Posts Tagged ‘college’


Firstly, I dedicate this blog to Barry, he is a good man who shamelessly admits that he reads my blog. He lives in the northwest with a wonderful lady, Brittany. Together, these two love puppies and promote the idea that all puppies are created equal and that all puppies are inclined to do good things; it is just their owners, who being less than dignified, nurture the darker qualities of aggression in animals. This is not their only good point I swear to you, but people who love animals, are almost always good people…it is what it is.

Let me begin by saying my caveman conversion is going well. The fact is, it is fun and the food is pretty damned good. During week two and three, I had this period of three days where I wanted to kill people at random. This is the delirium tremens from taking away processed food. The good news: nobody was killed, but I did lose my temper twice at work over things that a normal Heath would have only lost his imaginary temper.

My imaginary temper is what I can only describe as an escalation of force mechanism internal to the vast catacombs of my brain that allows me an in-between, a purgatory where I don’t have to operate at berserker levels, or a constant state of hyper emotionalism (hulk-smash). You see, I get wound up and I talk with my hands. It has its goods; people never have to guess what I am thinking, and generally, if you don’t have to guess what one is thinking then nobody ends up disappointed or surprised. I am sure it has bads as well, but I refuse to discuss bads when talking about my attributes…it just brings me down, ya know. My imaginary temper has ensured for years I have not been beaten to death by somebody around me, and I guess to a certain extent, it has protected those around me from me. In my head, in the same exciting place where all of my imaginary fights occur, 90 percent of what I want to say to people is filtered out and sent to a garbage bin located in one of the cortexes of my mind to be used in a blog later on.

At any rate, I lost my temper, but it was more like an unwinding where I just kind of disintegrate over something that would make anyone mad—I just do it like I am in a play. It is very dramatic and possesses some of the same qualities of interpretive dance, which I will have you know frustrates me. Interpretive dance is too whimsical and uncontrolled, lacking in structure. People doing interpretive dance should never admit they messed up, because even their mess-ups look like a move that someone, somewhere can describe as brilliant—the same way that abstract art by renowned artists, worth gillions, looks a lot like something I drew 15 years ago that my dad said sucked.

At any rate again, there were two distinct moments where I wanted frozen yogurt. I didn’t want frozen yogurt because it is a healthier version of soft serve ice cream either. I wanted frozen yogurt that I turned into a collage of all my favorite chocolate and peanut butter candy plastered to frozen yogurt backdrop by hot fudge. I wanted it to be a “pay-by-the-ounce” place, and I wanted three pounds. Again, these longings are the delirium tremens—the pangs of addiction to sugar. Delicious refined sugar. I prevailed, but it had more to do with the fact that my longing for frozen yogurt was only out dueled by my laziness. I knew my laziness would come in handy.

Whitney is also doing well. She continues the hunt for new recipes, and neither she nor I have brought any processed food into this house. I like it. I like not eating the stuff. She made Paleo Bread, which we devoured with happy hearts. For our snack this week, she concocted an Almond milk chocolate shake with 25 grams of protein. Are you picking up what I am putting down here? I like the food, and that is essential to lifestyle change. I must admit that Whitney has been an extremely active sleeper since going paleo, but I am reluctant to reduce this to a result of the lifestyle when it is probably just further evidence that one day, she will kill me in my sleep, while she herself is sleeping, and that said killing will be violent and terrible. This is Whitney, she kills while she sleeps.

Insert perfect segue to another subject here.

I am reading a novel now. I have started reading for pleasure again. I recommend everyone reading this start reading for pleasure again unless that means you stop reading my blog, and seriously, if you cannot get pleasure from my blog, why were you reading it anyway—that’s kind of weird. The novel is The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie. It is a terrifically written novel so far and fun to read, but you need to read some form of study guide with it to help you get all there is to get about everything this guy is saying. I am pretty sure that sects of Islamic people want to kill Rushdie for this work, so this only adds to the fun.

The second novel I am reading is written by my sister, S. E. Culpepper. For years, my sister seemed only placed on this earth to tell on me for things I did as a teenager. Hers was a police presence, but with time and work, she has transformed into the perfect heathen. She is extremely talented and has just released her latest book in the Liaisons Series. A quick disclaimer on her novel. If you are scared that you can somehow “osmotically turn gay” by reading a novel about characters who are gay, or if you feel like your soul will immediately burst into flames if it you read a book with gay characters, or if you are hoping that by ignoring the idea of gay people they will cease to exist, then this book is probably not for you. But, I am telling you, she is my sister, and she is a writer worth reading.

This is what is happening with me.

I just wanted you to know, because I have been holding it in for years.

