30 July 2008

Done. Gone.

Well, this is it. My last-ever post from 1324. Everything is packed up except for a very few things in my closet, most of which will be thrown away, and my posters. So I’ll be back once more tonight, but I’m taking the computer now.
I’m gonna kind of miss this little place. I mean, the windows don’t open, and there are no drawers in the kitchen, and the kitchen itself is too small to cook anything fancier than macaroni and cheese in, and it’s drafty and cold as hell in winter, and it’s too close to Frat Row, and the bathroom floor is collapsing. It has its problems, is what I’m saying..
But it’s got a nice front porch, great for sitting and reading on, or holding court.  It’s close to most of the places I like to go, and it’s completely sheltered by the surrounding buildings so that it’s always in shade and doesn’t get very hot in summer. Even right here in 4 ½ Alley, downtown and two blocks from campus, it’s isolated and peaceful.  And it’s tiny, but I liked that it was tiny. I don’t have much in the way of possessions, and I’m not claustrophobic. In fact, I’m a claustrophile, or whatever the opposite of a claustrophobe is. When I was little I used to sleep under my bed rather than in it. I liked the enclosed space. If I could afford it, I’d buy a coffin to sleep in, and I would sleep with the lid closed. A cramped apartment suits me, as long as it has a decent kitchen.
And I’ve got lots of good memories of the place. I mean, I’ve lived here longer than I’ve ever lived anywhere in my entire life, and the memories are thick and far-reaching at 1324. Amy and Gerlach and Mrs. D have spent a lot of time here, of course, and they’ll be around for new memories over at 704. But there are memories of folks who’ve gone away, like Katy and my Dooleys, and other folks that I don’t know any more, like Christy and Sheila; those memories had substance here, but in the new place they won’t even be ghosts. It’s too bad.
I like the new place a lot. I’ve stayed there the past two nights, and it’s pretty awesome (except that I haven’t yet figured out how the shower works). I got my first piece of mail over there today (an MST3K episode from Netflix). I think I’m gonna be happy there. I’m not sad, really. It isn’t hard to walk away. But I am kinda gonna miss this cheap, dirty, silly, crappy place. It was a good home.
 

24 July 2008

I admit, it's getting better, a little better all the time.

Well, in case anyone was worried about yesterday’s difficulties, here’s an update. It contains both good news and bad, so we’ll do the bad news first.
I talked to a friend at VCU about whether they were really serious about that ridiculous law against hiring people who never registered for the draft. It turns out that yes, they most definitely are serious. There’s no way around it, no appeal process. They’ll see that on the application and throw it in the trash without reading further. So, that’s out.
Many folks advised me to simply lie on the application. I appreciate your interest in my efforts, but I just couldn’t do that, for three reasons:
First, lying about that is tantamount to turning my back on the beliefs that led me to make that decision in the first place. It would be like a Christian denying Jesus to get a job, or a scientist pretending the Earth is only 6,000 years old. There’s just no way I can do that. I wrestled with it last night, but I’m clear on it now. I’m not going to lie about it.
Second, even if I did lie, I’d be found out. The job I was applying for is a classified position. That sounds funny, ‘cause it’s not like I’d be privy to nuclear secrets or anything. However, I would have access to the records of everyone who works or attends classes or has recently attended classes at the school. That’s all in the system. I would be able to, for example, steal someone’s Social Security number. So, before they hire someone for the position, they do a pretty thorough security check on them, and among the things that would certainly come up is that old problem with the Selective Service.
Third, even if I could somehow get through the interview process, there are at least two people at the school who know my status. If I got hired, they would either have to turn me in, or ignore it and hope nobody else finds out, since they’d then be in trouble for not reporting me. I don’t want to put them in that position.
So, VCU is out. It’s too bad, but I’m gonna move on from that. I still might move back home. I would like to. I might take a week in the fall and go down on a job hunt. But for right now, I’m staying here in Huntington.
You’ll remember that the other problem was not having a place to live after Wednesday. Well, I’ve solved that one, so now we’re in the good news portion of the update.
I found a place. It’s at the corner of 10th Avenue and 7th Street, which is kind of outside the area I want to live in, but not too far. It’s not conveniently located to the library, in that I will not be able to walk to and from work unless I leave really early, but it’s closer to Amy, Gerlach, my brother, and the park, so that probably all evens out. It’s a little more a month than my current place, but not much, and given that everything is included (even electric) it will actually come out to be less than this place, in winter at least.
It is MUCH larger than 1324, also. It’s probably at least three times the floor space. It has a real kitchen with ample cabinet space and room for a microwave, coffee machine, and toaster all at the same time (I’m amazed by this, after four years of unplugging and storing the toaster every time I want coffee) and a full-sized stove. The refrigerator, unfortunately, is the same cheap, skinny piece of crap I’ve got now, but I can live with it.
It is partially furnished, so I’ve got a table to eat at and a bed for guests and shelves built into the wall. It has a desk. It has a bathtub, in a bathroom with porcelain tile on the floor. And there’s a washer and dryer, which is just an unimaginable luxury.
It is not perfect. There is not yet a door on the bathroom, though I’m hoping that will be fixed by the time I move in. They do not allow cats, and I don’t know yet if Jeannie and I will be able to get around that. Parking might be a problem at night; we’ll have to see about that.
But it’s much nicer than I’m used to, and it’s affordable. And I won’t be on a lease. I’ll be paying month-to-month, so if I decide to move out of town (I really do have my heart set on leaving town), I’ll be able to just pack up and go. I’m really excited about it. I promise pictures once I’m in, and figure out how to use the camera the Cat Lady sent me.
So, good news and bad news today, but I’m feeling pretty positive generally, and most of yesterday’s despair is gone. Love and peace to all.

