
"They would be very boring and no one would like them."
"That is exactly right." God replied as the light of the moon got brighter in the room. "That is how boring the world would be if I made everyone similar. I make different people because they all have a different role to play. You may not understand why you are as different as a purple crayon is from a black one right now, but one day when only purple will do you will understand."
The little boy smiled. "I'll be ready."
--Chris Pollock 10/25/11

An Odd Statement for your Truck?

While on vacation in Arkansas I noticed something that was both hilarious and deeply disturbing. Maybe it is just me, but I'll let you decide for yourself. Especially given that the state of Tennessee has just recently reiterated the law that prohibits someone from putting something "offensive" on your car where other vehicles can see it.

We stopped at a Wal-Mart for supplies and I noticed something hanging from the trailer hitch of a parked truck beside us. Naturally I had to inspect it. From where I was standing it looked like an upside down, misshapen, blue heart. Naturally as any sane human would I found this a very odd thing to put on a truck. Especially a big burly work truck like this. I also noticed that the truck was the same blue as this odd object.

I've seen some pretty interesting things hanging from the bottom of vehicles before; Superman, miniature human dolls swinging from their hair, stuffed animals... the list goes on. I've never quite understood it, but I suppose it is a valid form of expression. Not one I would chose, but to each their own.

Upon closer inspection I find that this oddly heart shaped item is really a dangling replica of blue balls. That's right... this truck had a matching set of balls. I know the truck was blue, but advertising that you have blue balls wouldn't be a choice I would make. I mean come on... It isn't odd enough that you feel the need to give your truck its own testosterone that you have to also make them blue? How would you even broach that subject with your friends? "Dude guess what. My car has blue balls now. I've been thinking you guys don't make fun of me enough so I decided to add this conversational piece."

I soon discovered that making sure your truck is obviously male is quite the trend in Arkansas. Everywhere we went we saw trucks swinging their own sets of various colors. Apparently truck owners in the state believe all trucks are born female and adding its own sack instantly causes it to change genders. I wonder if this technique works on other items? But I digress.

As redneck as the state of Tennessee can be sometimes I would have thought I would have seen them here before, but I guess the citizens of our state either believe it would be offensive or just don't see the need in having a male truck. I personally don't think I'll ever have a truck, but should I get one someday I can assure you it will not be sporting any balls. Blue or otherwise. Imagine backing too closely to a wall or hitting a low spot in the road. It would be devastatingly painful.

Naturally I had to google these things and as it turns out they have been around since 1998 and not surprisingly several states have banned them. Also not surprising is the fact that most people owning a pair don't care and continue to sport them anyway. The fact that state lawmakers sit around discussing truck balls and whether or not they are vulgar made me laugh so hard I peed my pants just a little. During such a debate in Florida one lawmaker admitted to owning a pair for his truck until his wife made him remove them. This too caused leakage. Only in America could something like this cause both outrage and fascination.

Until next time... Bubbles!!!

Different Worlds

You've heard the term "so close, yet so far away"? Turn it around. There are times when two people can be so far away, yet so very close. You may know of these people or you may think it impossible. Regardless here is the story. To avoid confusion we shall call them D and J.

J is the child of the mayor of a small town. D the youngest child of a large family that couldn't afford to keep D around. So from the age of 14 D has been cleaning the same building that J's father worked in.

J was well mannered, well spoken, and well bred. D was too busy trying to survive so the fact that D graduated high school was a miracle.

So at this point the story becomes obvious so I'll skim. J sees D, they start hanging out as friends, friends becomes more, the mayor notices, the mayor forbids them to see each other any more, and they start seeing each other in secret.

Here is the part that makes no sense. The mayor figures it out and it gets to him so badly that he goes nuts. He uses his connections to frame D for murder. J helps D to flee before J's father is able to catch D. J stays behind to try to convince the mayor to drop the madness and do the right thing. The mayor wouldn't back down and D was on the lamb.

I could bore you with all the details of what D did while trying to stay out of jail, but frankly my fingers are tired so I'll get right to it. The longer D was able to evade capture the more crazy it made the mayor. It became an obsession.

Eventually the mayor gets D and in a heroic effort to save D, J gets shot. J's gun goes off accidentally as it flies from J's hand and hits the mayor. Suddenly the D is the only one left standing surrounded by a bunch of muscle men who suddenly realize they aren't getting paid now and lose interest.

So who are D and J? Why was the mayor so dead set against them being together? Does it really matter? The details aren't really relevant. Two people are dead and another's heart will never be the same. The only thing that actually matters here is that love, regardless of its form or how strange it may seem to you, is never worth destroying. The price is always too high.

