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|Sunday, January 28th, 2007|
|OK, time to start posting again.
I know not many of you were reading when I was posting my progress on my move from Las Vegas to Alaska. Of course, I know not many of you are reading now. But, ahwell.
I stopped posting because my trip came to an abrupt halt 50 miles south of Tok, Alaska, when my car hit a patch of gravel and rolled up, then back down the mountainside three times. I survived the wreck with all bodily functions working and structural integrity intact. Needless to say, the car did not.
That was six months ago. I'm not comfortably living in Anchorage with my wife and Jack Russell Terrier.
I attended Further Confusion this month as planned, in my role as Gaming Lead. Things in Gaming either went wonderful or terrible, which makes it easy for me to know what to keep and what to fix and what to drop for next year (yes, I'm Gaming Lead again). Further Confusion was wonderful, despite non-con-related hang-ups. I made some great friends (hi, Chip!) and look forward to working with some wonderful people over the next year.
That's pretty much all I have to talk about right now. There may be more in the near future... given my posting history, there probably won't be, but, again, ahwell. I've added my contact information (Y!, AIM, and ICQ) in case anyone wants to talk... of course, I'm most always on FurryMUCK as KensterFox.
|Saturday, July 8th, 2006|
I should have expected this, really.
Traveling in the vicinity of Los Angeles, I should have known that I would be involved in a heinous traffic jam. I've been going between a dead stop and a brisk pace of 20 miles an hour for the last 15 minutes, and there's no end to the parking lot in sight.
I'd like to think that this is the last time I'll have to deal with this kind of traffic, but with San Jose, Seattle, and God-knows-what awaiting me in Canada, I know that's not terribly likely.
|Well, that wasn't bad... only 3680 to go...
I have arrived in Simi Valley, and have now had a much needed meal, gas refill, bathroom break... and change of shirt (packing a teeny little car with a lot of stuff is hard work).
I am sitting now at the Library, waiting for its opening at 10. I'm going to browse the grounds until they let me in.
|Last one to the bottom of the hill is a rotten egg!
I've just been in the adult equivalent of a soapbox derby race.
At times when traveling through hills, you go up so much by varying degrees, and then down by different degrees, and it becomes difficult to tell whether you're really heading uphill or downhill. And then there are times when it is plainly, plainly obvious. This is one of those times.
Traffic has picked up quite a bit on this stretch of I-15, and I noticed that my speed had crept up to 85 miles an hour or so. I've been trying to keep a steady 75 (just a teensy-weensy bit over the speed limit so the CHiPs will leave me alone), so when I saw my speed, I let off the gas to allow myself to slow down. I didn't.
The next five miles were very obviously downhill, and to such a degree that even without my foot on the pedal, my car maintained its 85 mph pace along with cars to the right, left, forward, and back of me. People passed me, I passed people, we're all changing lanes in front of each other and I can imagine that none of us are using our accelerators... we're all just coasting in a much bigger, much faster version of a soapbox derby.
Rather entertaining, I thought... mostly because there wasn't that wreck in Turn 3 that NASCAR is famous for.
When I began this trip, knowing that I would be going through the hills, I thought that I would be absolutely desperate for cruise control (my car doesn't even have power windows, much less cruise control). However, I'm finding that, even if I did have such a luxury, it's too much doggone fun to do things yourself over the hills. For someone who grew up in the very, very flat state of Florida, having to press your foot to the pedal so hard you think it's going to break to do 75 miles an hour one minute, and then being able to let off the gas completely and not be able to fall BACK to 75, is a very new and interesting experience... and when you're driving as much as I'm going to be, whatever keeps you on your toes is a good, good thing.
The sky is finally starting to lighten up, dawn is approaching - it's morning in America. Funny that I should mention that, a oft-quoted line of Ronald Reagan's, now, as my first destination is the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library in Simi Valley, California (about 45 miles north of LA). I just learned of its proximity a few weeks ago, and made plans to visit before I left. But, then I figured, why make two lengthy trips to California when I can combine them?
I'll give you an update further down the road.
|"There was only one road back to L. A. - U. S. Interstate 15..."