23 July 2008

They never forgive you for not believing what they want you to believe.

As some of you may know, I was something of an idealist as a young man. I still am, I guess, though as I’ve gotten older I’ve honed an ability to see both sides of most serious arguments, and as a result, there are fewer things I believe in now than there used to be. But I’m pretty fierce about the things I do believe in, and no less then than now.
Among those things are these two truths: first, that war, although occasionally necessary, is wrong (duh); second, that the people who run our country are not interested in moral or ethical questions, but rather are motivated purely by self-interest, the lust for power, and (to a lesser extent) by narrow ideologies that, once they’ve reached office, they never seem to question.
I was outraged by injustices perpetrated by the United States government, and they made up a litany that I chanted in the dark years of Reagan’s Eighties. I looked at Polk’s war with Mexico, at the unjustifiable (and ultimately doomed) entry of the U.S. into World War I, and the desperate fiasco of Vietnam. I read about how we overthrew the peaceful, democratically-elected governments of Iran, Guatemala, Chile, and a host of others, and of the human disasters wrought by the right-wing dictators we replaced them with. I learned that our government is capable of great evil.
So, when I turned 18, I was aware that at some point my country might need me to take up arms in its defense, and I was prepared for that. If Russian ships had sailed up the Chesapeake Bay and landed invasion forces in Virginia in 1989, I would have been right there on the front lines, fighting them off. But I knew that historically it is very rare that soldiers are called upon to defend their country. For the most part, they are called upon to destroy other peoples’ countries in the service of the narrow self-interest of the wealthy and powerful.
In other words, I was going to decide for myself whether something was worth fighting, dying, or killing for. I was NOT going to allow that decision to be made for me. I didn’t know anyone else who could be trusted. And so, I refused to register for the draft.
That’s illegal, of course. I suppose they put you in jail for that, though I don’t know the details. How long do they keep you? Do they keep you until you register? If you never register, do they keep you ‘til you die? I should have researched this, really. But being idealistic, and a bit naïve (and then as now a little dramatic) I was willing to go to jail when they came for me. I may also have been calculating how much my success with the hippie chicks would increase after such an arrest. Going to jail for what you believe in…what’s more American than that?  What could possibly be sexier?
They did come for me, of course. By happy coincidence, when they came to my house, I was already in jail for something else (something distinctly non-idealistic, but that’s a story for another time). I suppose they made a note to come ‘round again after I got out, then filed me away while they dealt with the other recalcitrants, and eventually forgot about me. They never came back. I slipped through the cracks.
It’s a strange fact about human nature that, once you’ve convinced yourself that you believe something strongly enough to go to prison rather than recant, it’s a little disappointing if you never, in fact, go to prison for it. Nevertheless, I never did register for the draft, and I’m proud of that.
It has caused me some problems in my life. When I was an International Affairs major, I discovered that I can’t hold any sort of federal job. Not only can I not be, say, Attorney General, but also I can’t be a low-level clerk at the Justice Department. Given my major, the State Department would have been the obvious employer to seek out after graduation. Even if I didn’t plan to make a career out of it, that would be the place to get experience, make contacts, get my foot in the door. However, in order for me to have even a minor position working for the Federal Government, there would have to be an actual Act of Congress. I’m pretty sure I’m not important enough to debate on the Senate floor, you know? So, there was nothing to be done about it, and after considering various options, I quietly decided to go for a different degree.
Degrees, actually, have been a much bigger problem in general. See, not only am I not eligible for government work, I’m also not eligible for federal money. None at all. The only program that I’m legally allowed to take part in is Social Security. Everything else is closed to me, and that includes every kind of Financial Aid available. None of the big government programs for student aid are open to me. I can’t even get student loans that are backed by Federal money. The main reason I still don’t have a degree is financial; you have to work full-time just to live, and if you’re doing that and going to school full time, that’s pretty stressful. But if you aren’t getting any sort of financial help, you have to have another part-time job (at least) to pay tuition and costs. There just isn’t enough time. If I work enough to pay tuition I can’t go to school, and if I have enough time to go to school I can’t afford tuition.
There are other problems, too, and they never go away.  There is no statute of limitations on this offense; once you’ve reached 27 (the age at which you can no longer register), you can never be forgiven.  Still, I don’t regret the decision, even after all these years. I believe still that I was right, and if there’s been trouble from it, it hasn’t been anything I couldn’t handle. I have lived an interesting and full life. I’ve been everywhere and done everything. I’ve grown tremendously as a person, if I do say so myself. I’ve learned so many wonderful and fascinating things, and known so many wonderful and fascinating people, and I’ve always had fun, always.
I’m not even sure that the lack of a degree has hurt me. I mean, yeah, maybe I would have had a more “respectable” job, making more money. Maybe so. But maybe I would have been less happy as well, because I would almost certainly have been less free. The absence of a degree hasn’t kept me from getting a lot of jobs that I’ve enjoyed. And now, of course, there’s the job at VCU, which doesn’t require a degree and for which all of my recent experience qualifies me. This is sort of like a dream come true, really; I’m perfect for the job, and the job is perfect for me. After all the miles and all the years, I’ll get to go back home. If you’ll forgive me for quoting T.S. Eliot:

