Author: Jamoosh

Something Nefarious is Going On

Jamoosh

I certainly don’t want to be an alarmist. In today’s America, where all news, regardless of facts, is fake news, using a bullhorn to make your dissatisfaction known is the go-to means to not only let people know where you stand, but also shout very loudly, because apparently shouting very loudly is the only way to convey a sense of urgency bordering on a life-or-death situation. Damn, that was one heck of a sentence. My English teacher is aghast. Sorry, Mrs. Rocca.

The list of people Donald Trump has revoked security clearances from reads like a who’s who of people he is mad at for some reason or other. To be fair, there is nothing wrong with revoking clearances of government officials who are no longer a part of the government. It’s actually not a bad practice, regardless of the pettiness with which Trump approaches it.

But then we have the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE – pronounced “dodgy” for those wondering at home). DOGE seems to have gotten clearances overnight – at least I am assuming all DOGE workers have the necessary clearance to conduct government business.

A quick tangent. DOGE is doing exactly what we might expect a government organization with the word “efficiency” in its title to do. They are, in fact, making things exponentially less efficient. We can jest about DOGE in the same way we jest about things like “military intelligence,” except in this case, it is much truer than one would like.

Let’s finish this tangent because I am not here to speak of the many missteps DOGE has already taken or laugh at the many mistakes the pubescent wanna-be MAGA Chud workers DOGE has hired have made. And let’s be honest, these mistakes are no laughing matter.

No, I am here as a concerned citizen with a little bit of knowledge of how government clearances work, wondering how in the heck did so many DOGE workers get clearances so quickly. First, please understand that clearances are not a trivial matter. There is an army of men and women who work very diligently to ensure the clearances granted to government workers and contractors are not only in line with the work they are doing, but to also keep a crap-ton of information safe. And I want to add that just because you have a certain level of clearance, it does not mean you have access to “all the information.” Access to information is granted on a “need to know” basis. Second, depending on the agency and in some cases, the type of clearance, it can take months for the clearance process to run its course.

To review, clearances are not granted overnight. And just because you have a clearance, you do not necessarily have access to even confidential or protected information. And yet, in the case of DOGE, this seems to be exactly the case. Because they do have clearances right…

Speaking of someone with experience in such matters, I am confounded by why any DOGE employee (with or without a clearance) needs to see so much protected data and information. You find fraud by looking at budgets and expenditures, not farming secrets the US wants to keep from other countries. You look for efficiencies by looking at processes and practices, not by accessing people’s medical records. Again, I must reiterate that access to information is granted on a “need to know” basis. So why?

So now it’s broken record time. For the younger readers, a “broken record” alludes to a vinyl record that skips, playing the same section over and over again. I am assuming that at a minimum, DOGE workers have clearances. Perhaps DOGE has somehow streamlined the clearance process – at least for themselves. But it is hard for me to fathom why -even with clearances – they claim they need access to classified and private information, the release of which can invoke any number of privacy or security laws. This should be worrisome to every American, regardless of party affiliation.

I try to stay away from politics in my little cubby hole tucked away in the corner of the interwebs, but there is genuine concern because there is something nefarious going on here…

I am Autistic and You Don’t Get Any

Jamoosh

It seems that for every fifty posts I compose maybe one gets published. There are some good reasons for this, including that writing can be therapeutic and sometimes putting pen to paper, or in this case, fingers to keyboard, is freedom in itself even though the publish button did not get clicked. There are also some not so good reasons posts end up in the virtual trash can, including the climate we live in, which is also why comments are disabled on most posts. There are also a number of draft posts that are abandoned without finding the trash can and I was recently combing through them and found this. I thought I should finish it up and here we are.

In 2019 I started seeing a therapist for the first time. An event drove me over the edge and I felt that was my best recourse. A few months into my therapy, I related a story to my therapist and he suggested an Autism test. I guess I passed…

But let’s back up shall we. In third grade I saw a speech therapist for several months because I stuttered. Diagnosis: my mouth could not keep up with my brain (uh, think slower was the advice?). This was the first time there was an opportunity for someone to identify there might be something different about me. And there would be other points in my life where health professionals, including those of the mental health order, had the opportunity to push further and perhaps see that I was not the perfectly formed human being I believed I was supposed to be.

But then 2013 rolled around. It was my first physical after my divorce and a new doctor to boot. I filled out the forms the same way I had been filling them out year after year, including checking the boxes for: Do you feel anxious (Yes)? Do you feel stressed (Yes)? Do you get nervous (Yes)? And this new doctor wanted to have a conversation about the boxes I checked. To be honest, up to that point I didn’t think anybody really looked at that stuff. But here we were having a conversation about the boxes I checked and me getting a recommendation to see a mental health professional. Verdict – anxiety.

