D.C. Time

Ok,

So someone went to the Blogger happy hour last night and ended up needing a ride to work this morning. The Gergle wanted to be out the door by 9, and I found myself sitting in the living room tapping my feet at 8:55. When asked about this I said that in D.C. time, out the door by 9 means at least a quarter 'till.

I'm from here; she's all but from here. Is that all the difference it takes? Sure, we didn't have far to go, but don't you always schedule a half hour or so as contingency for all the manners of bullshit that this area can provide? Am I the only one who runs on D.C. time? I don't think I am, but I'd like an established, etched-in-stone definition of D.C. time.

My initial proposal is this: D.C. time is the allotment of 15-30 minutes (depending on time of day, could be stretched out to 45-60 if you're going far) on top of normal travel time to your destination. I think we can work together to make this happen.



Other stuff going on this week:

-Favorite thing about having a beard: I go to bed much later than my girlfriend, who is a legendary blanket and space hog. Usually, when I come to bed I have to work my way onto the actual bed, clawing for every inch of space until I'm on enough to sleep. Then the fight for cover begins. But now that I've got the beard out, I've discovered that I can just kind of nuzzle Gergle's arm with the ol' whiskers and she moves over without waking up. I may never shave.

-If you don't have Sirius, get it now. I'm a huge Stern fan, and the show's been great since he arrived.

-The band search is frustrating. Every angry kid grew up around here listening to Fugazi and Minor Threat and every other kid grew up wanting to be like those kids. I got no problem with that sound. There's a DC sound, and it's loud angry hardcore. Cool. That's fine. But I'm a feeling a little bit like a blue Peep in a package of yellow Peeps.
This is me ready to rock

This is every room I walk into

So that could be going better.

-Final Four tomorrow. I'm not sure what to do. I'm thinking about going out of my way to be able to watch the game, meaning finding a buddy's house or even my mom's place; as the Gergle has managed to remind me every time I've turned a game on this month that she doesn't care about college basketball, which is her way of saying "Maryland's out of it therefore turn that off so I can watch What Not to Wear". I can't stand Maryland fans. I like the team fine, but you guys are ingrates. Anyway, I'm excited for the games and making an effort to be able to watch them, which ensures that either 1) Both games will suck big time, or 2) Something(s) will happen to keep me from watching the two best games ever. This is my life.

-Vote Sanjaya. Really. I'm not officially on the bandwagon yet, but this week might be the week.

Ok, I'm off. Late.

Sprung

So you sit and think and try to
Answer but draw a blank. You
Walk out into the Winter air
Ashamed for not knowing
What is wrong or what to do.

The chill flattens the fields
And ranges of the heart; seals
The ground tough as a callous
Until every step is the same and
The world has you well-heeled.

Ice drips and sloughs off, snows melt
And faces turn to see if how you felt
Has changed; as if you've got a
New shirt, a haircut, new pants
That hold to your waist with a new leather belt.

But you haven't changed. You're still
The same. You know they've had their fill
Of asking and walking away without
Answers you've never had; that you're
Afraid to admit you might never will.

So you find yourself alone there
Typing, windows open to the warming air
When it arrives--the smell of the first
Spring rain crawling its way into the room.
Your eyes well up and you can't leave your chair

Because this is it. The answer is the smell
Of rain, of impending clouds, of the hell
Of anxieties you had when you were small.
The sweet and the rot and the day you knew
You were not, nor would you ever be, well.

But no one who loves you can share
The moment. None of them are there
For you to finally explain to and hope
At last what it means so they can find
A reason not to give up. An excuse to care.

It isn't about hurt. It's not about pain
Or keying a lock or bleaching a stain:
If you need to know what or how or why,
Just crack a window or step outside and
Lose yourself in the smell of the spring's first rain.





Sorry I haven't been writing lately. I'm going to try to get a little better about it. Have a good weekend. Go Hoyas.

What's in a Name?

Ok, let's get a couple things straight:

One: I don't remember all of this "argument". I was pretty hammered at the time.