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Yeah, exactly. What could be more exciting than that?
The job has been posted finally. I feel like I have a pretty good shot at it. I have fixed up the nicest résumé I was able to without actually lying and sent it along. I have been (indirectly) in contact with people who will be involved in the hiring process, and they’ve been encouraging. I’ve told my landlord that I’m leaving, and notified the people I work for that I might be gone at the end of the summer. The only thing left to do is fill out the online application and schedule an interview.
So I was filling out the application, and I came across this:

Section 2.2-2804 of the Code of Virginia prohibits any board, commission, department, agency, institution or instrumentality of the Commonwealth from employing a person who is required to present himself and submit to the federal Selective Service registration requirement and failed to do so. If you are/were required to register for the Selective Service, have you done so?
And now I really don’t know what I’m gonna do.

UPDATE (5:38): Pretty momentous day. I just found out that I have to move. Which, yes, I was planning to move anyway, but not ‘til sometime in August (regardless of what happens with VCU). I discovered just now that I have to be out of my apartment by July 31. So, I need a new place, that isn’t too expensive, and won’t tie me to a long-term lease. Any suggestions?

10 July 2008

I only kill to know I'm alive.

I’ve got no problem, generally speaking, with life imitating the movies. However, it seems like life never imitates the right movies, you know? It’s never Amélie or anything sweet like that (I would love to spend the day running all over town solving puzzles, especially if the last one would lead me to Audrey Tautou). No, for some reason, when the screen world bleeds into the real world, it’s always something kinda scary.
They’ve got a new warplane. It’s a little computerized drone that flies around on its own, blowing things up, without a pilot. Now, I hear you saying, “But they’ve already got drones like that, and they’re using them in Iraq and Afghanistan.” No, they don’t. The ones in use right now are remote-controlled. They have cameras and “pilots” sitting safely in a bunker somehow guiding them to their targets. Whatever those things do, an actual person makes them do it. These new planes, though, are completely automated. You tell them what to destroy, and then they go off and destroy it on their own. Tell me that isn’t a recipe for disaster.
Anyway, the new plane is named the Reaper, which just proves again that irony is dead, but I prefer to call it the “Flying Death Machine.” Several thousand of them are currently under construction at Wright-Patt in Dayton, Ohio, which is now reason #41,356 I’m glad I don’t live in Ohio anymore.
That isn’t the scary part, though. See, I said “you” tell them what to destroy, but that isn’t true. “You” don’t. Even if, by some chance, “you” are the President or the Secretary of Defense or the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff (it would be awesome if any of those people actually read my LJ), you don’t tell it what to target. No, that job has been given to a super-computer. That’s right, a fleet of thousands of Flying Death Machines are under the control of a computer which, I’m sure, will never become self-aware and turn on its human overlords. I mean, the scientists who designed the thing would make sure that couldn’t happen, right?
Sure they would. I am confident that they put some sort of “do not become self-aware and turn on your human overlords” switch on it.  I mean, these are serious scientists, the best and brightest.
Oh, and by the way, would you like to know what these genius scientists named their insurrection-ready computer? Think for a moment; what’s the best possible name you could give a computer like this? What name would signify that you really are absolutely not trying to court disaster, and don’t have your hopes set on the worst possible outcome? Science fiction fans are probably waaay ahead of me here: they named it SkyNet. For those of you who aren’t fans of science fiction, “SkyNet” was the name of the computer in the Terminator movies.  You know, the one that became self-aware and turned on its human overlords. And subsequently destroyed all life on Earth.
Remember the words of Kyle Reese:  It can’t be bargained with. It can’t be reasoned with. It doesn’t feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are dead. “Excellent,” says science.  “Let’s put it in charge of the Flying Death Machines! With that attitude, what could go wrong?”
This is one of those movies that life way the hell definitely does not need to be imitating.
Our only hope now is that silly action movies will continue to make the transition from screen to reality, and James Bond will be sent after these people, and their SkyNet Instant Armageddon Generator and their Reaper Flying Death Machines, before it’s too late. Keep your fingers crossed.