In The Black

As we all know, it is winter time. Fairly recently, Oklahoma fell under an ice storm. It wasn’t as bad as the one in 2002, but this one was enough to knock out the power to pretty much all of Oklahoma. I’ll say this, it was very much so unneeded. Here’s how it all went down.

It was 2:30 a.m. I was in my campus apartment, munching on some Ramen and watching Reservoir Dogs. I had noticed outside was getting iced over, but I didn’t pay much attention to the news. Well, right as I got to the part where “Mr. Pink” (Steve Buscemi) was shooting at the cops, the power began to flicker. It was a strong enough surge to shut off my T.V. and reset my alarm clock. I paused, looked up, and it went out again, then back on again, then off again for good. Everything was off. Not good. I threw on my jeans, my Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt, my boots, my gray hoodie, and my heavy blue jacket. For some dumb reason, I thought I could go to my El Camino and get my flashlight out, not realizing until I got there that my windows were iced over. Dejected, I decided to make my way back to the apartment. I looked at the floor above mine, and I saw a figure lighting up what I thought was a cigarette. I thought it was my friend Robert.

“Who’s there?” I yell out. As I yell this, this thing that the figure was lighting up was launched from the figure’s hand. I realize that it’s a firecracker. “Look out!” the figure cries. I jump out of the way, and it explodes on contact with the ground. I wasn’t too happy, I mean, the thing was inches from my face! But, he didn’t know, so I figured I’d join him for a cigarette. As I light up a Marlboro, the guy continues to apologize to me, but I didn’t care. I was just wanting a flashlight. Then a pretty girl from down the hall, Stephanie, came to join us. When I saw that the security was called on the guy above me, I jetted back to my apartment. A little sleep would be alright. As I begin to shut my eyes, I hear bed springs creaking above me…

When I woke up, I noticed that we got our electricity back, but in certain areas of our apartment. For example, I had light, but the fridge and the TV’s weren’t working at all. Neither were the phones. My roommate Robert wakes me up to inform me about this turn of events. He offers to take us back to his parent’s house in the country. Although angered, I accept. His mother comes to pick us up, and we make our way into the country, where we were ready for some good home cooked food. I also brought some video games, because everyone in that family was a video game nut. So, I brought over a NASCAR game, and I also brought over some “guitars” for their Guitar Hero games. Well, upon arrival, the Playstation 2 was immediately put to good use. First Sprint Cars, then NASCAR, then Guitar Hero. Robert’s mom cooked us some good penne pasta and meatballs.

As we were playing Kansas on Guitar Hero II, the electricity goes out again. We sit there, trying to figure out what to do, when Robert’s father comes home. After some while, we decide to open up our apartment to Robert’s siblings, while his parents go to Oklahoma City for the night. Robert’s dad takes us back to our apartment, but not before buying us dinner. We decided to go back to the apartment because we still had heat. I went to sleep early, because I was hoping I could talk to my girlfriend Cassandra soon.

I had left my light switch on, so when the electricity would come back on, I would wake up. And it did come on before I woke up, at 11:50 a.m. the next day. Of course, I was elated. Looking back on it, although it was fun, I hope it doesn’t happen again. That was one miserable day.

Merry Christmas

Every December in Chickasha, Oklahoma, an event known as the Festival of Lights takes place. It is a magnificent event, quite effective in spreading Christmas cheer. I’ve lived in Chickasha for a year, and until a few weeks ago, I had never visited the place. But Christmas is my favorite time of year, so I jumped at the opportunity to help out on one of the nights it was open. A friend of the apartment, a lady named Andrea, had offered me, my roommate Robert, and his girlfriend Becca an opportunity to go spread some Christmas cheer. We all love Andrea to death, so of course, we all jumped at the opportunity.

The night we were going to help out was bitter cold and misty. Robert drove while me and his girlfriend rode shotgun in his tiny Toyota pickup. When we got on to the street where the entrance was at, we saw that traffic was backed up for quite a ways. We drove passed them and into the parking lot. The first thing that caught my eye was the 160-foot-tall Christmas tree. It was a marvelous red, and the mist that had settled upon the town had given the tree a surreal aurora. We made our way across the pond bridge, which was decked in a superb show of white lights. Across the pond, they had several giant snowflakes that cast a beautiful show of lights across the pond.