On that note Ladies, Gentlemen, and Those in Between; I bid you... BUBBLES!!!

Do We Ever Really?

I have been silent for a while and for the 3 of you who actually read this because there is nothing better to do I sincerely apologize. For the rest of you who never even noticed... congratulations on having a life. Regardless there has been a lot going on so let me try to catch you up to speed before we get to the main topic that inspires today's title.

It all started with a birthday curse. I have a history of bad birthdays, but that is a story (or series of stories) for another time. This year, however, the curse appears to have been broken. I had the best birthday ever. The wonderful man of my life surprised me with a party at Chuck-E-Cheese and I partied the night away watching a freaky mouse run around and playing oddly addictive games with fake gold coins. Made out like a bandit with an awesome stuffed dog wearing a rather fashionable Chuck-E-Cheese hoodie. I thought as many of you are now that a dog's ears would look ridiculous poking out from underneath a hoodie, but it actually works. I considered having my ears stretched so I could go for the same look, but after I realized I wouldn't be able to grow the fur it lost it's luster.

I was also surprised with an awesome bike. This has been one of the biggest reasons for my silence. Ever sunny day we have had since I've spent outside breaking it in. It has a cute little bell and everything. It is one of the cruiser style types that totally looks like me. It has been a blast.

Of course the rest of my time has been spent with storms and hail damage, but that is a depressing subject and our experience nothing compared to that of a whole lot of others. So I'll move on to present day and our actual topic.

I'm the kind of person that does best when I know what is going on, what my plan is, and that I have control over the situation. It is those situations that I am at my best. Regardless of how seemingly impossible the situation is as long as I understand what is going on and have a plan in place that I can control regardless of the outcome of said plan I'm at my best. Some would say that I work best under pressure. I suppose that is probably the best way to put it.

The situations where I have no idea what is going on or as a result how to deal with it... I freak out. I have no idea how to handle a situation that I don't understand. I have a deep unsettling fear of the unknown. When I have no control over what is going on I just don't know how to react and the anxiety soars.

I'm in a place right now where the unknown is seriously staring me in the face. As I'm contemplating it the question arises. Do we ever really have control? Even with a plan in place. Is anything really under control?

So if we consider that we really never have control the question become then, is it the illusion of control that actually gives me peace? If so is that okay, or should I remind myself that even when I think I have control I really don't? Would that then cause me to freak out when I would normally be good or would it cause me to be at peace when I would normally freak out. Or to get even deeper on you would it be possible to develop a balance between the two so I stay a little worried and a little at peace during both stages? If you followed any of this you are indeed special. Just not sure if it is short bus special or genius special.

The point of all this is... Shit happens. It happens daily and sometimes it is really uncool. The thing is it isn't about what life throws at you, (and it will never stop throwing you one shitty storm after another) but rather how you decide to approach it.

Well Ladies, Gentlemen, and Those in Between; I won't be so silent in the coming days so be ready. Until then... BUBBLES!!!

Road Etiquette

I'm not talking about driving etiquette or cutting someone off. I'm talking about more like what goes on with the car or in the car. Let me explain.

I'm driving down the interstate in the middle of rush hour traffic. Cars are everywhere. I'm just going along when suddenly I feel that horrible feeling of a foreign object in my nose. Naturally this isn't something I would be able to do in the presence of polite company, but I'm all alone in my car. Right? So I reach up there and remove the pesky thing and that is that.

Then it hits me. I'm not alone. There are cars everywhere. And in those cars are people. What if someone saw me? What if I run into this stranger at the grocery store and they give me this weird look that says, "Whoa! that is the dude from the interstate the other day that picked his nose". Hey. It could happen.

So I start paying closer attention to the cars around me to see if I'm the only weirdo. It would appear not.

There is a truck not far from me that it would appear ran over some garbage that got stuck on the underneath that the owner is either oblivious too or just doesn't care to let his garbage fly. It is just flapping around waving to all the passerbys. Well that is one for my team I guess. So I continue looking.

Not far ahead of me is a small car with something dangling from underneath the rear bumper. I get closer to investigate. It appears to be some kind of large key chain that is a cartoon resemblance of a guy in baggy pants. The way it is dangling and flopping while the car is in motion makes it look like the guy is hanging from the gallows. I'm embarrassed for the owner of this car now.

So apparently I'm in good company. Road etiquette is obviously not closely monitored. Or is it? You decide, but meanwhile Ladies, Gentlemen, and Those in Between... Bubbles!!!