Woody Cavenaugh

Before I happily go into detail about my own epee exploits, I need to take some time out to brag on my teammates. All but me used the morning's open event as a warm up. If you are an "E" or "unrated" you really can't expect to do more with most opens sporting fencers with ratings of "C" and above. All but one made the 80% cutoff and got to fence at least a single Direct Elimination bout. Perfect Tommy, of course, had to go on to take third. He learned last year from earning his "D" rating time and time again only to lose it because the tournament wasn't run properly that even if the tournament is run well, it helps to be redundant. In this case, he earned his "D" last week at a well run sanctioned event, and just to make sure, he earned his "D" again this weekend at another well run sanctioned event. I think this "D" will finally stick.

In the "E" and under we fielded three "E" fencers and three unrated fencers. Everyone made the 80% cutoff and everyone had a good time. Even Henri "The Great", who even though she felt she had the upper hand over us and her own body, found that she didn't have a leg to stand on. There is a lesson here for everyone. If you are having ankle problems and you practice three nights a week, and compete every weekend, and choose not to wear an ankle brace or even supportive shoes, you can expect your ankle to fail you just when you need it the most. That goes double if you are a nurse. I think an intervention is in order. Infact, I am pretty sure a coach can withdraw a fencer on their behalf, and don't think we won't do it either! Ankle brace now, invest in high top fencing shoes as soon as you can. This is non-negotiable.

Ok, now that I have made myself perfectly clear to our resident "belle", I can brag on everyone else. Everyone else rocked! Granted those in the club with "E" ratings always think they should do better than they do. The error is in the system not the fencer. Let me explain:

The fencing rating system is based on the number of fencers and the number of ratings and the placement of the ratings at the end of the tournament. An event can be rated one thing at the start and end with a lower rating if the higher rated ones do not place well. The minimum number of fencers necessary to have a rated event is six. Six unrated fencers at a sanctioned event can gain an "E" rating. You can also earn an E rating in much larger events with higher rated fencers if those higher rated fencers place at the top and you also place well. Looking at the USFA classification chart, a group B3 tournament is one that has 64 or more fencers. 24 of them have to be at minimum "C" rating, and another 12 minimum "D" (or higher). So if of the 64 fencers at least 36 of them are D or higher AND four "C"s finish in the top 8 and 4 "D"s (or higher) place in the top 12, THEN places 1-4 earn a "B", places 5-8 earn a "C", places 9-16 earn a "D" and places 17-32 earn an "E". So to get an "E" rating from unrated you can take first in an event with an minimum of 6 fencers, or you can earn 32 out of 64 with the stipulations above. It doesn't take a fencer or a mathamatician to realize that one of those is much easier than the other.

Most of our "E" rated crowd, earned "E" ratings in small events. They are an "E" but they are not equal to the "E" that one would have earned at a higher level tournament. Therefore, they should expect to go out and earn their "D" ratings, or even repeat their "E" results when they go to an event with a whole bunch of fencers. Life just doesn't work that way. But what can one coach do to manage expectations. They're like children. Except for the kids, they are more grown up about these things. But I have degressed a bunch.

This blog is about ME!
(Half of the people reading this just clicked their "back" buttons.)

My philosophy of fencing is that I want to make friends, hang out, and and have a good time. I know what my fitness level is like. I know I am going to have to actually work at heat management. At the E and under epee event I had the best day ever. I won two of my bouts and lost two of my bouts and came in at positive 2 for my indicator. This put me in 3rd place in the pool out of 5, and should land me in the middle of the pack going into direct elimination.
As I see it, the people who came out to "win" will shake out near the top, the newbies will fall out at the bottom and the people having a good time are in the middle.

In direct elimination I landed 11th out of 25. This is a nice spot for me. No pressure. All I have to do is have fun and see how far it takes me. As it happens, when you dump the bottom 20% and throw it up on a bracket I ended up with a bye. Had there been a fencer there, it would have been an easy win for me the way the bracket works. So my reward is I don't have to beat up on someone at the bottom. Their reward is they don't have to get embarassed by a fencer who clearly outclasses them. It doesn't do any good because the higher fencer is so much better they can't even learn from their bout. They won't know what hit them. For me, practically speaking, it meant I had more time to work on carbing up and cooling down.