We finally made our way to the exit of the drive-thru tour. Apparently, somebody else took care of the people who took the 43 acre walk-thru tour. There, we met up at a little stand that was set in between a two-lane street with the lady that was going to help us out. She had a pretty cool setup there: a small shack to keep our surplus, a heater, a donation stand, buckets of candy, and a Christmas light setup that announced in bright green: DONATIONS ACCEPTED! Our jobs were pretty simple. Robert was going to hand out candy to those who drove by us, Becca was going to take donations, and of course, yours truly was going to stand and spread Christmas cheer. Of course, as elated as I was, I took matters into my hands by yelling “Merry Christmas!” and dancing around like a crazy person.

Apparently, Robert and Becca didn’t like my enthusiasm, while the lady we were paired with didn’t know what to think (Apparently, I found out later that she told the entire Chickasha newspaper, and I developed a little fan club). But as the cars drove towards us, they must’ve thought the sight of a 6’4″ beanpole in a trenchcoat jumping around yelling “Merry Christmas!” was something to smile about, and more often than not those who drove towards us to give donations had smiles on their faces, often as large as the one I possessed. In all honesty, I felt like I did a good job spreading some Christmas cheer.

As our shift came to a close, Robert and Becca elected to go home, but not yours truly. I elected to stay for a little bit of the next shift, because face it, I was having too much fun! the lady we were with had offered to drive me home, which I was more than happy to accept. Heck, out of the whole deal, I got all the free hot chocolate I could ask for! When she decided to leave, I was more than happy to go as well, so we left. I would have to say however, the Festival of Lights is the perfect place to go to in your search of Christmas cheer. Take it from me.

Merry Christmas, folks!

Graveyard Drive

I have the windows down on the El Camino. It’s a beautiful day in late November, yet colder than hell. Yet why do I have the windows down? Good question. I’m dressed lightly, in my Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt, Aviators perched precariously on my nose, daddy’s dog-tags hanging loosely around my neck, blue jeans, and my favorite work boots. I have the stereo blaring AC/DC, and you can hear Brian Johnson screaming maniacally to a crazed crowd:

“We roll tonight to the guitar bite

Stand up and be counted for what you are about to receive
We are the dealers
We’ll give you everything you need
Hail hail to the good times
Cos rock has got the right of way
We ain’t no legends ain’t no cause
We’re just livin’ for today“

Today, I feel good. I feel right. I feel like a throwback to my outlaw roots. Of course, that brings back memories of long ago happiness under the Texas skies, of where a get together consisted of the parents inviting some of the craziest folks around and drinking some beer while I help with the barbeque, being the wee man I was.

I approach the intersection right next to the cemetary. It’s a rather large plot of land, and to get to the college, I would have to drive past the entire length. I look both ways at the stop sign. I see no one. I press down the accelerator, and turn the wheel hard left, and carry on my way.
I approach the cemetary entrance. But instead of driving past it, I found myself turning left into the entrance, and before I knew it, I was piloting the El Camino into the Land of The Dead.

What the Hell are you doing, man?, I think to myself.

I keep my foot off the gas, and I let the car roll forward. It’s hypnotic, really. The twigs and acorns crunching and cracking underneath the tires, the low rumble of the engine, as if it had a mind of it’s own and was paying respect to these souls that were resting peacefully, and…silence. Absolute silence, save for my breathing. I had turned the stereo off when I turned into the cemetary.

Turn left, I hear a small voice say. So, I turned left. There, the path was covered in pine needles and acorns. I let the El Camino rumble forward quietly, but the sound of cracking twigs and acorns grew immense. I slowed at the next interestion, then I saw that it was muddy, so I went straight.

At the next intersection, I turned left. A runner was making her way through the cemetary away from me, and for a split second I felt like I was in a ’70s stake-out movie. The humorous thought gave me a grin. I turned at the first left I came across. I went about 20 feet, then stopped. I sat there, car idling, contemplating why I was there, because at this point, it still befuddled me. But I got out, El Camino still idling. I walked over to a gravesite with a small tombstone that had an American flag below it and a pink rose above it.

Troop, I thought. I was right.

