Spine and Circumstance

Here's to the New Year and to new beginnings! So much has changed in the weeks gone by, where do I begin with all the updates?


I suppose I'll just go back and begin at the beginning: On the 16th day of February back in 1981.... okay, too far back. Bring it forward some...


After graduation from Spartan in March of 2011, I landed a pretty sweet gig with Lockheed Martin in Marietta, GA. For about six months I worked on the assembly line building the world-renowned C-130j Super Hercules. I learned quite a lot and got to see and do some really cool things, but most importantly I learned that a career in manufacturing is not for me. When I learned that layoff was eminent, I began making plans for a new job. This time at a maintenance facility known as Duncan Aviation in Lincoln, Nebraska.


About 10 weeks before my scheduled departure from Lockheed Martin, I was tying my shoe at the foot of the bed before going in to work when I enjoyed the sensation of a hot ice pick pounded into my spine. I subsequently hit the floor writhing in pain. My cell phone was on the bed so I pulled the edge of the comforter until the phone fell down to me. Fearing the worst, I made some phone calls with what little breath I could get at a time; let my carpool know not to pick me up and let work know I might be out a day or two.


Skipping ahead a little: I learned I had a myofacial strain, some badly strained muscles, and a laundry list of pinched nerves. The good news was that all my discs are okay and everything will heal in time. After six weeks of traction therapy by Dr. Schipske in Marietta, GA and a trip to the E.R., it was time to drive 13 hours from Georgia to Oklahoma - something the doctors did not advise.

Here is a real image of my spine:

That light area in the center is my heart.

"...and they say his heart grew three sizes that day!"

I arrived in Tulsa before the Christmas Holiday season to spend the time with Micah, Miles, and the Pope family before leaving to Lincoln, Nebraska with Micah and Miles in tow. This is where it all changed.


Before leaving Georgia, I knew I would need follow-up care beyond what Dr. Schipske had given. I found another chiropractor and looked at some new X-rays. Dr. Schipske, the E.R. Doctor, and now Dr. Standridge are all in agreement... "You're not going to be able to go back to manual labor for at least 6 months!"


Not the words of encouragement I was looking for just two weeks before starting a new job two states away. Duncan Aviation cannot hire me if I am not capable of performing my job. As all this was happening, things were beginning to grow at alma mater: Spartan College of Aeronautics & Technology. Now for the great news:


Duncan Aviation is pleased to hear that I will be improving my education and experience while recovering my spine problems. My position will be held for me there. Since my separation with Lockheed Martin was result of downsizing and layoff, I qualify to collect unemployment benefits. My course of study at Spartan College is an 'Approved' course of study as per the OK Employment Security Commission and as a result I am not required to perform a work search for each week I am in school.


So, look for us in June when I will graduate with an Associates of Applied Science in Aviation Maintenance Technology and again in 2014 when I will have completed a Bachelor's of Applied Science in Aviation Business Management!

My Dusty Dog

Quite some time ago, I adopted a young Weimaraner who already had his AKC registered name of: Dusty Velvet VIII. My Dusty-dog, to which I affectionately called him, lived for 12 long and wonderful years.

He had been my buddy and best friend through good times and bad. Playing at the lake or tennis ball in the yard... and sometimes - in the early years, we ate ramen noodles together. Sometimes out of the same bowl!


As we grew together times got better. We ate quality food, and went to nice places. I gave whatever I could to my Dusty. He gave me a friendship - no, a kinship that I’ve never known.


In September of 2010, he died in my arms of gastric torsion. He’d had several bouts before that were recovered with quick doses of semethicone. His vet had already warned me years before that this problem, once encountered, would happen again and again... and eventually be fatal. There are emergency surgical procedures, but they are very costly and may not stop the eminent result. Depending on the resource you read, you’ll find the life expectancy of a Weimaraner to be anywhere from 9 to 13 years. Most common numbers seem to be 10 to 12. My best friend lived to 12... right to the top of the average.


When he died, my friend Melissa was very understanding and affectionate and helped me handle Dusty’s remains. I cried on her shoulder as I told her how I saw him take his last breath and struggle for more. I told her of how I talked to him and told him what a good boy he was. How I held my head against his chest until I couldn’t hear his heart beat any longer. How I poured my tears on him and eventually pulled the sheet over his head.


All the semethicone in the world wasn’t enough to save him that night. It happened so fast an emergency vet would only have been able to deny him of dieing at home.


Melissa helped me carry his body the the local pet crematorium, and let me cry more on her shoulder as he was carried from her car.


That night, Melissa stayed with me. But she left early in the morning - before I woke up. I later learned that she left because she heard Dusty drinking from his water bucket.


