Readers and Painters and Spontaneous Blabber

I found a guy at work that doesn’t watch television but is an avid reader. He is not actually a southerner (not born and raised) so that might explain it. At least someone else here reads. Granted, I have not gone out much, but I am pretty sure most people I work with are not readers. This one is an avid one. I was starting to be afraid I lived in the land of gape mouthed droolers.

And then yesterday I discovered there is a guy at my work who is a painter. And not a bad one either.

It is nice to know that there are people out there here in the south that know more than big trucks, football and beer.

Speaking of beer, I haven’t had one since September. I have had two small glasses of wine in all that time and that is it. Cigarettes are not even something I think about anymore.

I am still reading all things Catholic. That is, when I even have time to read. The Spanish I had to back-burner for a few weeks and am hoping to get back into this weekend. I was really enjoying that.

Writing. Uff. Writing. I got to try to fit that in somewhere. If I am not inundated with housework and repairs then I am driving two hours on the week end to the parent’s place.

I am a very poor time manager. The painter guy at work works as much as I do, is a single father, and finds time for the painting and I bet other things as well.

Of course, the other day I was thinking about rewatching the BSG reboot for the third time. Perhaps if I got to the writing and put that important piece on the back burner, then I would have time for the writing!


A Southern Tale

So I have a co-worker who is everything you would expect from a white man from the south. Especially if your source is Hollywood movies (Chevy Chase’s Fletch 2 comes to mind…). This man stated that (on MLK day) they should have shot that n- a lot sooner than they did. Thinks homosexuals should be killed, or at least says as much – sometimes people aren’t quite where their mouth is. And that we should deport all Mexicans (he does not distinguish between say a Peruvian and a Mexican or someone from El Salvador – they are all “fucking Mexicans” in his book) and shoot them if necessary. Thinks the only language that should be spoken within these borders is English. If he hears two people speaking Spanish he calls it gibberish and will be very agitated.

This last shows a real breathtaking ignorance. He’d be shocked how many times and places in American history where English wasn’t the dominant language. Think of the influx of Irish, of Italisn, German, Norwegian, Jewish, etc, etc, etc. Hell, I didn’t look it up, but I bet the first language spoken on these shores from Europe was likely Spanish or Italian.

“This is America!” he yells, “Speak English!”

So I have taken up learning Spanish. Because Continue reading “A Southern Tale”