The downside was that my next bout would be a tough one, going by the numbers. I am 11th, facing the guy who placed 6th. The odds are against me, but winning was never my goal anyway, so the onus is really on the other guy. I just have to have fun, he actually has to win. That doesn't mean I am going to roll over. I am going to fence him well. Chances are it will be close enough that I will be able to gain experience from the bout. In this case I did. Perfect Tommy had my back coaching me, and I have to admit, his coaching made me smile. We have very different goals and my goals are so alien to him that he cannot comprehend. It is always good however to have a fresh set of eyes on the situation. I want to have fun first, but I want to improve too.

It is here I should describe "Woody's rule of direct elimination". Woody's rule of direct elimination states that if this bout is close, the winner of this one is going to lose the next one. The closer the final score the worse the next defeat is going to be. So when the score ended up 15-12, (me losing) I could smile shake his hand, and think "goodbye" to myself. If you are 6th and the 11th place guy scores 12 touches on you, you're not long for this tournament. Such was the case in his very next bout when he lost 13-15. Had I lost to him 14-15 his next bout would have been a lose by five or more touches. I dread the day I win a DE bout 14-15. That means my next bout is going to be more about damage control of my pride than having fun. A 15-12 loss is hellova fun, a 15-9 loss is me getting my pudgy butt handed to me on a silver platter with a side of fois gras. Not a lot of laughs.

So to recap. I had a hellova good time, and was able to manage my heat issues pretty well, though it was a lot to keep up with to do so. The results looked great too! Jim Kent our winner at 11th, Henri Gales at 14th (ankle and all), myself 15th, Jordan Preuss at 16th, Sean Wiedbusch at 18th, and Nicole Agresto at 20th. Out of 25 fencers, that isn't a half bad bellcurve. I could not be more pleased for my people. Even those that thought they should have done better.

Posted by at 9:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Today I competed in foil for the first time in twelve years. That statement all by itself is enough for one blog entry, mostly because I am home now, I am out of my gear and I have eaten. Sleep calls me like a siren, and you know I love me some sirens. I started the event the way I start all events lately, with an open mind and an eye for having fun. What have I got to lose anyway? I met some good people, hung out with some great people, and got off of my tubby ass for a day. I figure my fencing friends are going to need a moment to grok the concept of me fencing foil. I'm too tired to wait, so they are just going to have to stop reading, come to peace with the facts and start reading again. I would suggest from the beginning. That siren thing, was pretty good.

My first and only opponent today was the heat. 30 seconds into my first bout I was overcome with outrageous temperature control issues. I could not cool off. Needless to say, when all of my thought and effort is trying to drop my core temperature, my actual fencing against the humans suffered. I won two, I lost two and came out with a -1 indicator. Not bad for someone was was red faced, panting and sweating as though dunked. My personal health care specialist Henri was on site and she quickly turned my towel into a wet towel for the purposes of cooling off. I placed the towel alternating between the top of my head and the back of my neck. My referee, was helpful, he reminded me that the damp towel could damage my lame. Great advice as no matter what, I am still sturdier than the metalic woven vest one must wear for foil competition.

After Blades at the Beach where I was in serious danger from heat related illness, I became quite the expert on my own nutrition, hydration, and cooling strategies. Still, the odds are against me. In Mechwarrior, when you overheat you can dump your coolant for a quick fix. The best a person can do is pee, and all available liquid was already being pumped through my skin. Once on the surface it was trapped under t-shirt, underarm protector, knickers, jacket, lame, glove, and mask. Still sweating was better than the alternative.