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I have a degree in English, but it is a track of English that centered itself on 17th Century Literature.  This means that almost all of my English electives were spent in Shakespeare, Milton, or survey courses of the great writers of the era.  It was an awesome time and I really got to know some great professors.  However, I do not write this to brag, I write this to tell you what it qualifies me to do.  After receiving this four-year degree, I left college with great confidence that I could either be a waiter or an officer in the Marine Corps; I chose the latter.  Luckily, my wife has a degree in History, so our combined potential for success as is measured by monetary value is nil; this is not how I gauge success, however. 

You see the cool thing about a bachelor’s degree in general is that they are almost worthless.  Now couple that with it being a bachelor of liberal arts and you have your own license to irrelevance.  This is not to say that I don’t love my education, because I do.  It has given me a unique ability to smugly reference mundane quotes from the lesser read Shakespeare plays or sonnets.  Also, it has allowed me a certain pretentious ere of self righteousness when I say things to smarter people than me. 

I remember when I told my father what I was going to major in.  He, being a supportive and always positive individual, was quick to explain to me that I was “wasting my time,” and he continued with, “but that fact alone isn’t too surprising.”  That’s as close as you get to “I like it” from my Pops.  Well with all of the graduations, there are equally great commencement speeches.  It had me thinking about my dad’s comments to me on life and education.  I believe graduates of today are getting the shaft because they didn’t get to hear a commencement speech from my father.  So I offer it to you.  Pass it along to any you know getting ready to start life after school.  This is what I imagine it would be like if he were given the opportunity to speak.

Kids.  And I intentionally call you kids, because that is what you are to me; you are children.  It is not meant to insult you or make you feel inferior to me, albeit you are young and uneducated on the hardships of life, it is meant to let you see who you are.  You are children.  What makes you this, you ask?  Children all have one motivation.  It pervades everything they do.  Initially, it is not a bad thing.  We, as parents play on it so that we can solicit good behavior through incentive based training.  It is simple; children all seek the most immediately gratifying route—what is the most rewarding course of action with the least work and time required to reap the reward.  Those of you who shed this first will be productive.  Those of you who don’t, will not.  I don’t care if you believe me or not.  I expect you won’t, because you are children and you know everything.  For years my own children have relayed one important lesson to me:  given advice from a man like me, mature, aged, learned in the ways of hardship, struggle and adversity, you will discount the advice as jaded cynicism.  Fine, you are children and you are unbridled in your foolishness, I accept that. 

You’re here today to get your degrees and run off into the real world, but you wanted advice, right?  You asked me to be here.  Don’t just sit there, I asked you a question, but don’t speak into my left ear, I can’t hear shit out of it.  Well I already alluded to everything you need to know.  You want to pursue your dreams, great, go do it.  I am not here to kill your desires.  I am here to say one thing and that is, BE PRODUCTIVE MEMBERS IN SOCIETY.  Do your best to not leech off of others’ production.  I know you are all a bunch of liberals and that you are borderline communists.  Fine, I accept that, you are young and unbridled in your foolishness, but please remember this.  Even communism relies on the productivity of its citizens to succeed.  For a communist society to have any lasting power, every member must contribute in some way, shape, or form.  While you kids hide behind communism as a way to prop yourselves up, you’re missing the point.  Run from the idea that the world owes you something, because the world has a weird way of kicking you right in the ass while you wait.  I have given my son the same advice since he was old enough to piss me off, and here it is.  “Get a haircut and find a job.” 

I have raised productive kids; none of them are rich, but they are productive.  I don’t believe any of them feel like I shattered their dreams, but the fact is, none of them call me for money.  They have homes and families and kids and all of things that matter.  If you ask me why they are successful I would tell you that it started when they stopped whining and started doing.  They became productive.  I didn’t raise robots.  My youngest daughter is an insane liberal, but she is a productive and insane liberal.  My middle daughter writes romance novels about gay men, and I have read them and they are great.  She is not rich, but she is productive.  My son somehow developed a backbone and some balls and became a Marine….so far, so good.   They married productive people—people who all do great things with great attitudes.  They are not perfect, they are productive.

And here is another secret.  Don’t stop being productive.  You get older, your bones hurt and you want to stop.  I promise you this:  when you stop producing, you will stop living.  So, go on.  Get out of here.  Go and do.  Don’t waste your time standing around here, leave!   If you want to be a socialist, great, go be productive while doing it.  Remember that sometimes we do what we have to do, so that one day, we can do what we want.  The road we want sometimes doesn’t marry up with the road we have to travel.  Suck it up, be a man, get a haircut, and find a job…I just want you to know this, because I have been holding it in for years….