The lights of Primm Valley are now in my rearview mirror, and so, too, is the entire state of Nevada... figuratively, at least. Las Vegas was certainly a nice place to live, certainly a convenient place to live where most everything was available anytime. But, God in Heaven, I am not going to miss the desert.
Of course, if I had to live in certain places in the state I'm now crossing into, I'd be begging for the desert in no time. In some ways, California is a vast improvement over Nevada... and in some ways, it really, really isn't.
However, my time in California is only temporary, my abandonment of Nevada is permanent, and it is a rather happy moment that I am leaving the vast desert wasteland behind me. But ahead of me is another 3950 miles of road. I'll update again as soon as something else interesting happens.
|Home No More
(all of the following posts back-dated to the next ten days will be edited transcripts of my entries into my audio-journal that I will be recording as I move from Las Vegas, NV to Anchorage, AK.)
At 5370 E. Craig Rd, Apartment 1124, Las Vegas, Nevada, the lights are off, and nobody's home.
I have given up my claim on Las Vegas, hopefully Las Vegas has given up its claim on me. I am now setting out to do one of the hardest things I've ever done: drive approximately 4000 miles from my old home here down to Los Angeles, up through California, Central Oregon and Washington, and along the Alaska-Canada highway until I reach Anchorage - by myself.
I'm driving a 2005 Chevy Aveo which, under normal circumstances, would weigh approximately 2400 pounds. As of the weigh-in that I just completed, the car now weighs 3200, plus my own weight. I'm rather proud of the accomplishment of stuffing a half-ton (including me) of baggage into a compact car and still have full use of the side mirrors and most of the rear-view mirror. If this car manages to complete this trip, I'll have to consider nicknaming it "The Little Engine That Did", although, in the meantime, I have to think "The Hernia Waiting To Happen" is a bit more appropriate.
As I head further south, I'm beginning to see the lights of the Las Vegas strip. If there is anything unique about Las Vegas that I will truly and deeply miss, it is the thrill and the calming, pleasing quality of driving around the city, especially around the strip, at night, with everything (and I do mean EVERYTHING) all lit up. Of course, there will be other things I miss about the city, as well, such as the easy access to many, many conveniences and the wide variety of entertainment available, but, on the whole, I'm glad to be leaving, glad to be taking this trip, glad to be coming into this new and interesting stage of my life. Now, if only I can get there.
Anyways, that's it for now.
|Monday, March 8th, 2004|
|Because I like to tell you what I think more than I like to tell you what I'm up to.
As of today, The Fox Perspective is on LiveJournal.
Any of you who have had the misfortune to know me for a long period of time know that I had a brief stint as a fur fiction writer. I loved doing it, even though I was less than stellar and my interest fizzled out when plot ideas were harder to come by.
Any of you who have known me for any length of time at all know that I have many opinions about many different things, and I love to express them and discuss them. I've combined these two loves into foxperspective
, a running blog of my editorial essays that will be updated FAR more often than this page here. I'll be writing on just about everything, the news, religion, politics, the fur fandom, the human race in general... heck, I may even take requests. ^.^ I hope all of you enjoy the essays, even more I hope they make you think, and encourage you to discuss your own opinions with me.
As for how my life is going, I got to spend Valentine's weekend with my girlfriend, Rose, and proposed to her while I was there. We probably won't be getting married for another two years, waiting on a third party to accomplish something important (hinthintnudgenudgeBOOT, Mike). In the meantime, she's going to be keeping me from getting any sleep while running up my phone bill. Such is the nature of the beast.
Really, no other news, but I'll keep in touch. The first essay is about religion, specifically about the relationship between the Bible and the theory of evolution, but if that's not your thing, stay tuned anyway and you'll probably see something you like. Or, at least, are interested in.
Airman First Class Kenneth Wilson
|Tuesday, January 20th, 2004|
|OK, long freakin' update coming.
I have thirty minutes to write this... about five months - the most eventful five months - of my life to cover.
When I last wrote on LiveJournal, I was entering Basic Training in May, coming back from living at home, my best friend's little sister was my girlfriend (and, due to her age, distance from me, and other factors, the relationship was far from developed) and I was ready to begin a career in Air Force Intelligence as a linguist.