The headstone read:

S SGT ROBERT M. STRINGFIELD
USMC WORLD WAR II
1917-1999

I kneeled at it, speechless, blank. I didn’t feel anything, namely because I had other thought about him on my mind, such as how he lived his life. For his age, the old man saw alot. He endured a great war, and survived, then proceeded to watch the times change right before his very eyes. He saw history. Did he die peacefully? Did he have a clean conscious? Did he have any secrets or regrets?
None of that mattered anymore. He was now somewhere else.

Somewhere Else.

What is somewhere else, Joseph?

I got back to my feet, and I looked down at SSGT Stringfield’s resting place. “Thank you,” was all I could utter. I get back into the El Camino, shut the door, buckle up, and revved the engine. The old Chevy roared. Slowly, I made my way back outside of the cemetary. Reaching for my collar, I grabbed my Aviator sunglasses and put them back on. I pass through the cemetary gates. Free to do as I please, I turned AC/DC back on, and blared it loud. After all, that is the way AC/DC is meant to be played.

For those about to rock, we salute you
For those about to rock, we salute you

Vigilante Justice

Admit it. There are always times, you know, certain cases, where you would like to take justice into your own hands. Sure, sometimes these means may defy human logic, but that doesn’t mean you won’t feel good taking justice into your own hands in awhile. Personally, I am all for vigilante justice. And with good reason.

When it comes to today’s society, I am not the most astute guy around, by God. I hold a more simpler understanding of things. In some cases, that isn’t quite the best thing to have. However, in other cases, saying, “fuck the red tape” and taking a simpler route is much better. In today’s pop culture, it is supposedly understood that if you go to prison, you’re automatically a badass. I highly doubt that’s the message that our federal correctional system tries to convey. I mean, some of the sorry bastards live to be repeat offenders. Isn’t the purpose of prison punishment? Where you learn your lesson?

What needs to be done, is to strike fear into the hearts of these low-lifes. Make them rue the very thought of their offense. Sin always outs. Always. So why even think of doing something so ridiculous? Let’s throw down something here. For example: child molestors, may they rot in Hell, should be released among general prison population. Even in prison there is an honor code. Mess with a kid, and you’re done for.

In certain cases however, natural law is inadequate, by far. Sometimes, the best thing is to take justice into your own hands. The world we live in thrives on greed, and evil. And don’t tell me you wouldn’t love putting a Colt .45 to the temple of someone who truly deserves it, the absolute scum of life. Sending a message that crime will not be tolerated isn’t something that should be settled with lawyers and money. It should be settled with true, physical action. With said actions, you would be able to show others to leave and take their bullshit somewhere else. And if Vigilante Justice spreads, hopefully someday there will be nowhere for these worms to go.

The Kid

As a 19-year-old Oklahoman, I have been subject to some crazy stuff in my life. I’m not going to go Emo, and say life is so ugly and whatnot. On the contrary, life is amazing. But that’s not the point of this story. It runs a little deeper than that.

For those that know me, you would say I have an ego the size of my home state of Texas. Some would call me promiscuous and hard-headed. On occasions, I am even referred to as a ruthless bastard. I can live with those tags, although after hearing them long enough, you tend to let it affect you; ergo, call me a bastard, chances are I’ll become a bastard. It’s the way of things. Call someone something, and they are bound to change.

 With this happening however, I have learned more and more about myself. In a sense, I have discovered my limits, or my boundaries…my texture. And for the longest time, I would feel like if I made a positive impact on just one person, I’d have it made. Sure, I have my beautiful baby brothers Sam and Nick. Those two are the loves of my life. But I wanted to impact somebody else.

 A few months ago, I met a 16-year-old kid from Ohio by the name of Stephanie. No, nothing romantic mind you; she’s a good kid. When I first met her, I found this kid to be quite quirky and odd. Of all the catchphrases in the world, you want to know what her signature one is? “SQUEE!” Crazy kid. I met her in a Facebook group of mine called “Man Law”, a spin-off of the commercials of Miller Lite fame. The group is overly populated by beer-drinking, partying individuals, so to find a homebody kid in the group seemed different.