Before I moved away from Tulsa, I heard him shake his head and his big, long ears slapping against his head. I heard him snort and sigh. I felt him curl on my bed beside me. There were countless other times I was aware of his presence.


I’ve been in the Atlanta area for nearly six months now. On Friday night, waning gibbous, 11-11-11, he made a very big visit. I don’t know if the day of the week, the moon phase, or the numerology has anything to do with anything. But I know what I felt.


I was watching some mundane sitcom, then I was suddenly overwhelmed with very strong memories of Dusty’s dieing moments. I urged myself to remember the good times: snuggling on the couch or bed, throwing the tennis ball, throwing the frisbee, playing keep-away, swimming at the lake... talking to him when I’d had a particularly good or bad day.


I’ve felt his presence many times in the last year. But Friday was different. I knew he was here. I could feel him in the room. As I lay in bed watching a mundane sitcom, I patted the comforter beside me and said “Come on!”. I turned my attention back to the TV, but then I could smell his musk. He was there. He was here. Lying next to me. Wanting noting more than a scratch on the ear and a muzzle against my cheek.


I talked to him and held on for what I could. I could feel his adoration. I could feel his love. His energy.


I’m no longer worried about losing my Dusty-dog. He’s not lost at all. He’s right by my side no matter where I go. As he has always been.


I Love You, Dusty Velvet.

The Bloody Handprint

 
Morals. We have them, but what are they? It is my understanding that a moral decision is based on what you feel to be the right thing to do. When we're raising our kids or training our dogs, we use reward and punishment respectively to encourage good behaviors, and quash bad ones. 


It's this bit of Reward versus Punishment concept that was brought to me via Penn Jillette of the popular and famous Penn & Teller comedy/illusionist duo. I'm going to cite his appearance on Real Time with Bill Maher as to give proper credit to Penn and his recent book, "God, no!"


When we make a decision based on our personal morals, we make that decision for a pure purpose. When we make a decision based on whether or not we will be punished or rewarded, that is not as clear; that decision is based on whether or not we want the reward or can bear the punishment - not on morals.


If I place a donut on the table in front of you and tell you that it's yours if you want it, you may or may not take it based on whether or not you want the donut. If I place a donut on the table and tell you to eat it and I'll give you a dollar, and if you don't, I'm gonna hit you with a baseball bat, you're very likely to eat the donut to avoid being hit with a bat. You've avoided punishment and received a reward. Was that a decision based on anything more than the comparison of reward versus punishment?

Let's take that same scenario and change it up a bit: If I lay a familiar book on the table in front of you and give you the choice of believing what is says, or not. This time the reward is everlasting life in a magical fairy land where you get everything you want, and the punishment is an eternity of burning alive, whips, and bee stings. What's the obvious answer?


I'm not out to offend any one, but I am out to demonstrate the scare tactics used by most mainstream religion. It is not wrong to believe in something because one's morals is the lead. I do feel it is not healthy to believe something because you've been bullied into wearing blinders.


YouTube Clip: http://youtu.be/XmiuYyQ3Xgo
Barnes and Noble; "God, no!": http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/god-no-penn-jillette/1100392611

Bagels and Church [Repost from former blog roll]

[Original post date: November 30, 2008]


In an email, I was recently asked what, if any, religion I subscribe to. After much thought, deliberation, thinking, and a little soul-searching, I came to the following determinations:

 

I guess "Higher Power" would be the right response. Whether that
higher power be a god, the God, the leader of the Pleiadians of the
star system Pleiades, or pure energy is up for discussion. We are too
complex and precise to be here accidentally or as the result of
primordial ooze. (Just take one look at the human circulatory system!)
While I agree that some aspects of evolution may be true, the
beginning had to begin somehow. Existence is no accident.

I believe that all wars can be traced back to a religious belief or
dispute. Even the 9/11 attacks are attributed to a group of people who
were doing what they believe to be the right thing to do. Since nearly
every organized religion believes their way is the right way and the
only way and all others are wrong, when when subscribing to a
particular set of rules, it becomes impossible to have any sort of
imagination or an open mind about any other sort of belief. They all
say the other is wrong... but what if they're all wrong?

People go around creating new religions all the time. Take the Mormons
for example. Invented in the 1800s by a fellow named Joseph Smith (who
died in 1844) after reciting the Book Of Mormon to a transcriber while
reading it out of a hat with some 'magic' stones to translate.
According to the Book of Mormon, Jesus lived and performed miracles in
what is now known as Utah. Thousands of miles away from other older
historic texts. I could create yet another religion fairly easily;
further exacerbating the point I am about to make.