First thing to change was my job. Because I didn't qualify for my security clearance, I had to change jobs to a Medical Laboratory Technician. The first way that affected me was that I would not be spending the next year of my life in Monterey, California, but the next six months in Wichita Falls, Texas. Let me tell you, the difference is mind-boggling. Although I was psyched up for being in Intel, I really enjoyed the class (largely due to my instructors and classmates) and I think I'll do well in the job. Besides, I later learned that my linguist position would keep me overseas for virtually all of my career, and I didn't want that. I think this way is much better.
Second thing to change was... well, what I did with my free time. I didn't dump all of my income into Internet use, believe it or not. About a month into my tenure at Sheppard AFB (in Texas), I started playing Dungeons and Dragons on the weekends. ALL weekend. Our DM was incredible, and I've never seen his equal since. The other players were mostly great, too. Especially a hobbit by the name of Lina Padfoot. Although she started out our adventure in the companionship of our party's Bard (and a pretty incompetent one at that), we found great chemistry and teamwork together and played accordingly.
Naturally, one thing led to another. As anyone who is likely to read this journal knows, interest in the character soon leads to interest in the player. Now, this has already manifested itself in me, with incredibly successful (thank you, Mike) and unsuccessful (thank you, Bobby) results. So, before I knew it, I was starting to get to know this halfling's player on a closer basis.
I wasn't worried about my relationship with Kristi at the time. I was happily in a relationship. She was not in a relationship (though the aforementioned Bard thought otherwise) and didn't want to be in one. We were safe, right?
Since I was going to be the last to leave of her circle of friends, I had the most opportunity to get close to her... and get close to her I did. After the only other guy she was really close to (another player in our D&D game) left for his next base, our relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend was established within a week (October 19, 2003).
I told Kristi I was seeing someone. I told my parents, who gave me some guidelines I'd for the most part already broken. We let it be known in our associations that we were seeing someone on base, and we gave updates on each other for our classmates.
When you spend every waking moment of your free time with somebody, you grow close very quickly, at a rate you would otherwise deem unhealthy. When the thought of having to leave each other at the end of my time at Sheppard became too much to bear, the talk of a legal marriage became the subject of many a conversation.
To shorten a complicated story, we had planned on getting married in Dallas over our two-week Christmas break. My family didn't like the news (although hers was rather receptive... I seem to have good luck with in-laws) and so, to save the relationship between the family I grew up with and the family I was soon to have, we decided not to get married now, although we still plan on doing so in about two years.
Since we didn't get married, we don't know when we'll be based together again. This is a very hard fact for me to swallow, and, for some reason, much harder for her. So we hoard every last moment we have together before we have to part for at least nine months.
Those moments have now been reduced to one hour. I leave for Keesler AFB (Biloxi, MS) this afternoon. I know when I'll see her again (we're taking a vacation in Florida next Christmas) but not when we'll live close enough to have a real relationship or plan a wedding. I'm happy to get off this God-forsaken base, but my heart is heavy when I think about not seeing her every day the way I have.
This is my life. My online life is about to return, as soon as I have my computer and DSL access at Keesler, so I'll keep you updated.
I've grown far more than five months since I arrived here in August. I'm sure there is nothing but more growing to do.
Until I see you again...
Airman Kenneth Marcus Wilson, USAF
|Monday, August 4th, 2003|
Well, after nine weeks of Heck (it really wasn't bad enough to call it Hell, after all), I've started to get my life back... starting hopefully with a brand new computer coming some time this next week.
It's nice to be able to say that I've graduated Basic Training... something not a whole lot of the population can say they've done. It's rare that I get to be proud of something that basically everyone respects. Of course, now everyone's going to be expecting more from me... including myself.
I'm in Wichita Falls, TX now, waiting for Technical Training to start next month. Until then, I'll be getting used to the way things are done away from Lackland. I'll have computer access far more often, so everyone who's used to seeing me should be able to again. Until next time...
Airman Kenneth Wilson
|Saturday, July 19th, 2003|
|OK, so this took a little longer than I expected...