Between pools and direct elimination I went outside and was able to start making headway against my core temperature. When the dust settled, I ended up right where I wanted to be, in the middle. Get a bout with someone as good as you are, fence really well, have a good close bout, lose and go home. Reality used to be a friend of mine. Three out of the eleven of us in the event tied at sixth place. This meant that I had to fence the tenth place person. He is a really cool guy I wouldn't mind hanging out with outside of fencing. He fought hard and gave me a heck of a bout, but in the end even with my critical meltdown issue, I had twelve years of watching other people fence behind me and I won based on being able to adapt faster than he could.

After this direct elimination bout, I had ten minutes to rest up before the next one. I spent my time outside sucking wind and hoping I didn't vomit. My next direct elimination bout introduced the instant cold pack to my repitoir. (I spelled that all by myself by the way)

If heat had not been an issue, I would have won that bout. As it was, I cheered her touches as much as she cheered her own touches and begged her to finish me. I didn't give up, I didn't give in, I just asked that she step it up and fence harder for her win. When I was finally able to shed my layers of choking white cloth the score was 15-12 and I didn't have to fence anymore.

I said my goodbyes, thanked the referee and the fencer, gathered up my stuff went outside in knickers and a t-shirt, put away my gear and dumped my coolant mechwarrior style, if my dumping your coolent you really mean throwing up. Foil is hot work. I spent the ride home alternating between being too hot and too cold. Now, fed, and in my underwear I feel much better.

Time for sleep. Epee is at one tomorrow, and I'm not going to end up finished in the middle by myself.

Posted by at 10:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I just read an article that puts the count of those charged up to five. It also interviews a parent of one of the football players who says that they've got it all wrong. The football team was apparently attacked by three wild eyed terrorist boys and the school should be helping the team.

I thought the school WAS helping the team. To date I have found no information leading me to believe that the team's lives have been affected in any way by the charges. (at least caused by the school) They still live on campus (those that did before), they still go to class, and the school wants to put this matter behind them. To me, that seems pretty darned helpful. The students of the school have a different idea about how things should be handled, and I have a VERY different view of how things should be handled. I admire the school who is willing to turn the other cheek on behalf of the victims. Yes, it does sound to me like this is the same as accusing the rape victim of causing the rape. But, turning the other cheek is one of the great halmarks of the Quaker religion. I also admire the students who staged a walkout. They aren't demanding blood or an eye for an eye, they are demanding an end to racial hatred. They too are better people than I. I can't demand peace, because I want justice. Let me summerize. If team ball sport playing jocks are found guilty then punish them. A lot. Cat O'nine, yardarm. And don't worry, the yardarm is long enough to hold all 15 men and a dead man's chest.

Now to the parent's theory that the three terrorist attacked 15 big strapping football players. Sure it is possible. During WWII the Japanese did their Kamakazi thing crashing planes into ships. Sucicide attacks are also popular among middle eastern fighters these days. It is possilbe that these three students may have intended to throw themselves bodily kicking and screaming into the middle of a team of football players for god and country. Wait,a minute...I think there might be a monkey trying to work his way out of my butt. Nope, just a fart. Nice theory though. If true, we can rely on our mighty court system to ferret it out and bring the true guilty to justice.

"Quaker football", isnt that a contradiction in terms?

Posted by at 9:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

This might be a piratical take on the situation, but I frown on hate crimes, as they are always based on fear and stereotypes. You fear what you do not understand, and another culture takes work to understand. Add the ironic twist of a hate crime on a Quaker college campus and my black flag flies up the mast.

For those under a rock. Three Palestinian students at Guilford college were severly beaten. The accused, three Guilford college football players, though up to 15 could have been involoved. The school, being quaker, did what one might expect. They moved the victums off campus, and promptly forgave the players. Well, that probably isn't exactly true. They are letting the accused hang out on campus, go to class and behave like normal. The reason, from their point of view, is that the accused have not been found guilty, therefore they are innocent of all charges. The victums were obviously beaten up, and therefore need to be kept away from the campus. They are clearly "guilty" of having been in a fight. While I don't agree with this, I have a high level of religious tollerance.

As for my own opinion of what should be done, tie the accused (20-year-old Michael Six, 20-year-old Michael Bates and 19-year-old Chris Barnette) to a yardarm and if guilty introduce them to the captian's daughter. I realize that they might have NFL dreams, and I don't see the problem. I understand the Bangles likes a criminal record in its team members.

