This world rewards the greedy...

Those that have are endeared by the masses as the divine.  The sacrosanct.  Unbefuddled by the realities of feeble necesity.  Want, requirement and pure pain.  We, that are limited by pure inability to achieve greater.  Perpetuality of income.  Perputuality of societal caste.  A definement of who we are by what we have.  Nothing.  Chewed and spat back out by the faux sincerities of a greatful nation.  No one to help you at your darkest.  No one to listen or give back in minute perfunctoriness.  Rage, o muse, pure and utter rage.

Finally done with soul sucking art class

Of course the fakers win.  All the talent got some parting shots from the teacher.  Fuck her.  Did my best to protect the weak as much as possible.

Here comes the summer of discontent...

Summer's beginning to start and with it the end of continuous schooling which means the end of VA money (which isn't very reliable anyway).  This summer is going to be extremely long and the wifey and I will both have to be looking for jobs to make ends meet.  As if we were making ends meet to begin with.  Living paycheck to paycheck sucks.  I'm a friggin' air traffic controller shouldn't I be making more?  Drastic times call for drastic measures.  Might have to move into a 2 bedroom again and voluntarily give back the Mazda to the bank.  That would hurt, but those are just material things after all.  I'd like to believe my family will be able to survive.  I don't know where this is going.  All I can say is fuck the VA and fuck Congress for cutting into my GI bill money.  Our degrees are now in jeopardy.  Thank you for your service.

Art or design class thoughts.

Been going to design class for the better part of 5 weeks now and have to admit it is disheartening. As someone that gave up art (or better yet had art/creativity beat out of him due to the military) it was very exciting at first to show off my talents in a classroom setting. But as the class has progressed, an old internal debate of artists vs fakers seems to have arisen.

A faker is someone that has no talent, but attempts art and calls themself an artist. This person may make convincing art, but to talented people who know better, it is not art and is the artistic equivalent of tracing. Someone that if you gave a pencil and a piece of paper, locked them in the room and said to create art, would not know what to do.

An artist is someone that is incredibly humble, does not call themselves an artist (as that is a title that is bestowed upon you by others), and has talent. They've learned on their own how to craft their trade initially and have fine-tuned their abilities. They can create something out of nothing, meaning out of their mind without looking at anything, or can recreate scenes/people in their own fashion. But most importantly, they are not Xerox machines.

Though I have been creating several pieces for this class that, in my opinion, have ranked high in artistic skills, each piece has been verbally destroyed by the instructor. The biggest faker in the class, however, has been getting praise left and right. It has been very hard and at times I have felt depressed. Just getting back into art after about 10 years and to have another soul stamping art teacher, like Ms. Buck, is enough to make me abandon it again.

But I know I have talent. The old man nurtured that talent and I feel the need to continue to explore it. In the mean time, I have to endure the abusive relationship that is art/design class. Just have to take it and keep my mouth closed.

Ugh.

Been busy with work, school and family to find time to update this thing. It seems mostly to be centered around monetary issues. Finding enough money for school and family is a constant pain. Fiduciary triage is necessary.

Anyways, I've kept up with the autocross thing and have finally taken the Mazda out for a Solo round and did the 1/4 mile in it at the Speedway. The autocross was a lesson in measured patience; so much work is to be had to drive the car quick. Much more work than the point and shoot nature of the VW. I was about 5 seconds off the times of everyone else and it was an extremely short course. Not the Mazda's forte, I'd say, but there was another person with the same vehicle that was with the gamut in times, so I'd say I need work as a driver.

The 1/4 mile was equally disappointing. Though the car feels faster, I got a lower relative speed than the VW as well. Very frustrating.

A friend asked what the point was with all that. What is the point of speeding or racing or the like. I never can answer well when someone asks me. I always blow it off like it's no big thing. And apologize. Oh it's dumb, yeah. Somewhat embarrassed that I'm equated to the losers on the street or the dick measuring contest that is the 1/4 mile. But the truth of the matter is: it is my release. I don't drink alcohol, I don't smoke, I don't even drink caffeine anymore. When I was mad before I used to go for a run or go lift weights, but now those don't do anything for me. Driving fast is my release. There's a certain amount of adrenaline that cannot be matched by any other activity. I have to feel a slight fear of killing myself to make myself feel alive. Squealing the tires in a turn over 70 mph, knowing you're this close to losing it all. That first time you had to input a bit of opposite lock. Enough in measure and the swoon is better than any drug.

