I am no longer a terrorist; mom jumps for joy

When one receives a letter from the Department of Homeland Security one expects to open said letter, immediately see the front door fall to the ground as SWAT agents pour in like it's the Neverland Ranch and get a black bag put over one's head before the envelope is even open.

Or is that just me?

Let's back up.

Returning from a trip out to see my sister and brother-in-law in Philadelphia, I attempted to check my luggage at the airport curb. And by that I mean a 'nice' man in a knit cap with at US Air patch sewn onto it STOLE my luggage...for a tip. "Where you goin'?" he asked politely. "Kansas City," I replied, eyeing my bag as if for the last time. He types my name and destination into the computer. "Oh..." he says. "Yeah, you gonna hafta go talk to the ticket agent." "Why?" I ask. "Because y'all name on the No Fly List."

WHAT?!

Well that'll explain why I haven't been able to print off a boarding pass in advance and put up with additional security for more than a YEAR. The baggage attendant and I head to the ticket counter (he's holding my bag hostage for a tip by this point) to see what the hell is going on. He tells the agent my name. Type type type. "Oh," quips the agent. "It seems your name closely matches a name on the No Fly List," she says.

No shit.....Didn't the bag attendant just TELL you that?

"How close is the match?" I ask.

"One letter off," she replies.

My mind immediately wanders to all the potential-threat Petricks running free in the country. The audacity...

And that was that. I showed my ID, got a boarding pass and got on the plane. No harm no foul, right?*

No. FOUL.

I am not a terrorist, convict or 'person of interest'. And I refuse to be treated as such. So in my RAGE, what do I do? I fill out a form on the TSA website...four months later.

What? I have a life...

After about a month of forgetting I even submitted a copy of my driver's license and passport to Homeland Security, I receive a letter from said department. Three paragraphs down, after 'procedure this' and '9/11 that' I see it:

"We conducted a review...where it was determined a correction to records was warranted, these records were modified to address any delay or denial of boarding that you may have experienced as a result of the watch list screening process."

Translation: funny story -- we thought you were a member of the IRA or some deadbeat who didn't pay child support. Sorry.

The sad thing is, there was no apology. No 'sorry for the mix up' or 'our bad' or 'scratch one off the list!' Of course, this is the government...we set the bar low, right? So, okay, no apology. At least MAYBE I can avoid extra security on my trip next week.

We shall see.

The moral of this story:
In its attempt to protect and serve, the US government goes 10 extra miles and screws innocent people over and refuses to apologize. Same dance, different song.

*I know what you're thinking, and NO, I did NOT tip the bag attendant, despite his persistence. Would you tip someone who just informed you you were a threat to fellow air travelers? Me thinks no.

The New Gig // Looking Back

One week down at the new job and I've learned 5 things:
1. Being involved in search engine optimization means learned more acronyms than the military uses.
2. Turns out I still know how to do simple math! Who'd a thunk?
3. Going back to working on a PC after more than a year of not touching one means hitting Alt+c and Alt+v and nothing happening. This is repeated frequently.
4. Facebooking and Tweeting are part of my job.
5. My coworkers LOVE Sonic. God bless 'em.

So my first week back at work in 26 weeks went very well. Granted I've already forgotten 50% of my coworkers name and managed to call my boss by the wrong name (I blame that on my brain shutting down that morning), but otherwise -- success. I like my department. I like my desk. I like that I can walk over to the River Market in the sunshine and eat my lunch. It was a bit strange being back down in the market for the first time since I left downtown. All that flashed in my head were images of her. Shopping. Eat. Biking. Great days. We haven't spoken in a long time. After the first couple of days I was able to ease my mind.

It's incredible how finding yourself in familiar surroundings reminds you of so much. It's like driving through my grandmother's old neighborhood. Footage of eating Popsicles on my grandmother's screened in porch in the summer clicking like old super 8 film in my mind. The cool concrete floor painted the deepest green I'd ever seen. The wicker furniture. The smell of her house flowing from within out to spread around us. Or being back on the KU campus last week. Recalling the thousands of miles I must have walked during my 4 years there. Working at the UDK. Parking at "Fat Baby" and stalking a fellow student to nab their parking space. My own graduation and walk down the hill.