Posted by at 12:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I am a friend of local film even if the filmmaker's don't always like my opinions of their work. Beth from Greensboring sent me and others an email eariler this week asking for help in getting the word out about a locally grown full length movie by Jay Thompson. My advice, go check it out. This town has enormous film making talent, go see them now before they get famous, and become tabloid fodder.

Hey all, this is Beth from Greensboring... Greensboro's Jay Thompson, a local Film director and producer has asked for my help to promote his new movie coming out this year called "The Heart of an Empire." It's a full-length motion picture which needs support to get attention, and to help Jay get the movie distributed. I did a write up for the movie on my blog at:

hoping to help his efforts, any additional promotion for his movie would be greatly appreciated. Jay has a blog, and more information on the film's official site:

Jay's a good guy who I talk with on a daily basis, and would love for his movie to be a sucess. He lives and works in Greensboro, and has been working on this film for 5 years. Thanks, Beth @ Greensboring.com PS if you know anyone that can pass this along, please do.

Posted by at 11:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The PMI (Project Management Institute) has taught me that a simple lie is much better than a complete truth. I suppose it should have been obvious, politics has been teaching us this for years. Truth? You can't handle the truth? Politicians only get into trouble when their lies start to get so complex they start to resemble truth, then they get into trouble.

So for anyone out there thinking of becomming a certified project manager with the project management institute I would recommend you create a simple lie about your past experience.

For instance, they didn't blink when I told them I spent 10 years working with Lyndono, and the past seven years with Virgin Intergalactic leading the Firefly class freighter project.

Maybe I should run for political office or something. Clearly I am qualified.

Nah. I can't do it. For one it isn't the Banzai way. And for two, I believe in an afterlife. I'd hate to screw that up. On the other hand, I'm going to be pretty pissed off if I find out that this was it, and I wasted so many opporunities because I was fretting over an immortal soul.

I'm not taking any chances. I don't care how many opportunities at career, wanton sex, and wealth I miss out on. In your face PMI!

Posted by at 8:16 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

It started with a Banzai Institute patch. Ok, it started with a cup of coffee. Actually, it started with me waking up in a blind panic. The sun was shining, I didn't know what time it was and I had to be at Cameron's house by 9am. As it turned out, the time was a quarter til eight, so as long as I didn't waste time, I would make it just fine.

And it wasn't the first cup of coffee it was the second. The first I drank on the way to Cameron's house. The second I sipped as I set up my computer in anticipation of some serious writing. As it happened, the fencing division had other plans, I was summerily summoned to appear before them. My quiet morning of creation ruined, I did the only thing I could do and appear before them to do what I can. I have no idea what they call it, but for the sake of my ego, I prefer calling it "magic".

Later we arrived at Raleigh Fencing Club for a 1pm epee tournament. It was the second event of the day and like the first the turnout far exceeded the expectation. By this point, I had missed lunch, breakfast, and dinner the night before. My food intake for the day included a danish, a package of peanuts and two cups of coffee. Fortunately for me I had no expectations for the day anyway. I pretty much came out to hang out with friends and if lucky burn a few caleries before dinner and beer. I never did get that beer.

Henri had had a good morning, apart from the ankle giving her trouble. I found her propped under an icepack in the care of a full third of the men in the room. Henri is nothing if not resourceful. I did my part by giving her my instant ice pack. It was only fair, she had given it to me months ago when I nearly killed myself at my first tournament of the twenty first century back in July.

I had brought all my jacket patches, and I thought it would be fun to have Henri choose what I would wear. For the past several weeks I had three pirate patches on my jacket. She saw them, and thought I should go with something else, least I be mistaken for a Cape Fear fencer. After much deciding between my Firefly (Wash's) patch, the pirate patches, and my Buckaroo Banzai patches, she finally settled on my Banzai Institute patch. She had no idea what it was from or what it meant, but it went a long way toward deciding my attitude for the day, I think. I will be forever thankful for that blind decision on her part.