That certainly explains a lot. Quite a lot. Did I jump right into therapy to sort things out? I did not. Not only was I diagnosed as neurodivergent later in life; I opted not to start my journey until six years later. Because I am a dumbass. Or, I bought into the bullshit that has permeated our culture since the beginning of time. Therapy is for wimps and bored housewives. And masking is so much easier when you know why. Which… Well yeah, that’s stupid.

Regardless, here we are. If I thought anxiety explained a lot about me, I would have to say I was a bit wrong about that because Autism explains much more about me and anxiety is only a component of that. So, what are we working with here:

  • Anxiety
  • Noise Sensitivity
  • Social Difficulty
  • Poor Eye Contact
  • Motor Functions

Learning about my brand of autism has been a series of holy shit moments. It is actually a relief to understand why, when for over sixty years I secretly felt I was broken. Nope, not broken; I just have a different set of challenges than other people.

For the last five years I have been on a different journey that includes discovery, management, and figuring out who I am. The journey that is life will eventually come to an end, but the learning will always be ongoing. Learning about my personal challenges and how best to manage them while being as authentic as possible.

Song of the Cricket

Jamoosh

Recently, while working out in the pool (aqua jogging for the win), I was accompanied by a cricket that made themself at home and was dedicated in breaking out into their cricket song for all to hear.

Perhaps this was a mating call. Reaching out to other crickets to come hang out by the pool for a bit of cricket action. I don’t know if there is a cricket mating season or if crickets get their procreation on at any time it is convenient, but a mating call of sorts made sense in this situation. Especially since a number of crickets had alighted in the area. Might this be the beginnings of a cricket orgy?

Alas, I fear the answer is “no.” For the pool was littered with crickets who had drown in their pursuit of an advertised orgy or some other reason. Could it be that my cricket friend was mourning, and this was a song of lament? Their cricket mate, perhaps Carl, maybe Carla pushed into the pool by an unexpected breeze or simply over-shooting their destination and landing in a wet purgatory they could not escape. The poor cricket and their song of sorrow and loss.

Except, what if this cricket was luring their brethren to a watery death with a siren song? A song of hope designed to cull the masses in a play for superiority and increased procreation opportunities. Could it be that this was an evil cricket thinking only of themselves and the result was a mass drowning? I don’t think I will ever know because I do not speak cricket.

We Are Doing It Wrong

Jamoosh

Like just about everyone in the Houston area, I spent several days without power, internet, or cell service due to Hurricane Beryl. Unsurprisingly, with wide-spread outages that lasted days, many upon many are calling for CenterPoint, the power utility, to be held accountable for their negligence and unpreparedness.

Unfortunately, if the Chud in charge of the State of Texas and the Public Utilities Commission have the balls to hold CenterPoint accountable, it will be done in such a way that the cost is somehow passed on to rate-payers. This helps Gov. Abbott ($7.8 million in donations from energy companies since 2021) and his cronies look tough to their constituents, while keeping the pipeline of money from the energy companies flowing.

Which is bullshit. The average executive at CenterPoint makes $4 million a year with the CEO pulling in $37.8 million. Shouldn’t we be punishing the decision makers first and the company second? Let’s take a bite out of their inflated salaries and hurt them instead of the company. Because when you hurt the company, the executives don’t get hurt. Executives just use that as an excuse for layoffs, rate hikes, and the like. Because it is better to put 3000 people out of work if it preserves the paycheck an executive receives for doing their job badly. Rate-hikes are necessary because executives failed to execute and they made bad decisions.

Think of a corporation as a ship. If the ship runs into a bridge, you don’t punish the ship, you punish the captain. So maybe we start punishing the executives who are steering the corporation.

Yes, I know this is a Pollyanna position to take. It is very much un-American to hold someone accountable for their actions and their failures, especially a CEO. Additionally, it is downright illegal to take money from the rich and powerful; we are only allowed to take money from the poor, and it is likely money they don’t have to begin with. But let’s just play along and figure out how to punish CenterPoint executives so they not only know they fucked up, but now have to face the consequences:

  • 50% of the salary for any executive making over $1 million per year.
  • Requirement for all executives to fly coach (middle seat) with the rabble on all trips instead of using the company jet (this will also act as a cost savings to additionally offset any fines and it is better for the climate).
  • Headshots of each executive on public transportation vehicles and infrastructure with the caption, “You were without power for five days because of this person.”
  • Once per month, the power to each executive’s home will be randomly cut for up to 36 hours. Their generator, solar panels, and/or battery will be disconnected. This will continue for one year regardless of season and regardless of weather. An executive may not go to Cancun with Ted Cruz during said power outage.
  • And finally, the fall guy cannot be some mid-level manager. It has to be a C-level executive and oh by the way, they do not get a severance package.

