... it's time to get the locks trimmed

It's been six weeks since I last had my some-shade-of-dark-blond hair cut. So tomorrow I'm off to get them trimmed.

In the past year, my locks have been shaved, grown, bleached, and blow dried. I'm amazed they still insist on bursting out from the follicles in such a constant manner.

But they have started to grow, they look relatively healthy and I've decided to let them stay that way.

During my last visit, the hair stylist guy asked me, "Just how grey are you?"

Mmmmm, not very, just starting actually, except for the back by my neck where they seem to spring out in full force, like an alien attack on earth.

I think he asked because my hair has changed color so many times that I don't even really know what my natural color is. My mother has golden blond locks, my father has mousy brown. So I guess that means I'm somewhere in between - a color much like the gunk that gets stuck in the plug hole of your kitchen sink when your garbage disposal isn't working.

Nice. Attractive. Paint it hair stylist guy. Make it look natural by doing something fake to it. Go on, make my hair look good. I double dare you.

... my sister gets her heart broken

It happens to all of us. Eventually that fire sorta fizzles out.

My kid sister - I say 'kid sister but she's turning 22 in September, but she will always be my kid sister - has been dating this guy for almost two years. Hell, they were even living together. Her facebook status would read like some soft and drippy romance novel, but in text language:

"I luv my boi so mch i cud scrm!"

"Cnt wait 4 my man 2 cme hme."

And now, the fire has died down to a fizzle. I don't know all the details suffice to say that this was her first serious, SERIOUS boyfriend. She would talk about them maybe getting married, she was naming their kids, the whole shebang.

But as I kept tried to tell her - as overly-protective big brothers tend to do - he is a young guy. Hell, he's a year younger than she is. What 20-year old guy wants to settle down? But she had her own lessons to learn.

Poor girl, her heart is broken, she's lost her first love. And as her overly-protective big brother, I want to hop across the pond and give that snotty-nosed, pimple face twat a hiding for hurting my kid sister.

I need to take her somewhere to get her mind off of it. But then again, I know from personal experience, sometimes we need time to wallow in what was and is now no more. We need to experience the hurt and pain and the tears of love lost in order to better appreciate potential love that lies ahead.

Go forth, my brave young kid sister and leave your mark on the world. But do not be heartless. There is love out there, and it will find you when you're ready.

... it's all about the 'H' word

'H' as in HAPPY.

And many things make me happy. For example, when the leaves start turning at the end of summer and the ground is covered in golds and yellows and oranges and reds. Or seeing a photo from the latest group of photos sent to me from my sister of my niece.

It makes me happy to see old couples walking hand-in-hand because it restores my faith in hope.

When I make someone smile, or laugh, it makes me happy knowing that I have brought some happiness to them.

Or hearing the excitement in my sister's voice when I make a random trans-Atlantic phone call, just to say 'hi'.

Getting a B in college made me happy because I had worked my tail off to get that grade.

It's the little things that make me happy, but sometimes, just sometimes, that's not enough. But someone recently told me that unless I was happy, I couldn't make others happy.

I'm far from perfect, and I'm happy with that. I make the most of what I have, and I'm happy with that. But to be happier, I need to sit, meditate, and work out what makes me happy again. It's time to start sharing some of the 'H'.

... it's time for change

Seriously, I could have not said it better myself!

Lots of shit going on in my life right now - people coming in, people going out. And I'm on the hunt for a new abode. Yes, once again it's time for me to pack my boxes, fold up my towels and move. I'll be trying to stay in Pittsburgh though, just a different neighborhood.

A friend recently told me about a friend of hers who sometimes has room mates. The rent would be reasonable but the area sounds a little sketchy - on top of the South Side slopes. But who cares what people think, right? If this guy is looking, then I too shall go look.

Speaking of looking, the job search is still going. Pittsburgh is a tiny town - I received a text from an ex work colleague today. She mentioned a friend of hers had told her that she had received my resume for a position they have as a Marketing Assistant.

"TELL HER HOW WONDERFUL I AM," I belted out.

And that is precisely what she will be doing over drinks tonight.

... I was never just like everyone else

When I was a kid, my Dad used to take us to a guest farm every year. My sister, the social butterfly, would stay around the farm and play with the other kids while I would pack a thicker shirt and go exploring. I'd take walks that would last for hours, walks down the sandy path past the tuck shop and past the gate, down the side path and all the way to the waterfall.