Greetings from beautiful Lackland Air Force Base, Texas!
All right, I was supposed to be out of Basic Training by now, but that didn't quite happen. So I'm going to be here another two weeks, but at least I'm going to graduate, and that's more than you did this weekend.
Has it changed me? Yes and no. I've had to learn some things real quick (though, apparently, not quick enough), real hard, and that's bound to change you. On the other hand, some things will just never change, and anyone who knows me knows what those things are.
It's a pain in the rear, that's for certain. But it's getting better. Now that the days left to graduation are almost in the single digits, it's a lot easier to bear. I'll be more eloquent once I'm out, of course... you'll probably find out more about it than you ever wanted to know.
Suffice to say, I'm doing fine, I miss you all, and I'll see you soon.
Airman Basic Kenneth Marcus Wilson, USAF
|Wednesday, May 21st, 2003|
Well, I got it. I was waiting for it, knew it was coming... and it still shocked me.
I will be leaving for Basic Military Training on Tuesday.
This is what I've wanted. A new life, a new start, new opportunities... but I didn't really have to deal with the nerves until now.
I'm going to be incommunicado for about the next seven weeks - half a week while I get ready for something there is just no getting ready for, and then six and a half weeks of Hell.
And then... freedom. A room I don't have to pay for. Food. Clothing. Everything I need within walking distance. Money. Benefits. And a DSL connection just waiting for me. ^.^
I'm ready. At least, as ready as I think I can be.
Wish me luck.
|Friday, May 2nd, 2003|
|I AM Air Force Intelligence.
Be afraid. Be sort of afraid.
As of last Friday, my player swore himself into the United States Air Force.
As of last Monday, my player locked down a difficult job (Linguist) in Air Force Intelligence.
The clock is ticking, with less than a month to go until the single most significant event in my life (discounting all sorts of spiritual things that, since I've been a Christian my entire sentient life, doesn't mean as much as it probably should). Not only that, but only two and a half months before I can get back to my primary obsession - MUCKing.
In the meantime, my new PlayStation (nope, not PS2, not even PS1, but PSX, the large, old one) is providing me with enough of a secondary obsession... Final Fantasy. One. An old machine playing an even older game, and it is depriving me of sleep. I couldn't be happier.
And since this happens to be the latest LiveJournal fad...The Dante's Inferno Test has sent you to Purgatory!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test
Well, what do you expect from someone with a 94% purity rating? Birdbrain ought to do better on this one than he did on the Purity Test, though.
|Monday, April 14th, 2003|
|Taking a cue from Rush Limbaugh...
OK, time to open an uncomfortable can of worms, but it's central to my life and one of my significant activities. If you would rather skip anything having to do with faith or religion or anything of the nature, you might just want to ignore this post.
Many of you know that I and Michael Martin (sparro
) are best friends. Our interests, beliefs, and personalities have made us extraordinary companions for each other, which has given us the motivation to keep our relationship significant, even over 2,500 miles (of which I resent every one).
The one significant difference between Mike and I is our faith. I am an Evangelical (some say 'born-again') Christian, raised Southern Baptist. Mike was raised in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (commonly, the Mormons), and is or is not an Evangelical Christian or a member of a cult, depending on who you ask (and don't ask me).
When I met Mike, I could make a vague association with "Mormonism" and "Salt Lake City", "polygamy", and "Brigham Young University". Since I had such an interest in Mike, I wanted to be able to discuss his faith intelligently, so I looked to find what Mormonism was about, and if indeed I could agree with him on this issue. Suffice to say... it didn't happen. There were too many things about Mormonism that just went contrary to what I'd been brought up to believe.
Some people would just let it stop there.
I am not some people.
My perspective was, "OK, I've been brought up one way, he's been brought up another, which is right?" So I went from "looking into Mormonism" to "studying Mormonism". My attitude at this point was to, hopefully, sometime in my life, come to an agreement with Mike on this issue, whether he agreed with me, I agreed with him, or we just met somewhere in the middle. But there was really no hurry, Mike and I, I supposed, had a long time to come to an agreement over this.