My pool beat all expectation. Ok, to be fair, I didn't go in with any expectations. Come to think of it I didn't come in with a plan, or goals of any kind either. After winning my second bout in a row, I told some new friends sitting around me that my goal for the day was ten touches, and as I had already reached my goal for the day I could just coast until dinner time. I won one more bout before the pool was done and scored touches on everyone but one guy. (He ended up taking second.) It would take an entire other blog entry just to try to explain the amazing John Rae.

Out of 41 fencers I had come in 24th. I have always prefered the middle. Of our six fencers representing, I had come in the middle of the pack there as well. Lower middle really. I was the highest placed fencer to not get a bye in the first round so I had to fence the 41st place fencer. I had fenced him in my pool eariler, and liked him instantly. He was a guy from ECU who had only been fencing since September. During the pool as we chatted I told him what he should work on how I fence tall thin fencers as a short fat fencer(as idle chat, not in a "coaching" sort of way). He must have been listening to what I was saying because he really stepped up in the DE scoring four times the touches he scored in pools.

The DE. I should probably talk a little about my attitude and mental state during pools as well as in the DE. I would love to tell you about my witty and insightful inner dialogue, but truth be told I didn't have one. I was simply there in the moment. No one I fenced made a single move that I didn't see comming before they began it (except maybe John Rae). It was like I could see in to the future. I couldn't always change it, but I knew I was hit a second before the light went off. It must have been like what Luke Skywalker felt when he learned to use the force. It just was.
Late in the first period of my DE, Cameron managed to shatter this inner peace and my concentration was broken. R2D2 fell to the ground as it were in a beeping heap. I quickly took three retreats, a deep breath and reminded myself to ask her not to do that anymore at the break. Her offense? She channeled her inner cheerleader and cheered for me at a moment I had done something clever on strip. Regaining my focus, we each scored a touch before the break.

During the first break, Cameron was the perfect coach. She had analized my performance and the performance of my opponent and told me exactly what I needed to do to win the bout. Just as she finished her coaching I teased her about breaking my concentration with her little cheer. She teased back by telling me that she promised she wouldn't do it again...unless I won. I can't honestly say if it was her coaching, her teasing promise, or a combination of the two, but my opponent never touched me again. The final score was 15-4, and I moved on to the round of 32.

As I had already won a DE it was gravy to just be able to fence again and I had no real expectation to win. As my second DE of the day was against the fencer who came in 9th out of pools, it was probably good that I was already way beyond all expectations for the day anyway. The fencer I was facing, was thin, healthy, and fast. The fact that the score ended up like it did proved that I had by far the better coach. Comming into the bout, I had no expectation at all. He expected to win easily. His overconfidence cost him dearly. Because I could see what he was going to try before he tried it, I was happy to take what came and use it. As I said before, the foreknowledge didn't keep him from scoring, but it meant that even when he scored I wasn't surprised. The battle see-sawed each way with one never gaining more than two touches on the other. Every time I got up by one, he would throw a temper tantrium, how is this fat uncaring slob doing this to him??? Well, if he didn't know, I wasn't going to tell him. I have to admit, I really enjoyed his frusteration, but I vowed I wasn't going to be an ass, or goad him on in any way. Don't forget, I'm wearing my Banzai Institute patch, that means I hold to a higher ideal. Be cool, but be nice. This panting fat David, vs the young fit college boy Golieth battle must have been something to behold, by the third period we had gathered quite a crowd and there was much cheering after each touch. The score was 12 me to 13 him, and I slowly slid out of my zone. Had I won that bout, I would just have to fence another one with someone even better. I really felt that the guy I was fencing was better than I, score notwithstanding. He was the better athlete, I just had an advantage. As I pondered this he hit me raising the score to 12-14. With little to lose or gain at this point I went on the hero's sucicide run. He hit me square in my big round bowl of jello, a moment before I picked some lint off of his shoulder with my blade. The referee said "halt", but my opponent couldn't see the box because I was in the way and was afraid, so while I stood there patiently waiting for him to stop, he hit me an additional four times in the stomach. He stopped when some of the crowd started applauding his win. Not willing to just let him get off easy, I grabbed his blade and stabbed myself in the stomach with it another five or six times for good measure. He didn't know quite what to think until I took off my mask laughing and shook his hand graciously. I couldn't remember ever having more fun during a fencing bout, and I owed him a debt of gratitude. Not bad for my forth tournament in ten years.