Every religion is wrong. Every religion is right. Specifically
"Organized Religions". Most organized religions have one thing in
common... The Golden Rule.

Christianity: "In everything, do to others as you would have them do to you."
Wiccan: "Harm none and no harm shall come to you."
Hinduism: "Do not unto others that which would cause you pain if done to you."
Taoism: "Regard your neighbor's gain as your own gain and your
neighbor's loss as your own loss."
Islam: "Act with people the way you would like them to act with you."
Confucianism: "Do not do to others what you do not want them to do to you."
African Traditional: "One going to take a pointed stick to pinch a
baby bird should first try it on himself to feel how it hurts."
Native American: "Respect for all life is the foundation."
The list goes on...

I've come to these conclusions: always have an open mind, believe that
we are not alone in this great cosmos, live by the Golden Rule, love
life, and live long.

I hope that helps!

In Faith,
-joshua

3:30am, September 11th, 2011....

Good evening, my fellow bloggers and blog readers.



I must apologize for my lack of posts as the last intended post was disallowed, resulting in a lack of future posts. The events that occurred during that unintended hiatus may or may not be explained in future posts. Until then, here’s a recap of today:



Today was an eventful day. Albeit, today actually translates to ‘tonight’. It all began when I woke up around 9am. It was a beautiful Saturday morning at a whopping 80 degrees and practically no humidity. I opened my window and enjoyed the breeze as I lay watching useless television. My day turned to texting and a few text conversations leading up to endless fussing with my laptop. 



The wifi signal is poor. Let’s do something about it! Google resulted in some query replies with great ideas about methods to create a homebuilt, extended antenna by connecting a copper coaxial cable to the onboard auxiliary antenna inside the laptop. I experimented with this, and found (almost immediately) a surplus static charge building in my make shift antenna. This situation could result in permanent damage to my already aging laptop, so I decided to pull the cord and shoot for something more practical.



Chasing a tip from my long time friend Glen H., I made my way to the local BestBuy for a boosted antenna. I planned my bus route to take me to the AT&T store first so that I could handle some business there, then backtrack to BestBuy (open later than AT&T), then catch the #10 bus back to Windy Hill Road where I intended to get dinner at Dixie Tavern, along with some drinks while enjoying the local music scene on a Saturday night.



Riding the #10 towards AT&T, the bus turned off of Cobb Parkway. I thought I had missed my AT&T stop, rang the bell, and de-boarded. Once on the sidewalk, I pulled up Google Maps on my [mostly] smart phone and discovered I had gotten off way to soon. Google estimated a walk time of 35 minutes, but I only had 20 to get there before closing.



Realizing that I had made a mistake, I altered my plans to take me to BestBuy. I caught the next bus in the opposite direction and got off again in front of BestBuy. As I entered the store, I checked with the security guy to ask if my Spartan backpack was okay. He was not suspicious and said I could carry it.



I made my way to the computer department by way of the water fountain, and found the networking supplies. They did not have what I was looking for, but I did find an 802.11N usb dongle that I think will do the trick... providing the chipset is one already known to my Linux distro.



With my purchase in my backpack, I caught the next #10 to Windy Hill Road. I de-boarded and went to Dixie Tavern. Paid my $3 for the band, had a fantastic open faced Creamy Crayfish [crawfish where I come from] and Cheese on a roll. Just cant wait to have that again! But I digest...



By the time I had finished my dinner and Sprite, the band was getting going pretty good. I ordered a double White Russian in a pint glass and held my place at the busying bar.




Another double White Russian in a pint glass...




Another....




Okay, you get the the picture.




The band sounded great and sounded better the more they drank. Or the more I drank.... either way, they were a great band. Not only in quality of music, but in stage presence and crowd collaboration. I ran into a buddy from work and chatted for a bit, the ran into a man I had played pool against a few weeks before in the same location. Lots of laughs and good fun!



At around 1:30am, I learned that Dixie Tavern serves alcohol til 3am on Saturdays!!!! To my Oklahoma friends, that means real beer, not watered down Oklahoma beer..... HA Ha HA HA Ha HA!



Sooooo...... I stuck around for another round. The band ended with a great finale, the servers eloquently persuaded the patrons to settle their tabs, and I made my way out.



I left the Dixie Tavern feeling a little more alive after such a positive influx. A sense of rejuvenation.  A sense of satisfaction. But not that of intoxication, mind you. I am writing this blog in the same state that I left the ‘Tavern.



Along my less-than-one-mile walk home along the left side of the road, I saw a car approaching slowly. Quickly checking my surroundings, I knew where I would run if need be. The approaching car got a little closer, then closer still. At the ready to bolt, the car flashed blue lights! WTF?!