Then something happened that I, and I certainly hope no one else, saw coming. I fell in love (OK, maybe not, but close enough) with his little sister. This presented a problem.
My perspective changed. This wasn't casual any more. For Kristi and I to have some sort of future together (and, yes, the feeling was mutual, for once), we HAD to agree when it came to faith. Not immediately, of course, but the timetable was moved up considerably. I reasoned that the easiest way to agree with Kristi was to go ahead with my plan anyway... agree with Mike. But now this quest to agree became a quest to convince. I went from passive to aggressive in nothing flat. And I was fine with that, really, I rather prefer aggressive...
But a couple of nights ago I realized what I was doing. This wasn't right. I didn't want to 'fight' Mike or Kristi over anything. But, then again, I sure's hell didn't want to leave them alone, I now have far too much invested in them.
How could I change my posture from being aggressive towards Mike's beliefs to being aggressive towards... towards... what?
Something from my childhood bubbled to my memory. My mother, in driving me and my sister all over the city wherever we needed to go, would listen to the radio... and between 12 and 3 PM Eastern the radio was turned to Rush Limbaugh. And something he said, over and over again, was playing over and over again in my mind. I had a phrase to make my own, a goal to work towards that I could be proud of.
"A Relentless Pursuit of the Truth."
And so, from here, this will be my motivation. Learn the truth, and present it. Stop at nothing, let nothing stand in my way. Cut through Mormon and Anti-Mormon bullcrap alike. The truth is out there... and I'm going to make it mine. It's the only thing I can do.
|Tuesday, April 8th, 2003|
|I feel ripped off.
I just gave blood for the first time.
They all said it'd make me feel dizzy, which I'm all for. Ask sparro
how I get when I'm sleep-depped.
Nothing. Not even kinda-spotty vision. I am no more punchy than I was two hours ago.
Oh, well. No more work on the article yet, probably going to do some more tonight.
Man, I have to go to work in two hours... having five days off in a row was NICE. Oh, well.
|Monday, April 7th, 2003|
|Talking In The Urinal
Whole bunch more of nothing going on, and here's some of it.
During a car ride, my sister was relating to me some of the things going on in her high school group. One of them involved Will (a rather popular joker) and Joel (a not-at-all popular outcast) using side-by-side urinals. (My sister was not an eye-witness to this event, I gathered.) While standing there, Joel started chatting, to which Will immediately cut him off: "No, Joel. No talking in the urinal." Now, of course, I know this to be true, and started going over in my mind certain other unspoken, unwritten rules of the men's restroom... when I realized that, even to myself, they sounded funny. Naturally, when I think of something funny like that, it winds up in my conversation with sparro
later that week. He's told me enough times that I have an amusing insight on such things that I know to keep it up, and I'll at least have his audience.
I realized, though, that there are a bunch of such social rules, and they can all be rather ridiculous or humorous. So I started writing them down, like I would write an article or a book. And thus has begun "Talking In The Urinal (and other Things Not Done)", my first non-fiction endeavor. I'll keep you up to date on how I'm doing, and probably post parts of it here sometime later.
Until then... somebody try to post something, please? It's getting so quiet... and silence makes me nervous, you know...
|Wednesday, March 26th, 2003|
You are a Fox! What kind of furry are you? brought to you by Quizilla
OK, honestly, I didn't get this first-time out, the quiz told me I was a cat... which, really, is more true than not. But I'm still definately a fox, I've always been a cat-like one.
|Monday, March 24th, 2003|
|Thursday, March 20th, 2003|
|Ka-boom! Fwisssh! Ka-pow! KA-BOOM!
No, those aren't the bombs going off in the Middle East... those are the fireworks going off at my house that this whole bunch of diplomacy crap is behind us and we can actually use a disarmament tactic that WORKS.
I half-wish I was in the militaray already. But my time will come, I know this. Until then, I'll fight the verbal battle at home against everyone standing against the war, the President, and anything that might hurt anyone anywhere in the world, regardless of how badly they need to be hurt.
