Radio Silence

After six months of hearing nothing -- literally nothing but automated email responses -- back from potential employers, I finally have landed a job interview! I'm excited by the opportunity and confident that I'm qualified for the job, but I don't want to presume that I'll actually get the job. I don't want to raise my expectations only to have them squashed.

Actually, in the past couple weeks, I've gotten a few other promising inquiries:

• A small, Chicago-based web company contacted me to write some online help for their site. This is turning into a story unto itself, and there will probably more to tell later
• A headhunter in Kansas City must have found one of my old resumes and has asked if she could submit it to a few companies back in Missouri. I gave her the go-ahead because the jobs sounded kind of interesting
• The state of Illinois has asked me to come in for a competency test to see if I'm qualified for a position that I applied for a month ago. I'm waiting on my college transcript to arrive
• Even a regular customer at worked asked me if I would be interested in helping her walk dogs. I gave her my number

I'm not sure if this is the end of the radio silence of the past half-year or just a momentary reprieve. Either way, I'm grateful for the much needed morale boost.

Dripping and Shivering

When we were still dating, sometimes The Magster Magdus and I would take showers together. When the shower was over, we would throw back the curtain, grab our towels, and wrap them about ourselves. She would step out onto the bathmat and begin to dry her body and hair. I would not, instead choosing to shiver and complain about the cold world outside the shower, mustering up the initiative to step out of the tub. She would chastise me for dripping dry instead of toweling off. Often she was fully dried and dressed before I would begin to mop the remaining moisture from my skin.

But this isn't about Magdus or showering. It's about dripping and shivering.

My shower ended last year. I threw back the curtain and stepped out of the tub onto the Chicago area. Since then I've been watching my friends getting dressed and getting ready for the rest of their lives.

For starters, Magdus is finding peace and reconnecting with her family. As for my other Kansas City friends, P. Tott is finding his niche and advancing in his career. Katie has her Master's now. Rachel has her own place and is enjoying her job. Jaysix is finishing up one of his Semi-Concrete Life Goals™. Here near Chicago, Nico has gotten a place with her boyfriend and is taking classes. Happy Time and Stellar are learning how to not only live with addiction, but also live better in spite of it and because of it.

All the while, I seem to be huddled in my towel, dripping and shivering -- wishing to move on.

Missing Kansas City

Two days ago, I stayed the night in Kansas City on my way to visit my parents in southern Missouri. Despite being in town for less than twelve hours, and only going from Union Station to my sister's house, I realized how much I missed the city.

It wasn't the city -- the location, the buildings, the lights, the smell -- that I missed so much as my ideas and memories of the place. I miss knowing my way around. I miss having pride in my city and community. I miss feeling like I was making progress in my life. I miss feeling like I had some things figured out. I miss feeling freedom. I miss drinking to excess. I miss not having to worry about money. I miss loving a girlfriend. I miss friends I'd had since highschool.

Of course, nostalgia hits you in the heart, not the head: I don't miss frustration with work and discontent with my professional life. I don't miss different groups of friends not getting along and growing distant from my lover. I don't miss wasted time and bad decisions.

I have some good memories of and feelings toward my Chicago experience so far, but nothing like those of KC. I want to feel as fond of my new city as much as I do of my old one. Perhaps time is the only remedy for this.

Rejected Transplant

During my first couple of months here, I was applying for jobs in the city pretty haphazardly (whatever seemed interesting on Craigslist or CareerBuilder) and getting at least one reply a week. If the reply wasn't to invite me to an interview, it was sometimes to ask me to clarify or expound upon something in my cover letter or resume. At the very least, I was getting responses back to say that the position had already been filled or that they didn't think I was qualified. Then, almost two months ago, the replies stopped.

About the time that I started applying not only to jobs that seemed interesting but also to just about any job I thought I could do for a while and that payed enough for me to get by -- about that time, I stopped hearing back from the people I was sending my resume to. At first, I thought it was just a dry spell, but, nearly two months later, it's seeming more like a drought.

I'm not sure if the problem is with what I'm applying for, who I'm applying to, or something on my resume. But I'm beyond discouraged. I had thought that by now I would have had a job for a month or two, be looking for an apartment, and saving up for one more month or so before I moved out of Happy Time and Stellar's place. But here I am: surviving only by the grace of friends and no closer to finding employment or living quarters in the city than I was at the beginning of the summer.