Sucks to be accountable, huh?

One Mile

Jamoosh

I get one mile.

It’s early. It’s dark. It’s 40 degrees. I could choose to run in the neighborhood, but at this hour the shadows disguise debris that falls from the trees. So, I choose the waterway that is dotted with lights and is traffic free.

The mile starts off choppy. I am to be a marionette, a man governed by a string, because form is important. Unfortunately, for years I had improper form, so even though I have not run in some time, being a marionette does not come naturally. I have to work at it, I must focus.

Focus does not come easy as I must be attuned to everything around me. The sights and the sounds. A cyclist approaching; the steps of a runner behind me; the animals that linger around the water in the early hours of the morning. I was taught to always be aware, but now I must focus on my form. Thus, it takes some time to be a man governed by a string.

Once I have accomplished this I must now lean slightly forward. People who know things tell me this will help propel me effortlessly in the direction I choose. This mile is as much about people telling me everything I need to know about the mile as me running it. In fact, this whole mile, including the stated distance, is controlled by varying people with a variety of degrees who are still in a slumber while I toil physically and mentally.

Success does not come easy. I am the dancer with two left feet, so perhaps I am not a dancer at all. I push forward and eventually the correct form materializes; the man governed by a string with a slight forward lean is moving along the waterway and it occurs to me the people who know things are sometimes right. There is no pain. I look like a runner. I feel like a runner.

There is a duck. I cannot watch the duck. I must continue to focus on my form, because if the pain comes, I know my form is off. I will not quack at the duck today. I will not gaze to see if the duck dunks its head in search of food or paddles to the opposite shore. I focus on my form and the mile slowly melts away.

There are other runners on the waterway. We wave to each other as we pass under the low light of a streetlamp. A silent wave that is a language all its own. “Hey, good to see you.” “Glad you are out here.” “Hope your run is going well.” The pace and the distance does not matter, because we are out here together. It feels good to be a runner again.

The focus is strong this morning. The form holds and the mile comes to an end. I feel like I could do more, but I will stick to the plan. In time, the new form will take hold and will be second nature. Until then, I only get a mile. And I am okay with that. Because running a mile is better than not running at all.

Walking with Tom – Learning to Fly

Jamoosh

It has been a hot moment, but we are back. Today, we take flight with Learning to Fly from Into the Great Wide Open (1991).

I have a framed piece of artwork in my home-office. It is a silhouette of Tom Petty with the words “learning to fly” stamped at the top. It features three colors – blue, white and black and I often wonder if this is on purpose or merely just a coincidence. Blue for sky, white for clouds, black for the unknown – maybe? It does not matter in the overall scheme of things as it is a daily reminder that although I do not know where today will take me, it is still a journey I need to take.

That right there may sum up Learning to Fly, at least in the way that I interpret it.

Well I started out down a dirty road
Started out all alone

Simple enough, but a reminder that when it comes to personal growth, we often start the journey alone.

Well the good ol’ days may not return
And the rocks might melt and the sea may burn

This right here, well damn. A whole lot into just two sentences. Each of our lives are in constant change as is the nature of things. But outside forces want us to be static, to be what we once were, to strive to go back to a time when things may have been good. But that is a losing battle because the conditions of that place and time are different and will never be the same. Instead of trying to reclaim a moment in the past, perhaps we should instead turn our attention to understand how we can embrace the changes going on around us to create moments that matter and make this a good new day.

Well some say life will beat you down
Break your heart, steal your crown
So I’ve started out for God knows where
I guess I’ll know when I get there

I see this as a continuation of what is above. Upon reflection, I have come to learn that some negative reactions I have had are simply due to wanting things to be the same instead of taking the time to understand the what and the why behind the change so I can learn how to get the most out of it.

I’m learning to fly, but I ain’t got wings
Coming down is the hardest thing

Don’t give up. You have started the journey, now see it through.

I’m learning to fly [(learning to fly)]
Around the clouds
But what goes up [(learning to fly)]
Must come down

Each journey will come to an end, just like each day comes to an end. As mentioned above, we cannot remain static because the moment is forever changing. Take the lesson, learn from it and start anew.