I have always stood with the President on pretty much everything, and I will continue to do so. I was for consulting the United Nations only to get the left-leaning whiners to shut up about diplomacy. If the United Nations really wants world peace, there's one easy way to get it - kill everyone on the face of the Earth. Of course, that's the ONLY way we'll ever have world peace. Thank you, but I'd rather have war.
Well, that's my political rant for, oh, probably the next two hours, but at least the rest of them will be off my livejournal for a while. We'll see. Until next time...
*Fwisssh! (Whistle)... BOOM! Cracklecracklecrackle! Ka-blam!*
|Friday, March 14th, 2003|
|Injected, inspected, detected, infected, neglected and selected...
Yeah, yeah, I know I said I wouldn't post again for a while. Get over it.
Yesterday I went down to Miami (supposedly an hour away) for a physical examination for entrance into the Air Force.
Wait a second, let's back that up.
I set up the appointment with the recruiter. The office opens at 6AM, and you'll be there waiting, dammit, or that's it for you. So, because I'm so far north, what the Air Force is going to do is set me up with a Tri-Rail (tri-county train system) ticket down there, cab fare to a hotel, a room to spend the night it, cab fare to the medical center, lunch, cab fare to the Tri-Rail station, and a Tri-Rail ticket back. It turns out that the Air Force is very generous with taxpayer's dollars, and since I didn't have to pay taxes this year, well, I'm liking this deal all over.
But that's not the way it happened. You see, I have these things called parents. One of these things, the diminuitive female one, decides she doesn't like the idea of my spending the night in a Miami hotel with only cabs to get me around and no money. So, naturally, they're going to take me down there, leaving my home at 4AM so I can be there early. Let the fun begin.
I tell my recruiter this, and he gives me directions to the medical center. OK, fine. You take Florida's Turnpike to Homestead, turn left on 41st, turn left on 79th, look for the guard in the guardhouse, and you're there.
OK, mistake number one. I didn't take the Tri-Rail and the hotel. You'll see why in a minute.
Mistake number two. The night before the trip, I, distracted, give the directions to my parents, but I substitute the word "Hollywood" (a smaller city on the north end of Miami) for "Homestead" (a smaller city on the south end of Florida). This complicates matters greatly when I say "Homestead" after we're in the car the next morning, and finding out that we have enough time to make it to Hollywood, but Homestead will take about another 45-60 minutes.
Mistake number three. There are two 41sts off the Turnpike, one in North Miami, one in Homestead. According to my father, if I were driving on my own, I would have turned off at the first 41st, never making it to Homestead. I concur. So, we go past the first 41st and into Homestead. Come to find out...
There's only one 41st off of the Turnpike. The one half-an-hour back, in North Miami. But the instructions say Homestead, so it's gotta be around here somewhere, probably around the old Homestead Air Force Base, now a reserve center. We do a few laps around Homestead until we go into the old AFB and ask where it is.
Mistake number four. Despite the presence of the Air Force Base, despite my recruiter's information, there is no medical center in Homestead. It's in, that's right, North Miami. I mention that, yes, had I been driving by myself, I would have turned off the first 41st, never made it to Homestead, and gotten to the center on time. Making that statement would be mistake number five. Of course, my father is really, really interested in killing my recruiter now, and my mother is guilt-tripping herself for not letting me come down here the night before. I agreed, of course, but didn't join in.
Mistake number six. We reach the center, they drop me off, and then leave, at this point it's just after 7AM. Which is too late for me to begin processing, so I need to go home. I call my parents on the cell phone, they turn around and pick me up.
Mistake number seven. We almost get back on the Turnpike when my dad gets a phone call. It's the medical center. If they hurry, they can process me after all. So I turn myself in and start the long, long road to the Air Force, via peeing in a cup, duckwalking, turning my head and coughing, and waiting around for about an eternity and a half.
The rest of the day was not nearly as interesting. I have no depth perception, which will keep me out of flying those airplanes I never wanted to get into anyways, and I'm four pounds overweight, or one inch undertall, whichever way you want to look at it. I have to lose the extra weight or grow the extra inch before I go back to Miami on April 3rd.
I don't care if I have to be there at 6AM, 12 noon, or 6PM... I'm staying in the hotel this time.
Until next time,