Moving from Kansas City seems pretty long ago. More and more it feels like it was a mistake. What opportunities did I think were here for me? What did I dislike so much about Kansas City? I don't even remember anymore. And I literally can't go back; I don't have the means or any better of a shot finding a job back there anyway.

The transplant is complete, and I'm sewn inside this new city. I am a mismatched organ, and Chicago is rejecting me wholesale.

Hungovercast

It's raining, and I can still taste the beer and cigarettes in my mouth, like one last lingering goodbye kiss.

See you around, Kansas City.

McBastard's Last Week in Town

I've been wrapping up my existence here in Kansas City in preparation for moving to Chicago. I finished everything that needed finishing for my job on Wednesday. I said goodbye to The Magster. I had one last drunken bender with the old gang. Now I'm in the process of selling off some unnecessary possessions that I've been dragging around for years and packing up what I really need. In five days I should be ready to hit the road.

I'm finding that it's not hard to leave Kansas City (a little expensive, but not that difficult), but it is hard to leave the people. I've been trying not to make a big deal of my goodbyes, assuring people that I'm not disappearing, that they'll hear from and probably see me again. I give a wry smile and a shrug as if to say, "No big deal." But I'm sure even these cynical, emotionless eyes will mist up before I leave the city limits.

Moving to Chicago

Citing reckless immaturity and a lack of responsibility, I've decided to quit my job and move to Chicago. I've already put in my two weeks at work and made plans to stay with Stellar and her husband for a while. Now all I have to do is actually get there.

A couple months ago I had started looking for a new job -- mostly in KC, but I applied to a few in Chicago. I told myself that I wasn't going to start looking for a new apartment (My lease is up in May.) until I found a new job. I wasn't even going to consider Chicago unless I had a firm foothold there.

Well, I had gotten a little disheartened recently because I wasn't getting much of a response -- only one interview. But recently (as in yesterday) I decided that I was thinking about this whole job thing the wrong way: I had been looking for a career instead of a life in which I had a job.

This realization came to me during a conversation I had with Stellar as she tried to convince me to move to Chicago:

Stellar: The chicks are hotter in Chi-town
Mr. McBastard: oh yeah?
Stellar: It's a better city for getting drunk, watching live baseball, and wandering around the streets with all the other happy drunk fans
Mr. McBastard: i wouldn't mind hotter chicks or public intoxication, but it's the job thing that's driving me right now
Mr. McBastard: as i typed that i got kind of sad
Stellar: Why?
Mr. McBastard: i'd rather have my life based on chicks and booze than a job
Stellar: hahahaha
Stellar: Welcome to being a grownup
Mr. McBastard: this blows
Stellar: Indeed

And it's true. I'm not ready (Will I ever be?) to devote myself to my job and settle into a career. I'm not a care-free kid anymore, but I'm not exactly old either. I'll have the rest of my life to be serious about my work and make money. Right now, I just want to do something I don't absolutely hate and be with people I absolutely love.

It's not like I haven't done this is Kansas City already. So, why move? Well, why not? It's like that saying with the varieties and the spices and whatnot. I'll see what Chicago's like until I get bored with it, and move to the next city. Or maybe not. Who knows? At least I'll be doing something interesting.

So, to the people I'm leaving behind: Keep in touch. To the people I'm going toward: Get ready. And the the people every place else: Visit me some time; we'll do something rash and irresponsible together.

The Truth About Kansas City

How many more Missourians have to suffer needlessy, simply because of ignorance? Help raise awareness about this important issue. Knowledge is power.

Tell 'em where KC is via the internet!

KC Renaissance Festival 2007

catch a dandy ...

I uploaded pictures from this year's Renaissance Festival. Of note are these photos:

• rawr 1
• surrender the booty
• kansas city in the distance 2
• bugs 1

Bumper Sticker

I was driving down the highway, minding my own business, when I checked my rear view mirror. To my surprise, I found a pair of eyes staring back at me. The eyes themselves didn't surprise me, nor did the fact that they stared at me intently. Rather, their proximity is what left me startled. The last time I'd checked there was no one in my back seat.

The eyes were almost close enough that I could have counted the individual rods and cones. Yet, these peepers were owned by someone in a separate vehicle. The vehicle behind me. Right fucking behind me.

I'm not the kind of guy that would put a bumper sticker on his car, but driving in Kansas City for the past nine months has made me want one that says If you can read this, you're too close.