First Autocross

Went to my first autocross on Nov 13th. It was the coolest fucking thing I've ever done. I was a little nervous at first. Didn't want everybody thinking I was a poser and was worried about the vibe at the event. I guess Midnight Mayhem at the drag strip made me somewhat apprehensive. It was definitely a dick measuring competition there, so I figured the autocross would be somewhat the same. It definitely wasn't.

For those of you that are unfamiliar, the Sports Car Club of America (SCCA) usually has regional meet-ups for people to drive their personally owned vehicles around a coned course. These autocrosses are usually time trial-like events with drivers only racing the clock. The course we used that day was in the same area as the Formula Drift competition two months earlier. Suffice it to say it was a big course. This is the only shortcoming of most autocrosses, since they are held in large parking lots the courses are usually small, running about 20-30 seconds from start to finish. Thankfully my first event was about a 90 second course. Perfect for me starting out as I wanted something to stretch the car's legs.

In the days leading up to the event, I came to the conclusion that if I was prepared and took it as serious as I could people wouldn't bother me that much. I practiced on the autocross maps on Live for Speed and drove the GTI hard to get reacquainted with the car's handling (it is the wife's daily driver, after all). I would be using the GTI because it was more mechanically reliable than the MazdaSpeed3, has newer tires, is more forgiving at the limit and could be run in automatic if I chose to do so.

The wife and kids came last minute to sit in the Mazda as a support car. It was fun driving around with Val on the way to the speedway, she'd gun the GTI a little, I'd catch up and make Vin Diesel comments at redlights (been trying to convince her to hoon a bit in the cars with me late night, cops be damned). The first sign that all my worries were unfounded came as we arrived late for registration. Everyone else was still somewhat bleary-eyed and moving at a leisurely pace. I heard several comments about how too damn early 7am was for an autocross. I got my stickers on the car, passed tech inspection and rented a helmet. Since I was a new driver, a walkthrough of the course was mandatory and gave a lot of insight. I had pad and paper out during the walkthrough and mapped out the course to the best of my ability. I started estimating the exit gear for each corner then stopped writing when I realized they all were pretty much 2nd gear turns. After a brief driver's meeting, I lined up the car and waited. Val and I had walkie talkies in each car from a prior road trip to communicate.

Everything I could possibly do, I had done. Changed the software on the car to 100 Octane ignition timing, filled it with 100, mapped out the course and placed that map on the dashboard for reference, went over and over the turns in my mind. I had 3 goals: don't spin out, don't get lost on track and don't knock over any cones. Basically don't do anything noob-ish. As I got closer to the starting line, 5 cars back, 3 cars back, 2, I began to feel the inevitable butterflies in the stomach from anticipation of doing something I've done virtually for hours on end to a reality in just a few seconds.

ESP off, helmet strapped on nice and tight, transmission in Sport (shifts faster than me anyways), lined up number 1, brake fully depressed, throttle to the floor, revs capped at 3000 for launch control. There was a right turn before the timing gate; any cones knocked over there turned into an automatic DNF. Green light waved, brake released and away the little Golf went! The throttle does still need to be feathered for the best launch. I killed the throttle for the right turn and the floored it after I straightened out. Don't know what speed I was at the first turn but a funny thing happened. All nerves completely disappeared and instinct fully kicked in. It was almost like a switch, 1 second it's there, the next it's completely gone.

Throwing the VW into the turns was amazingly gratifying. There was hardly a second on the track where the tires weren't screaming. Kinda felt bad since it's tires were pretty new, but damn it felt fantastic! On my second run, another driver asked to sit in the passenger seat with me. I told him it was my first event so I didn't know how helpful I'd be, but it'd be fun anyways. So I practiced the old "Top Gear" schtick of talking and driving hard. He kept asking me if it was my first time throughout the course, so I guess I left a good impression. We ran a total of 4 runs for the morning group. I had my best run the 4th time out. Ran 86.3 seconds. I left at about noon, not staying for the afternoon group.

After all was said and done, I turned in a decent time and accomplished all of my goals. Talked to some great people and had a fantastic and really laid back time.

Sad day at the speedway

Didn't expect my first Indycar race to go like it did today. Race was barely minutes long when almost half of the field got taken out:

Very different being there than seeing it on TV. Very surreal. Drivers were just getting into their groove and I was going to start timing some laps for myself with my phone, when the accident occurred. Everybody in the grandstands stood up after the first hit, expecting the normal crash, but one car after another kept getting hit. It was a pure holy shit moment. Of all the years I remember watching the old Indy series with Dad growing up, I don't ever recall a crash as bad as this one.

After being taken by MercyAir downtown, Dan Wheldon was announced dead 2 hours into the red flag. Here are my meager clips for austerity:

There's not much else to say.