After retreating to my line, saluting the fencer, referee, and cheering crowd, one of my teammates came over and scolded me for not fencing better at the end. Then another of my teammates came over and praised me for the best fencing they had ever seen out of me. C'est la vie. It was exactly the right bout at the exact right time and I was the best I had ever been before. I may as well have come in first at the olympics the way I felt.

The fencer that beat me 15-12 went on to lose his next DE 15-9.

Eventually Tommy finally got eliminated by John Rae, earning third place and a "D" rating. That meant we could finally have dinner. It was 9:30pm and I was well past starving. I ate my 20 chicken wings without hardly taking a breath. Chicken is protein, and protein was just the medicine I needed to repair my tired muscles. I would have had that beer too, if I had had a few dollars more. I earned it after all.

Posted by at 11:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

In my odd little work environment I am surrounded by eccentrics. Odd behaviors, odd styles of dress, general oddness. Trains, propeller beanies, cowboy hats, one pair of pants, bad hair, bad facial hair, rock star ego, we have everything the way only a university could. I have always gone with it, I am no saint. In my last eccentric incarnation, I wore obnioux solid colored T-shirts with stylishly casual sport coats. In my glorious past I have done poet shirts, long hair, and things best seen on the DVD version of Buckaroo Banzai.

I dropped the poet shirts when truckers started mistaking me for a crossdresser. Truckers love guys in drag apparently.

I dropped the long hair when I started coaching again at the Y. I had this weird feeling that I should be a good role model or something.

I shaved the beard out of pure vanity. The fur covered the sexy up.

The Miami Vice look while very stylish and very cool, is problematic for me because I have such a tendency to spill things, and dry cleaning is not free. It isn't that I have abandoned the coat, it is that the coats abandoned me to hard use and disrepair.

What I need is a look that clearly tells the world that my swash is buckled, and I don't give a good tinker's damn about what I had for lunch. Maybe its time to go modern pirate? Long hair, poet shirt, leather vest, and a good hat. On really bad days at work I could put lit cannon fuses in my hat that curl down by my chin. It is a fearsome look that tells everyone around me, no as a matter of fact I'm NOT going to look over their project documents.

Or if nothing else, perhaps on payday I could pick up another casual yet stylish sports coat. Or perhaps a black leather vest with a big jolly roger on the back...yeah....

Posted by at 3:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Big Oil, you know the guys who are raking in record profits while you pay over $2.00 per gallon? Besides getting a substantial portion of your pay at the pump, they get a big fat check from the government. This means you pay them TWICE! Isn't THAT cool? Unless you own stock in Exxon, I suspect the answer is an resounding HECK NO!

As you may be aware we have a brand new majority in congress and they are all looking to score some points with us Americans. This being said, we need a good big loud voice to them saying that we are tired of paying twice for the same tank of gas! We are tired of them diging up the world looking for oil. We are tired of the pollution. We know better ways of powering our cars exist, why can't we use them?

A petition has been created to give you this voice. Lets get them to make their first 100 hours memorable and not wasted. Here's How

Posted by at 12:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Thanks Mario!

Smart, adaptable, you're able to insinuate yourself into any setting and act like you were born there. Sure, sincerity and honesty aren't your strong points, but you can fake them if the need arises. You might feel a little hollow inside, but with so many friends, who cares?
What's your malfunction?

Posted by at 9:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

There is an unwritten code of men that dictates our behavior in all situations. For instance, two guys are talking about something as they walk down the hall towards the men's room. As soon as the first guy passes through the threshold of the mens room conversation ceases, mid sentence. Words may be spoken in the mens room but it is limited to toilot humor only and preferetly limited to short sentences. Once the last guy walks out of the men's room conversation picks up right where it left off, mid sentence.