But as I got to talking to her, I found out she was actually a rarity. I say rarity in the sense that kids like her are few and far between, and this is coming from a guy who lives in the center of the Bible Belt. At the age of 16, her primary concern is living according to God’s word. She practices abstinence, doesn’t cuss, and stays away from drugs and alcohol. All of that alone earned my utmost respect and admiration. A kid that chose to stay pure on her own accord…why can’t most teens follow that example?

One night, after an exchange between her and another of the group’s patrons in which I was almost mortified over, I proceeded to take a brotherly stance with her, and proceeded to give her some words of wisdom. When she asked why I cared, I told her, “Because kids like you give people like me hope.” That line floored even me. But it’s true. Kids like her give people like me hope. She says I gave her the push she needed that night, and she proceeded to leave that group, along with several other groups that had bad influences. That night, she decided to strengthen her walk with Christ.

Before that night, I hadn’t really given the name “Jesus Christ” much thought in a long time. Once upon a time, I considered myself a Christian. But then, I sort of dropped off, if that makes sense. It got to the point where I even questioned His very existence. Stephanie changed that, believe or not. When she said that she felt like God was using me to speak to her, that night I went to my on-campus apartment and cried. Since then, I haven’t questioned His existence at all. I hope to someday make that walk, and give my life back to God. When I do it though, I want to be able to give it my all.

Kids like Stephanie, are few and far between. Over the time that I have known her, I have felt a sort of brotherly love, a sort of protective love over the kid. As I said, kids like her give people like me hope. I have learned a few things from her about life believe it or not. For example, life is too short to be pissed off constantly. Also, always have the ability to laugh. Never let anything get you down for long. And above all, enjoy the little things in life. It makes life easier.

White Sand

I was supposed to be heading to the apartment to do some homework, but I figured I’d take a small detour. The night felt great, the moon was shining bright, and it was a Saturday night. No way in Hell was I to be kept inside an apartment for the evening. So, I took the El Camino for a spin around Chickasha. It was a good way to clear my thoughts. Blare the radio, and put the pedal to the floor. Everything was looking tame, until I passed the Valero right next to the Fairgrounds. Four cop cars were in the lot, lights flashing, so I slowed up. They were all there because they found not one, but two fellas drunk driving. I snickered at their stupidity, and drove on.

The night felt great. Quiet, calm, peaceful, with nothing but the sound of an American made small block 350 Chevy and the wind whistling through the windows.
I finally reached a stoplight, and decided to take a left to head back to the school. Procrastination is a bitch, I thought. I drove slowly down the narrow two-lane road. A large Ford pick-up was coming down the other lane, but behind him was nobody. So when he passed, I hit my brights. I stopped at a dark, quiet four-way intersection. I sat for a good while, with 12 Stones playing through the radio. It’s intersection like these that are most tempting when you’re cruising around. It’s quiet and peaceful, makes you want to drive even more, but at the same time, I needed to get back to the school, which was a good ways along the road. Finally, I gave in, and turned right.

After a good way down the road, I came across an old dirt road that I had traveled down many times. I turned onto it, stopped, and shut the lights off. As I sat, I thought about the times when I had my Ford pick-up, when I had nothing to do, I would spend hours on the outskirts of El Reno, just cruising down the old dirt roads; thinking, reflecting, just clearing my head.

It’s been too long… I thought.

I shut the radio off, put the car back in drive, and the El Camino began to move forward. The moon was shining brightly, making the gravel shine like white sand. The sound was intense, yet quiet and calm. It was actually therapeutic. The wind was blowing through the weeds that caressed the barbed wire fence that some farmer or ranch hand must’ve put up eons ago. The crickets and grasshoppers were yelling at me, in this large, rumbling, metal animal as if it were a serious threat to their habitat. The gravel crunching underneath the tires was actually very peaceful.

I needed this.

I slowly came across to my intersection, where it was asphalt in every other direction. I took a breath, and decided to head back to the apartment. Moral of my story? Take a cruise every once in awhile. Go to the quietest road you know, and just drive. No radio. It does wonders.

The First Blog

Oh boy, I’m finally a blogger.  This is actually pretty cool. Forgive me if this seems scatterbrained, but seeing as to how college is currently weighing me down, along with girlfriend issues, and money issues, I really do not have much to say at the moment. But trust me, this will pass. Anyhow, enough jabbering for now, and in due time, you will be hearing alot from me. Have a good one!