This song surely resonates with me. At least in the way that I see it as an autistic person. Because I am neurodiverse my journeys may be different as I have challenges that others do not. But that does not mean I do not end up in the same place; it does not mean I do not learn the same lessons; it does not mean I don’t have my moments. What it does mean is that I have learned that I cannot stand still. Autism is not an excuse to forego the journey, but a reason to have the courage to begin the journey.

Who Am I

Jamoosh

I like to think of myself as an ordinary person, but I am not. One reason is there is no such thing as ordinary. As a society we feel like we must define things as normal, but there is not a bell curve that sums up values, beliefs, orientation, life experiences, expectations, mistakes and so on. In fact, the bell curve is likely less a curve and more a shallow, almost imperceptible, bend in an otherwise straight road.

We are programmed throughout our lives to be someone’s definition of normal, when most of us are anything but. Thus, it can be a chore to understand who you really are.

In 2013 I was diagnosed with anxiety. That is 51 years of living without understanding that I was and will always be neurodiverse. For 51 years I was masking; often passing myself off as something I am not; trying to conform to the definition of normal.

Think of that for a moment… 51 years, plus ten more, of doing things because that is what a normal person was/is expected to do. My actions and emotions governed more by what I thought people expected of me than how I really felt.

When I asked myself this morning, “who am I,” I have to say I am not sure. I waver. Am I really this person or is it just a persona? How many different personas do I have? Which of those personas is real and which ones are just masking?

It is a tad frustrating.

Here are some things I do know:

  • I like projects and building things as long as they go at my pace. If progress slows, my interest wanes.
  • I think trees are cool although I cannot not reliably point out what species is what.
  • I love listening to music. Just sitting and listening to music. But only if it is without interruption.
  • I write a lot more than I publish. The online culture today makes me wary of having an opinion or a thought.

That is not a lot, and it certainly doesn’t sum up a person. But it is a start of a journey where I hope to discover what my normal is.

Walking with Tom – Refugee

Jamoosh

This is where it started for me with Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. When I heard Refugee on the radio way back when, I immediately wanted the whole album. I talked about Louisiana Rain in an earlier post, but Refugee has always been the anchor of Damn the Torpedoes. I can talk about that album for hours, so let’s just get into it shall we.

Somewhere, somehow, somebody must have kicked you around some…

I could make an argument this should be the opening line of the song. But upon reflection, I understand this was a look back. The great thing about this line is that it can be what you want it to be. Is it about physical abuse, emotional abuse, or something else altogehter? For me, it was about emotional abandonment, which Tom sort of sums up in the line that follows:

Tell me why you want to lay there, revel in your abandon…

The word “abandon” really hit home because at that point in my life I felt I had been abandoned. Additionally, this conveys the thought that people often choose to stay in a bad situation because it is what they know; it is what they are comfortable with. Which is an awful place to be.

Later in the song, Tom captures the same feeling, but in a different way:

Somewhere, somehow, somebody must have kicked you around some
Who knows maybe you were kidnapped, tied up
Taken away and held for ransom

Again, for me, Tom walks the fine line between physical and mental. I think a challenge that many folks have is we look to the physical first because it is something we can see and understand. But this passage can just as easily be about the mental side of things. Anxiety, depression and other mental conditions can kidnap your brain and hold you hostage.

But throughout the song, Tom does offer hope:

Honey, it don’t really matter to me, baby
Everybody’s had to fight to be free, you see

This is super important on multiple levels. First, I always wonder if there is a person out there for me that feels this way. Second, and probably most importantly, Tom is conveying empathy versus sympathy. Sympathy will not sustain a relationship, but empathy will sustain lives.

And finally,

Don’t have to live like a refugee
(Don’t have to live like a refugee)
No you don’t have to live like a refugee
(Don’t have to live like a refugee)
You don’t have to live like a refugee
(Don’t have to live like a refugee)

And there it is. That bit of hope that can apply to nearly any situation. You don’t have to live like a refugee. If you have anxiety, you do not have to be a prisoner. There are people who empathize and can help. There is therapy and other treatments. It is up to you to determine whether you want to live like a refugee or not.

Walking With Tom: Straight into Darkness

Jamoosh

In 1982 Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers released Long After Dark. I really loved that album and as wild as it seems, there are multiple songs I could choose from that album that would fit right into my life during the next year or so. In the Fall of 1982 at the “tender” age of 20 I had my first girlfriend. Folks who deal with anxiety are not likely surprised I was a late bloomer, so to speak.