Two: All of my life, I had been told that you refer to an unmarried woman as "Ms." and a married woman as "Mrs." with Ms. being the short form of "Miss". Then, I have a couple drinks with my girlfriend and all of a sudden she's telling me that's wrong? I don't know how they handle it in other languages and countries, but here in the good ol' US of A we have Ms and Mrs.

The whole point with the ring thing is that it doesn't matter if she wears one or not, she's hot and guys will always hit on hot girls. I take little issue with that; I don't think she's going anywhere with anyone else, I'm not worried. I'm just trying to let her know that there are ways to let a man know that "Hey, I'm married, piss off". The ring might work, going by Mrs might work, it might not. No matter what, at some point you're going to have to tell a man that you're taken and not interested.

My entire point is that here in America, as I understand it, Ms is for a single woman and Mrs refers to a married woman. I want her to keep her name. It's much cooler than mine. In fact, I'd rather change my name if somebody's going to have to change anything.

Mrs is a title. Wear it with pride. That's all I'm saying. Thank you and goodnight.

Happy Hour

Hey,

It was nice to meet everyone last night. Sorry I wasn't more social, but I was tired and really not in much of a mood to be out in the first place. That and I'm not very social. Not anti-social, mind you, just social-resistant.

Anyway, it was cool to meet some of you guys and hopefully there'll be another chance to grab some beers with you.

Guitar Hero, our place, you name the time. You know who you are.

Late.

Everyone, I Have an Idea...

Ok,

So I have been told often throughout my life that I am, and I quote; "A fountain of useless information". I have come to accept that, even if that makes me the obnoxious guy who plays Jeopardy! along with the TV or if it gets me banned from every game of Trivial Pursuit within a 100 miles radius (which it has).

One of the things I love to do is answer questions I have no clue how to answer, and basically just pull information out of my ass. I don't know why, I think I get a kick out of feeling ignorant and just going with whatever dumbass thing comes out of my head (I'm pretty sure there are some unresolved issues there too, but who has time for that?).

SO, in that spirit, I am opening the ol' email box for questions that will eventually become the very first installment of Ask the Bergle. Anything you've ever wanted to know, I will tell you.

I don't want to push the questions into any specific area, but I love relationship questions and give excellent relationship advice. Send 'em in (bergle79@gmail.com) and I'll post my answers when I have a few to put up.

Toodles!

Oscars!!!...No, not really.

Hey,

Was going to do the Oscar recap this year but:

1. I just woke up from falling asleep during the show.
2. Didn't have enough alcohol to get into the right mindset for note-taking, etc.

Really, that show just sucked. So long, so boring, so what. I've got batter fish to fry. I'm job hunting, trying to get back into the habit of working out again, looking for musicians to start a group with and yesterday my truck gets rejected for inspection. So here I am with a loaner Ford Fusion (not a bad car by the way, not awesome but a step up for the boring everyday car) waiting for the call to come get my truck and typing to kill time.

Drives well, but I want to fall asleep looking at it....


Do you ever catch yourself daydreaming? I do. Often. I think that's how I spent most of high school, actually. These days, though, I find myself lost in thoughts like "What do I want my next car to be?" or the big one lately "What (insert item of guitar gear) do I need?". Then you have the two halves of your brain yelling at each other like the girls on America's Next Top Model (yes, the Gergle is making me watch this drivel again, but the good news is we already have nude pics of one of them--and it's one of the ones I like!) with the one side dreaming and the other horribly grounded in reality. I have family, and they're wonderful, but it seems like no one wants to even pretend to help out. My mom offers to pay for school (or a personal trainer since I'm working out again) but if I ask for help getting a new guitar (which I kinda do need) or related stuff it just hits a wall.

Now, my mom is amazing and has always been there for me and I know she always will be there. It just strikes me how anyone with ambitions 'outside' of what people normally do get put through the ringer. I mean, I'm looking for a job. This job, whatever it is, will take a ton of time away from me that I could be spending playing, getting better, and getting recognized. But if I got that job, I'd get that help that I actually need now. I'm really trying to keep this out of ranty, whiny territory, but it just seems like if you don't want to be an accountant or work for some government contractor or something you have to become that in spite of those around you. Even in spite of those who love you and say they'll always be there for you.

I don't know, just some stuff I've been thinking about.