Times and attitudes can change as they are want to do. Occasionally you find yourself in a position where you are surrounded by a different generation but the code remains unchanged. Its THE Code for heaven's sake!

I have spent the last week in a building filled with students as I sit in on training classes for my application. This means going to the bathroom around the "locals". They stick to the letter of the code...however they demonstraite that the code needs some serious updating.

For instance, you should NOT be talking on your cell phone while your pants are around your ankles. Just because the person you are talking to isn't in the men's room doesn't mean that you are free to talk. Perhaps this spelled out in the code yet, but it is certainly in keeping with the spirit of the code. I say again, NO you may NOT schedule appointments with your advisor while involved in the taking of the number two.

So it is said, so shall it be done. Amen.

Don't make me loudly ask you for a courtesy flush. The code is there for a reason.

Posted by at 9:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I am pleased to announce that the iwfl has announced the welcome of the Carolina Phoenix. They have risen from the ashes with a model based on distributed ownership. All for one, and one for all.

I have heard that the team deligate to the league is a force to be reckoned with in her position on the team as center.

I have also heard that they are actively seeking players for the team. If you or someone you know are female, over the age of 18, and interested in playing football, contact them at carolinaphoenix at gmail.com I have placed a link on my sidebar for the iwfl where you can keep up with rosters, schedules, outcomes, and swag. If you know ways the team might be able to raise money for equipment and league fees, please email them.

I am thinking of how to put together a superfan costume me to wear at Phoenix games that won't end up making me look like a drag queen. Rule #1 I am not going to use feathers. Not even orange and red ones.

Posted by at 10:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Unless you have never read anything I have ever written before, or have never spoken to me about politics, you already know that I am unsatisified with the job President Bush is doing. The world holds the United States to a higher standard because we are the most powerful country in the world. Thus, we hold our president to a higher standard. It isn't just me, let us not forget that Clinton was practically burned at the stake for being a man. Bush on the other hand has, to the best of our knowledge kept it in his pants, but he makes up for it by acting like an idiot monkey at every turn. But people change...

Earlier this week I was looking at a picture that the Voyager probe took from its vantage point outside of our solar system looking back at Earth. At that distance the Earth was less than a pixil across, but by some amazing stroke of luck it managed to capture us, "A mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam". I am not quoting Carl Sagan exactly but I mean to. Go here to see the image and the article about it. In case you aren't into clicking links I want to quote a part of Dr. Sagan's speech because it is an amazing revelation.

"We succeeded in taking that picture [from deep space], and, if you look at it, you see a dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever lived, lived out their lives. The aggregate of all our joys and sufferings, thousands of confident religions, ideologies and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilizations, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every hopeful child, every mother and father, every inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every superstar, every supreme leader, every saint and sinner in the history of our species, lived there on a mote of dust, suspended in a sunbeam."

Maybe it was this. Maybe it was the fact that I watched Dead Man's Chest last night. Maybe it was the box of Bojangles chicken I ate before bed. For whatever reason, last night I dreamed that I was standing in Center City Park listening to people talking about politics and war (these topics are inseparable). Then I flew, I just rose above the park, the city, the county, the state, the country, the continent, the earth. I stood there in space above our little blue world and I realized that America isn't the largest or the most powerful country in the history of man. In the entire history of man the greatest human ever was still just a human. I realized that Bush isn't a really bad president of the greatest country ever, he is an amazing Pirate King, leading a country founded on revolution, built by broken promises, and fueled by priacy. We are not a rogue nation, we are a nation of rogues, and the king of all rogues leads us.

I awoke a changed man. My approval rating of Bush grew seven sizes that day.

Posted by at 9:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Recent events have made me spend some, time eyes cast ceilingward, pondering the nature of work.