Actually, I'd want something with little more oomph: If you can read this, get off my ass! or Why don't you check my prostate while you're back there?

Or maybe I could try reasoning with tailgating bumper-fuckers with something like I'm not afraid to wreck my Pontiac. How much do you like that Lincoln?

Anyway, I once took up thinking of bumper stickers that I wouldn't mind seeing on the road on my drive to work (way back, when I had to commute to Kansas). Here are some that I remember with a few more recent additions:

• I'm not a crazy woman driver. I'm from Johnson County.
• My other car is a bigger piece of shit.
• My child is an honor student, but I'm still and idiot.
• If this car is driving straight, the driver is having a seizure. Please assist.
• Kansas: We don't hate black people ... just as long as they live in Missouri.

Dear Kansas City Drivers

Did you know that you can go just as fast as the car in front of you without riding three feet from its back bumper? I've known this little tidbit for years, but I thought I'd pass along the secret to everyone else. Happy driving!

| Tags || kansas city | driving |

Treatise on the Mosh Pit

Over the weekend, I went to a rock concert at the Beaumont Club in Kansas City. TrustCO. played, as well as Pacifier and Fingertight. It was a pretty good show, but the pit was horrible. I've been to quite a few concerts at many different venues and have seen many different kinds of mosh pits. I've seen good pits and bad pits. In order to make every pit a "good pit" I think there are some things that every mosher should know and understand before entering a pit.

What makes a pit good: Many people jumping around and pushing off each other with no malicious intent towards anyone else in the pit.

What makes a pit bad: Many people shoving and punching and ramming each other with intent to hurt someone else.

People that make a pit bad:
Meatheads: If your biceps are bigger than your head, you can bench-press more than a quarter of a ton, and have more testosterone than common sense, you are a meathead. The pit is not a game of King of the Hill. The object is not to push everyone out of the pit and be the only one in the center. In fact, the only object of a mosh pit is to stay on your feet and keep moving.
Youngins: Not to put an age limit on it, but if you haven't hit puberty yet, you are a youngin'. Nobody wants to knock you down and crack your skull, but if you enter the pit, they will.
Angry Pricks: If you have problems with aggression and exhibit homicidal tendencies, you are an angry prick. The pit is a good place to release tension by expending a lot of energy. The pit is not a good place to release aggression by punching and wrestling people. If you throw a punch with the intent of connecting with someone's body and hurting them, you are doing something wrong. And don't get angry when someone in the pit hits you. Most likely it was and accident, and if you didn't want to get hit, you should have stayed out of the pit.
Girlfriends: I think this group is self-explanatory. But this is not to say that no girl should go into the pit -- there are some pretty tough broads out there -- but no girl should be drug into a pit without her consent. If you're pulling your girlfriend into a pit, first ask her whether or not she minds being stepped on, slammed in the back, and elbowed in the head, because these will most likely happen. Don't get angry when they do (see Angry Pricks).

Things to consider before entering a pit:

• If you carry anything into the pit, you will most likely lose it.
• If your glasses come of or if you lose your contacts, you will never see them again.
• Collars and bracelets with spiked studs in them can and will hurt you and everyone else in the pit.
• Your shoes should be tied as tight as possible
• Your clothes will be wet with sweat, water, spit, and possibly (but hopefully not) blood. Dress accordingly.
• You're only goal should be to have fun in the pit.

Things to consider while in a pit:

• No one in the pit means to intentionally hurt you; retaliation isn't necessary.
• Tying your shoes even between songs can be dangerous.
• If you feel faint, exhausted, tired, too squished, or weak, get out of the pit as quickly as possible. If you can't move by yourself, the people around you will be more than willing to help you. Nothing is worse than a show stopping to evacuate an unconscious fan.

Mosh pit etiquette:

• If someone falls down, help them up.
• If you find a shoe or any other article of clothing, hold it in the air.
• If someone is injured, help block them from further injury.
• If someone on the edge of the pit does not want to go in, do not push them.

Overall, everyone should be enjoying themselves in a mosh pit. If you have any other agenda, you do not belong in the pit. This cannot be stated enough: The purpose of a pit is not to intentionally harm anyone else. Although mosh pits can be dangerous (we've all heard the horror stories), if everyone looks out for each other, everyone should have a good time beating the crap out of each other. By the end of the concert you should walk away with a smile on your face (and maybe a bruise or two).