By the legal definition, I am drunk. Not staggering or even swaying. Just walking along in my best polished black boots, my khaki pants, and my best Harley polo -- wearing a backpack. “He just wants to check me out...”, I thought as I held my hands away from my body with a burning cigarette and stopped in my tracks.


The officer was very polite and professional, asking where I was going and where I was coming from. I answered his questions and he continued: “Do you have any guns, knives, or other weapons? Do you have ID? What’s in the backpack?”


“No, sir. I don’t” as he is motioning that he wants to pat me down. I obliged to the pat-down, naturally, but he took my left wrist with my cigarette and pulled it behind me as he was also pulling my right arm to follow. Before the panic could set in, he reassured me that I was not under arrest and that he was not cuffing me. The pat-down was like any that I’d ever had going through security at the various jobs I’ve had in he past... until he put his had in my boot. I completely understand the reasoning, but that was the fist time I’d ever felt like an officer was 'under my clothes’. Before this pat-down ended, another patrol car had stopped and another officer was standing in front of me.  
The first officer left with my ID and the second gave me the third degree while looking through my backpack, with my consent:


”What‘s in here?”
”A usb card I bought at BestBuy for my laptop.”
”Do you have a receipt?”
”Yes, sir. It is in the bag with the card.”


.... he continues looking at the contents of the bag... [the only things in the bag are the BestBuy bag, usb card, and receipt.]


“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“Where is home?”
“I’m currently stating at [...], but that is temporary until I find a permanent home.”
“Where are you coming from?”
“Dixie Tavern.”
“Do you have a car there?”
“No, sir. I don’t own a car right now.”
“How long have you been there?”
“Since about ten or so.”
“Why were you there?”
“I had dinner, and wanted to see the band while a had a couple of drinks.”
“Why are you walking home?”
“I don’t have a car right now, I live close, and I don’t see the need to pay for a cab.”


That’s a bit paraphrased, but it is the gist of the conversation. I couldn’t hear some of what he said over the sound of me shitting my pants (not literally). The first officer returned and haded me my ID as he was looking to the second officer. 


“Have a good night, Mr. Copeland.”
“Yes sir.” I hesitated. “You two have a good night, as well.”


As I walked up the hill with my best polished black boots, my khaki pants, my best Harley polo, and my backpack, I glanced over my shoulder to see the two officers studying where i had extinguished my cigarette before putting the butt in my pocket as I usually do.


The cigarette that I put out on the sidewalk was nearly the last one in the pack. As I rounded the corner getting within sight of home, I stopped at the BP for a new pack. The gentlemen behind the counter recognized me as I stop in every weekday morning for coffee. I recounted the cop-stop to them in a brief summary. All the while making jokes, “Do I look like a terrorist? ... Little skinny white guy?” and so on.


I learned something from them. Quite ironically. Perhaps I don’t fit the description of a terrorist, but tonight I did. I was a guy, regardless of race or appearance, at nearly 4:00am, carrying a backpack, walking in the direction of a high class neighborhood that consists of a variety of top local political figures.


I had no idea that kind of neighborhood was so close.


I admire the Cobb County and Marietta law enforcement for checking me out tonight. Even if they did scare the shit outta me!!


In summation, we are a great nation. We are a strong nation. We’ve been here for years passed, and will be for years to come. My only fear for Our Country is one of pride. We can look at history and see what has happened to prideful countries. Please don’t misunderstand what I mean with the word ‘pride’. The word has two significant definitions. For example, being proud of your children for doing well; being proud of yourself for accomplishing a difficult task or goal.


But on the other side, pride: being boastful, arrogant, conceited, stuck-up, walking with the ‘greater-than-thou’ facade, being an asshole, et cetera.


Let’s not be assholes.


Let’s be good people.


Let’s be astute people.


Let’s be an aware nation.


Let’s show the world what it means to be proud.

La Cité des enfants perdus

In 1966, i was playing lawn darts with Billy Preston. Ringo walked by leading a pink poodle dog wearing a Jimmy Carter mask and tripping on a cloud. But it was all okay when the rift slipped shut and the soft boiled eggs sank in the bathtub.


How's your morning?

posted from Bloggeroid

Impossible? I think not.

"Nothing is impossible."


If we break down the grammatical structure of this sentence, we fine that is is impossible to have nothing.


"No thing is impossible."


If be break this one down we find that any 'thing' is possible.


With further thought we also discover that it is not possible to be or have nothing. Something (some thing) is always present.


Interesting conundrum.

posted from Bloggeroid