I'd be gone for hours on end.

I'd wake up early in the mornings, when it was still foggy outside, and would make my way to the milking sheds. I'd try again and again to milk the cows properly without hurting them and sometimes I succeeded. The farm hand would sometimes pull on a teat and squirt it at me. The milk was sweet and warm, and later all the guests would sit at the tables to devour breakfast. Eggs, bacon, toast, or Corn Flakes and fresh milk.

Often I would walk through the horse pen, petting them. Once I was bitten by two horse flies - in the same spot on my gangly body.

I remember once taking a stroll to the pig pen to take photos, but I had a new cheap camera I didn't know how to use. So I snapped away and took photos the whole day, and when we had all piled back into the car and headed back to the coast, I had my photos developed. The photos I had taken at the pig pen looked unusual. Each them featured a big pinky orange ear with a tree in the background. I remember being angry but I thought to myself, "Next time, turn the camera around!"

Does this post have a moral to the story though? Yes, I'd like to think it does. There are times when I like to be a recluse and disappear from the world - and just for a short while live in my own world. A perfect world where things were good. Where I didn't have to impress people and I don't always have to wear a smile and sometimes, just sometimes, I felt a sense of confidence. It was MY world, and I was the king.

... I get told I lack ambition

Quick question: what exactly is ambition? Is it that thing you feel and do in order to achieve a goal? That's what I think it is.

"Ah, that John Smith, he's an ambitious fellow, he's going to go far."

That sounds about right to me.

Well, this past weekend I was told I have no ambition because I sit on my ass and claim unemployment. Because I've only applied for about 25 jobs since February. Does that mean I lack ambition? Does it mean I have given up on my hopes and dreams and goal of teaching? Personally, I feel as though the 'pause' button has been pushed and am I so tired of working and striving and working and running and moving. So right now, that 'pause' button is my friend. It helps me stop, relax and reflect. Reflect on what I've done and what I need to do to move forward.

If we don't stop to smell the flowers every now and then, if we are constantly striving to fulfill that ambition every waking moment of our lives since we could only just stand up without plopping back down on our toddler asses, then what's the point? Life is already so busy and so fast. I happen to like the break I now have. And when I feel it's time to stop lying out on the grass while soaking up the sun's rays, then, and only then, will I get up, dust off my jeans, and peer off down Goal Avenue.

Until then, back off and let me reflect.

Surf's up.

... I embellish my resume. But just a little.

After months of sleeping in until 3pm each day, I've decided I need to pull finger and start making a contribution to society again. Wake up early in the morning at 9am, drag my tired carcass into a work environment, and make a monthly pay check.

But in order to put myself out there, I need to stand out from the thousands and hundreds of other resumes passing the recruiter's desk.

Maybe I could do it in my cover letter. Would it make me sound more intelligent to start with the word ‘dude’, even if the recruiter is a female? ‘Dude, I used to work as Nelson Mandela's military advisor.’ ‘Dude, my first solo surgery was an endoscopic thoracic sympathectomy.’ Or ‘Dude, I was so stoked to be nominated for the Nobel Prize."

Or maybe I could boast about my athletic prowess. My power in rugby, or my agility in in high jump. I used to play a lot of sports back in high school. Then I realized you can buy trophies. Now I’m good at everything. That would definitely stand out in my resume under "Achievements".

Under the "Education'' section, I could accent the fact that I attended an all-boys high school, with the sons of doctors and diplomats as my classmates. I could also highlight the fact that I went to college for only two years. That should make them wonder if my intelligence is so off-the-chart that I breezed through four years of college in just two. Brilliant!

But nowadays, employers want to know about your work experience and experts say you should tailor-make each resume to the job you're applying for. So I found a job on craigslist I'd be perfect for and tailored my resume as such:

Work Experience
March 2009 - June 2009
White House Budget Director, United States Government
Reason for leaving: I became overwhelmed by the new Health Care Reform policy

March 2006 - February 2009
Middle East Peace Negotiator, United Nations
Reason for leaving: It took me three years to realize it was all pointless

January 2001 - February 2006
Nuclear Physics Professor Emeritus, Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT)
Reason for leaving: Wanted to trade in my ability to make bombs to promote peace in the Middle East

November 1998 - December 2000
Director of Space Systems Operations, United States Airforce
Reason for leaving: Decided to retire my stripes for the world of academia

April 1996 - October 1998
Assistant Waiter, TGIFridays
Reason for leaving: Accepted the opportunity to join the professional workforce

The position I'll be applying for is as a Mail Clerk with an auto body shop.

