fighting chance

no really, it's a line from Magical Mystery Tour
Tonight is the Death Cab / Nada Surf show in SF. I’m gonna try and sneak my camera in with me and take some pix for tomorrow’s blog. After that we have the Wednesday show in SF, and then our concert rush is over for a while. I’m glad, because as much as I love going to shows, I get tired of being tired the next day. Too bad Sacramento can’t get the big indie names like San Francisco can, would be a much shorter drive.

This weekend was a good one for new tunes. Wednesday at work I read a Pitchfork album review of a group called the Unicorns, which garnered really high marks. Like clockwork, someone posted it to absmi that evening. I grabbed two Unicorns albums, and on Sunday Benz recommended I check absmi again for another favorably reviewed album by a group called the Wrens. Man, the Unicorns albums are excellent – and from my brief run at the Wrens it is also awesome. Those new albums, combined with the new hotness that is the Decemberists, makes November a watershed month for new music. Finally some sweet new tunes to listen to.

Speaking of Ben, he’s got some new pictures up on his website which are worth checking out. I’m kinda envious of the new Flash-based album layout, but whatever. Take a gander if you’re bored.

I have a pretty high tolerance for just about everything. If you charted my tolerance for stuff, I think it would look something like this. See, I get unnaturally crazy over some really dumb stuff – but can generally take commonly deemed “major” crises in stride. My car gets crashed into? Somewhere towards the middle of the graph, so taken very lightly by me. I lose my job? I’m upset, but not irrational. Actually, the “breakdown” axis is somewhat misleading in that I don’t mean it’s when I would be “broken down” in the sense of being mentally frazzled – I’m rather referring to a state of “breakdown” that would cause something like tears or irrational behavior. What I mean is, the things that tend to make me punch walls, say things I wish I hadn’t, cuss and swear when I shouldn’t – these are the “breakdown” or loss-of-control type things I’m talking about. If my truck got stolen, yeah I would waste a lot of brainpower thinking how sucky it is, but it wouldn’t push my buttons in such a way that I might lose control and throw things, or cry.

Things that would normally really piss someone off usually roll off me with ease (although that’s not at all a 100% thing). Likewise, things that other people might shrug off as “a bummer” or “no big deal” tend to really get under my skin. It’s a blessing and a curse. I can take so much without flinching that I’ve been praised before for my “level-headed” reaction to complicated situations, whereas I’ve also been criticized for letting stupid little things make me fly off the handle. Sharaun probably sees it the most.

I tend to be my most calm and logical-thinking right after something “terrible” has just gone down. It’s like I get this moment of clarity where I realize that whatever just happened really isn’t that big of a deal, and then my brain kicks in and starts thinking on what to do next. However, when something small happens, it seems like my brain forgets logic and tells my fist to punch an inanimate object or my mouth to say something I’ll regret. Hit a kid on a bike?: Stop the car, deep breaths, save his life and get in the newspaper. Hit my thumb with a hammer?: Yell cursewords at the top of my lungs, throw the hammer at the ground, and punch the wood I’m working on. See – it’s not the best approach to things. Even more stupid, my response to unexpected pain is to do something without thinking that more often than not causes me even more pain. Example? I stub my toe on the door, get insanely mad because it hurts, punch the doorframe – and hurt my hand.

I think, nay know, that my tolerance for stuff came directly from my dad. I lived with my folks until I was almost 20, and in that time I rarely saw my dad get mad. In fact, if I think about it – I bet he’s the exact same way. I’ve seen him crazy-aggravated over tiny things; and then seen him take big, seemingly earthshattering, events without so much as a hitch in his getalong. This laissez faire attitude rolls over into all aspects of my personality. Not much upsets me, and you have to do a heck of a lot to provoke me to anger, even more to get me to manifest that anger into violence. I’ve been in only a few fights, but I think I’ve won them all because I am so fired up by the time I’m moved to hitting that it’s pure adrenaline. Either that or because I’m fat and always have a weight advantage… Here’s a semi-complete pictorial review of my fighting history:

6th grade: I punched this kid because he would not get off the computer and I wanted to use it.

6th grade:  I punched this kid because he cut in front of me at the water fountain.

7th grade: I punched this kid because he tried to take some candy off my desk.

12th grade (no pic avail):  I fought this kid because he pushed Sharaun. She helped out by kicking him in the ribs while I sat on him and repeatedly punched the back of his dome. We both got suspended.

Well I wrote three paragraphs but I’m not convinced I said what I wanted to say at all. I’m a pacifist, but not a weakling. I’ll send my food back if it’s wrong, but I’m not an asshole. Rather than confront you, I’ll ignore you. I’ll talk about you behind your back, but rarely tell you how I really feel. I’m longsuffering, but won’t let you walk all over me. The less I like you, the less likely I am to get into a “fight” with you. Conversely, the closer we are, the more likely I am to be willing to get into it with you. There ya go, that’s all I gotsta say about that.

See, no stories from 8th grade. No love letters, no drug overdoses. Just writing. I can do it after all.

Dave out.


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5 Replies to “fighting chance”

  1. I couldn´t help but noticed that only 25% of your beating victims were members of your same ethnic group. Could it be that, in spite of Dave´s quasi-level-headedness, a seething racist mind lurks under there? Of course, I don´t know the race of victim #4, since that´s not his real picture, but I´m guessing that he looks at least somewhat like Muhammad Ali.

    BTW, it is both hilarious and disturbing to me to picture sweet Sharaun kicking some kid in the ribs while you pound on him. You two must have been some kind of Bonnie & Clyde couple in HS.

  2. shaine, if i hadn´t left in 5th grade maybe you wouldn´t have got beat down so much in the 6th 😉

    i coulda punched ´em for ya, but i´m sure you held your own. we were, after all, the two coolest 5th graders ever.

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