Fond memories mixed with painful ones. But we take the good with the bad. I like to appreciate the events I enjoyed in the past 1, 2, 4 or 6 years or more. Now, sadly, my grandparents have passed on to be reunited. My tenure in college came to an end as quickly as it began. And she is gone. Good or bad, events are impossible to control. I choose to admire the ones that made me smile. I choose to acknowledge, reflect and even sometimes avoid the ones that drew tears. But one thing is certain: without them, good or bad, I would not be the man I am today.

Happy Memorial Day.

Happy Dance

Five months, 28 days, six hours and 12 minutes. Thus is the length of my retirement, er, unemployment.

P done got himself a job. In ADVERTISING, no less!

I'll be doing what I do -- copywriting -- for the agency I interned for oh so many summers ago. This will be a challenge, a very welcome challenge. I'll be writing for the web, helping technical schools increase tuition. Which means I'll be helping people get the educations they need to earn more money for their families. I'd say that's more interesting than writing car or beer ads any day of the week.

I start Monday. No reason to prolong my absence from work. I feel really good about this. I was to the point of considering leaving the country to work come June if nothing picked up. Thankfully things did just that.

I'm not ashamed to say that given all that's occurred in my life these past few months that I hit rock bottom. The fall was remarkably painful. Something I wish upon no one. I was in a dark, lonesome place. A place where the only sound was the echo of my own voice. The light was distant. I strained my neck to look up toward it each day.

Rock bottom is an opportunity. Where do I have to go but up? When you have nothing left to lose you stand to gain everything. Getting a job, earning my own money and feeling useful is a major step up toward the light. Writing my own graphic novel is another. Working on the issues of my failed marriage -- learning from them most importantly -- is another. Soon my eyes will squint and my skin will tan I'm so close to the light.

I feel the warm light on my face. I breathe it in.

Ownership

I now own the domain www.secondbillthoughts.com. No more of this '.blogspot' business. Slightly new address, same great taste.

The Cancer of Love

We all know the Rock of love (which, by the way, is actually foot massages, NOT Bret Michaels). And sadly we all know the Cancer of love (similar to Bret Michaels...). I believe that each relationship, whether you're just starting out or have been married for years faces this disease.

I'm talking of course about RESENTMENT.

Resentment kills all of the following sentiments, slowly and agonizingly:

- love
- companionship
- communication
- appreciation
- expectations
- trust
- sex

Resentment also breeds the following:

- affairs
- baldness
- ignored elephants in rooms
- sexual frustration
- divorce
- divorce lawyers
- passive aggressiveness

In every relationship I've been in since high school resentment has been an issue. It's unavoidable. Somehow some way the person you're with will do something (or not do something) to piss you off. Then you won't bring it up. Then they'll mess up again in the exact same way because you didn't mention that it bothered you. Now you start resenting them because apparently they don't care about your feelings. But you never told them your feelings.

NOTE:
Ladies: men cannot read your mind, try as we might. The closest we can come is witnessing you say something like "it's no big deal," and then go to bed at 6:30pm just to get away from us. This results in an exhausted "Fuck." from your man who then proceeds to ask you what's bothering you. Let the dance begin.

Guys: try as we might to AVOID feelings, they matter. If you feel ignored, slighted or just generally pissed that your girlfriend flirted with a guy with a popped collar at the bar you need to let her know that's not okay. If you don't she'll do it again. Why? No consequences. If she doesn't know it upsets your FEELINGS then there's not harm, right?

See the pay off here? If we talk about this shit before it builds up inside of us then we can avoid repeating behavior that causes resentment. The best way to cure cancer is to never get it in the first place. Don't smoke. Don't live to be 100. Don't drin-- whoa, let's not get crazy here.

As I've said before, life's too short to spend it trying to make your lover's life miserable or let your lover ruin your life. Talk about what bothers you, even if it's as insignificant as him changing channels too fast or her farting on you while she sleeps. The more open you are the happier you'll be, the more hair you'll have, the less child support you'll pay and the less cancer you'll (probably...well, likely) have.

Thanks for reading.