Things were great right up until I came home one day to find all of her stuff gone, along with her of course.

There was a little girl, I used to know her
I still think about her time to time
There was a moment when I really loved her
Then one day the feeling just died

That is pretty much the naked truth right there. No hidden or deep meanings I am striving for, just an unadulterated life moment. For when I caught up to her a week or so later, her words to me were, I don’t love you; I never loved you; I was just using you.

Well then…

Straight into darkness
Out over the line
Yeah straight into darkness
Straight into night

Darkness can mean different things. It can be a place you go or are sent. It can be the unknown. It can be both. In the darkness you cannot see shadows and it can be a very scary place.

I was young and naive and that surely sucked. To have anxiety and to be in a relationship means there is an overwhelming amount of trust – or at least hope. And when that is shattered it is not only hard, but it also puts a few extra bricks in the wall that the next person will have to get through. And for me, that is what this darkness is about. It’s about immediately adding to the wall, making it bigger and thicker to protect from the unknown; to protect from the shadows that you cannot see because of how dark it is. It is a place I was sent and as long as I am there, I need that wall to protect me.

But even someone with anxiety can be resilient.

I don’t believe the good times are over
I don’t believe the thrill is all gone
Real love is a man’s salvation
The weak ones fall, the strong carry on

Yes, it may take longer, perhaps even years, but eventually we can get back up.

For the record, during this life moment two other songs from the Long After Dark album came to mind before this one took hold. The first was: You Got Lucky. As in, “you got lucky babe, when I found you.” This has a great video, but it is a little presumptuous as it paints me as a gift; a gift she threw away. And let’s face it, I was less a gift and more a proxy or tool for some other purpose.

The other song was Change of Heart. “You never needed me – You only wanted me around – It gets me down – There’s been a change – Yeah there’s been a change of heart.” The song is a real stinger, but… It feels like one of those things that comes to mind after the fact and you think “doh, if I had only said that in the moment.”

So here we are with Straight into Darkness, because that is where my first attempt at love took me. There will always be a few extra bricks because of my time in the darkness, but every now and again, someone comes along who doesn’t mind putting in the extra work of dismantling the wall.

Walking with Tom: Saving Grace

Jamoosh

There is a highway interchange that I drove multiple times a week over the course of six or so months. Each time I approached this particular interchange, my grip on the wheel would tighten. Closing in on the interchange where drivers are making last second decisions; praying to an unknown god they have chosen the appropriate lane to be in. I know the lane I need to be in; I have been in the lane I need to be in. My knee is shaking uncontrollably. In the midst of the interchange chaos ensues as some drivers continue to jockey for their lane; others are looking for the fastest way out of there; and still others are apparently lost. I feel like I am going to poop my pants. The color in my hands reveals I have a death grip on the steering wheel. Through the interchange safely. A deep breath and a sigh of relief. I feel light-headed as my grip relaxes and the shaking stops. Maybe it will be better tomorrow. It will not be better tomorrow…

Anxiety is a multiplier. Stir in even a little anxiety and something simple invariably becomes a chore. Stir in a lot of anxiety and it becomes something you want to avoid.

I’m passing sleeping cities
Fading by degrees

These are the opening lines to Tom Petty’s Saving Grace (from Highway Companion). Damn, if there ever was an opening line written specifically for me, there you have it. I do not, or more specifically, my anxiety does not, like traffic. I am the person on the road before most people consider getting out of bed. I am the road-tripper who purposefully slinks through a city at 3:00 AM, like a shadow that was never there. Those are my times; little to no traffic and music on the radio keeping me awake and alert.

This is what this song evokes. It’s a rockabilly tune that is built for driving across wide-open spaces or slipping through towns under the cover of darkness. But like any Petty song, there is more to it than that.

And it’s hard to say
Who you are these days
But you run on anyway
Don’t you, baby?
You keep running for another place
To find that saving grace

Sometimes when I hear this, I feel like Tom is calling me out. That maybe Tom has insight to my secret. Until recently, nobody outside of me and a doctor knew I suffer from anxiety. For me, in the before days and even now, each new town or each new location is a chance to start over or reinvent myself – if only for a day or a night. But in the end, it never sticks, because we are who we are.

The song, in its whole, reminds us of that. There is this sense of a weary traveler on autopilot. However, this person is also painfully aware of who or what he or she is. They know the latest facade will only last so long. But they carry on searching for something that cannot be.