Then, of course, you also need to supply verifiable references. That shouldn't be too difficult. Here are mine:

Hillary Rodham Clinton
Secretary of State, United States Government
E-mail: h.clinton@state.gov

Nelson Mandela
Former President of South Africa
E-mail: nmandela@apartheidsucks.co.za

Mahmoud Abbas
President of the Palestinian Authority
E-mail: mahmoud@byebyeisrael.org

Johnny Coleman
Shift Supervisor, TGIFridays
johnny_the_boss@gmail.com

... it rained. And rained. And rained.

The book of Genesis tells a little story of a little man who built a huge boat at God's command.

The story goes that God planned to send a great flood to destroy the Earth. However, before doing so he instructed Noah to build a large ark, and ordered him to retreat into it along with his family and a representation of the world's animals. God then sent rain for 40 days and nights, which caused the waters to rise so that with the exception of those inside the Ark, all of creation was extinguished. It was then that the story says, "God remembered Noah." The waters abated and dry land reappeared. When Noah, his family, and those animals who had been saved, left the Ark, Noah offered a sacrifice to God. The story ends with God's vow that he would never again destroy the world in this manner.

"And what on earth does this have to do with anything, young writer?", you ask.

Well, last night, here in Pittsburgh, the rain came down. Scratch that. It pelted down. Cats, dogs, the occasional horse. It was pouring off the roof, much like a waterfall - because the gutters are blocked with leaves from the neighbor's tree, but I digress.

It rained, yes. And poured. And then again today, it started. Is God going back on Her word not to wipe us out again? Is it perhaps time to build another large boat? Hey, since I'm no longer working, maybe I have just found a new project. But since my back yard is not big enough to build a boat 300 cubits long, 50 cubits wide, and 30 cubits high and built of Gopher wood, I'll find some design plans to build a canoe.

... I said goodbye to my cat

Today, I dropped off one of my cats at her new house.

Now before you freak out and wonder if I'm a crazy cat person, let me explain. I have, or HAD, two cats. The fluffy one, and the pedigree. But since the two other cats in the cats attack her and she pees on the floor and craps on dirty laundry, we had to find her a new home. So find her a new home I did.

She is now living with a gay man and his room mate, "fatso", an ex Hooters waitress. I'll definitely miss her, but not the peeing on the hardwood floor and the crapping on the sheet that's been lying on the floor for a week.

But at least I know she went to a good home and not a pitt bull breeding ring on the outskirts of Pittsburgh, or the testing lab at GlaxoSmithKline just up the road.

I'll miss you, Fallon. Yes, I named my cat after a Minneapolis-based ad agency. Got a problem with that??

... I avoid all possible crude metaphors

I have a truly marvelous cat. That's not egotistical babble. It's the truth. And he's also bloody beautiful. Just look at the pic above. And you can use his tail as a duster. It's great.

So yesterday I took my young fluffy feline to Pet Stop, a tiny little pet grooming place (which also doubles as a photography studio should you have the ugly urge to have your pooch photographed) here in Pittsburgh. Now since my cat is so very fluffy and it is summer up here in the United States of Arrogance, I decided to take my cat in to have all his hair removed (insert crude metaphor here).

The lovely dame at the grooming shop refused to shave the young feline - something about how his fur keeps him cool and cats having super thin skin so he might get cut.

"But pet fur-cutting lady, my furry boy cat here is starting to mat under his belly. See?"

"Yes, but I shall simply brush those out."

"You are truly remarkable. And if I hear him yelp or scream in pain, have no doubt that I shall fly over this counter and feed your hand to your mouth."

The young puss did not get shaved. He was brushed through so that his "undercoat was thinned out" and his super large cat claws were trimmed. Good because I don't like doing that.

And to think she wanted to bathe my young fluff beast as well!

... America has a birthday. Again.

Hip Hip Hooray. It's that one day in the year that happens every year. Annually. And America has been having its Hip Hip Hooray since 1776 when they decided to give King George the finger. And how do they do that? By drinking beer and setting off fireworks.

Kaboom. And Hip Hip Hooray, America!