A hobby is work that you do because you enjoy it. You will get little or no compensation for this work, but the act of doing it makes your life feel more complete. My father gardens as a hobby. Most things in excess he simply gives away, but his collards he sells. The money he gets for his collards barely covers the fertilizer that grew them and goes nowhere towards the hours of labor he puts in to create his harvest. He is happy, and in this example his hobby puts food on the table, but it won't pay the bills.

A job is what you do in an attempt to keep a roof over your head. Most people have jobs. They probably don't enjoy their work, they may even hate it, but they have to do it or they will be on the streets. They probably aspire to do greater things that they feel they would enjoy but for whatever reason, lack of training, lack of certification, too old, too young, too scared, to beaten down by the man, they won't or can't follow their dream. I imagine you can think of entire industries that are filled with people doing a job.

A career is the highest form of work. This is the work you love doing that more than puts a roof over your head.
You may not be able to go out on a whim and buy an new Corvette, however you could save up for one if the Corvette was that important to you. If asked, you would probably say that you live a rich, full, and satisifying life. You have everything you need and you don't have to worry about basic human needs.

After comming up with those definitions I realized that I have two hobbies. Fencing doesn't bring in a dime, infact, it cost me money. I enjoy it, it does good things for me physically and emotionally, and it allows me give to the community. It is a warm and fuzzy rolled into a healthy lifestyle regime. Meanwhile I have my state job doing Knowledge Management. I love this work. I enjoy making connections in information figuring out how things really work and using the knowledge to help protect those who make three times (or more) my salary from themselves. Its like being a superhero, I am using my special skills to save the day. It is very rewarding. However rewarding or not, even with our combined salary, my wife and I are always exactly one paycheck from homelessness. If the car suffered a major system failure today that I couldn't fix myself, we would be down to Sara's truck, if Sara's truck suffered a majore system failure tomorrow that I couldn't fix myself, we wouldn't be able to get to work or anywhere else unless I manage to get one vehicle or the other limping again or we can find a garage who would let us pay in installments.

If I hated my work, it would be a job, if I got paid proper wages for my work it would be a career, as I love my work, but don't get paid properly for it, it is a hobby. This said, clearly something is going to have to happen somewhere if I want to rise above the one paycheck from homeless status. As I see it, I need to give up one hobby or the other for either a career, or at the very least a job that pays enough more than my hobbies to allow for a safety net.

The funny thing is, and this is clearly a failure of my own character, I don't want to give up either hobby, I want to shoehorn in a third hobby that I could dream might possibly add a little money to our lives. I am torn between being a good responsible provider, and having a full life. Its a good thing I am a Master of Bitterness.

Bitterness is the full and complete understanding that life really isn't fair and the mechanisms necessary to go on living it in spite of that fact. - Woody Cavenaugh

Posted by at 9:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Nods to KimiFox.

Posted by at 11:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

The proof be in the puddin' me puddins. Now do me fair, or dance the hempen jig with the rest o' 'em.

What kind of pirate am I? You decide!
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Oh, better far to live and die
Under the brave black flag I fly,
Then play a hypocritical part
With a pirate head and a pirate heart.
Away to the world across the seas,
Where pirates all have law degrees,
But I'll be true to the song I sing
And live and die a pirate king.

For I am a pirate king (You are, hurrah for a pirate king).
And it is, it is a glorious thing to be the Pirate King.
I am a Pirate King (You are, hurrah for a pirate king).
And it is, it is a glorious thing to be the Pirate King.
(It is, hurrah for a pirate king, hurrah for the Pirate King)

When I venture forth to seek my prey,
I crush my foes in a royal way.
The ladies yield and the ships go down,
Or is it the other way around?
But many a king in a guilded tower,
If he wants to cling to pomp and power,
Must manage somehow to get through
More dirty work than ever I do.

For I am a pirate king (You are, hurrah for a pirate king).
And it is, it is a glorious thing to be the Pirate King.
I am a Pirate King (You are, hurrah for a pirate king).
And it is, it is a glorious thing to be the Pirate King.
(It is, hurrah for a pirate king, hurrah for the Pirate King)

Posted by at 2:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)