Eat the cake, Anna mae!

Police academy life has been kicking my humble ass in every direction. For the first two weeks, the only part of my body that didn’t hurt was my face. My face will get thrown into the mix at some point, but for now I’m good. I was all scabbed up and bruised and I haven’t worn shorts in public since I started. My knees and shins are still purple. I looked down at my arms one morning and realized I looked like a Washington Blvd working girl. It’s too bad I can’t go straight to working vice with my arms looking this way.

The good news is that I am getting into some serious shape. After so many years behind a desk in a cubicle, I’d nearly forgotten what my body could do when pushed to its limits. It’s been painful and I’m acutely reminded of my age as I sloowwwly get out of bed at 0430 each morning. I just don’t recover as quickly as I did 15 years ago. The old girl is holding up though. Mostly.

The Big Reveal

Earlier in the year, I hinted at a making possible career change and I can now announce that the career change is official. After spending the last thirteen years in various corporate cubicles, most of them in the software development world, I will be entering a Baltimore Metro Area police academy next month. Crazy, I know, but true.

Anyway…

Blogging has been very light because I’ve been fairly consumed with this career change stuff. There have been ohhh just one or two things to consider and weigh heavily. The things I’ve had to do relating to this (almost) year-long application process have taken up a significant amount of time outside of my full-time job, which hasn’t left room for much else. The last few months have been especially intense. The time that I have had free, I’ve dedicated to working out and slowly rehabbing my bum Achilles tendon. I’m nowhere near where I want to be, physically, but I’m just going to have to suck it up and hope the tendon doesn’t snap on me while I’m having my ass kicked for the next six months.

I plan on blogging about my police academy experience, but I don’t know if I will do that here or at some other location. There will be plenty of laughs at my expense, of course, and probably so many humiliating moments that I’ll have a hard time keeping track of them all, so stay tuned.

I’ve Been Heeled

More proof that exercise is bad for your health:

I found out in mid February that I tore one of my Achilles tendons. I didn’t have the full rupture happen, thank sweet JAYsus. I knew the moment it happened that I had probably really hurt myself. It happened during one of my runs as I started running up a hill and then, out of nowhere, I felt like I had been shot in the heel. Like most other things in my life that I deem unpleasant, I thought if I ignored pain, it would just go away on its own. When it go to the point where I couldn’t slip a shoe on or off my right foot without bringing tears to my eyes, I thought maybe I should see a doctor.

So, it was no surprise when I saw my doctor and she just shook her head asking me why I hadn’t come in sooner. The tendon was fat and completely swollen and I had a dull bruise on the inside of my ankle that kept getting bigger. My heel hurt to the touch. The really nasty thing was that you could (and still can) feel the lumpiness of the tears just by rubbing your thumb up and down the one side of the tendon. Gross. I got really upset and angry after I left the doctor’s office and I cried like I did on the flight home from Norway when I realized that “What Happens in Vegas” was the in-flight movie.

I’m beginning week seven of physical therapy. I’ve been going after work for a total of 4.5 to 5 hours a week of Achilles tendon rehab. Lots of intense stretching and weird strengthening exercises, along with ultrasound treatments and astym treatments. All of the various treatments and exercises hurt, but the level of hurt has come way down and the lumpiness of the tendon is smoothing out a bit, thanks to the astym treatments. I’ve been given the okay to run again, but not more than 30 minutes at a time and absolutely no hills for now – even if my Achilles feels fine. I am running again, but with some definite discomfort. I’m up to a very leisurely 10 min. mile pace, but I guess I’ll take it for now. I never want to revisit the emotional low of “What Happens In Vegas” ever again.

Bureaucratic MorASS

This just in from the People’s Republic of Maryland: House Bill 1446.

Press release from the NRA-ILA below:

“House Bill 1446, a bill requested by the Maryland State Police to require the registration of ammunition at purchase, has passed out of the House Rules & Executive Nominations Committee and re-referred to the House Judiciary Committee for a hearing on March 19 at 1:00 pm.

This bill would require that any person engaged in the business of selling ammunition maintain extensive records on all sales, including the date of sale, purchaser’s full name, address, date of birth, and form of ID used, as well as the type and quantity of ammunition purchased. The bill also forces a business that sells ammunition to allow the inspection of the sales record by a law enforcement officer upon request. HB 1446 is tantamount to firearm registration, will do nothing to stop crime, and will only increase the size and bureaucratic scope of the Maryland State Police. If they succeed, they will no doubt be back wanting a background check or license to purchase ammunition as well. This bill must be defeated. If you think ammunition is hard to find now, just wait and see how hard it is to get if this bill passes.

Congress has tried ammunition registration in the past, only to discover that it was not only ineffective for law enforcement, but also completely unmanageable due to the sheer volume of transactions. Ammunition registration creates huge record keeping requirements and provides no useful benefits for law enforcement; which is why it was repealed under the Firearm Owners Protection Act of 1986.”

Source is here.
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Technological Advances

When it comes to my personal life, I tend to be way behind other people in the technology/gadget realm. I’m not sure why this is, but it could have something to do with being a tech nerd all day in my professional life. I guess the rebel in me has wanted to keep my personal life in the analog world as long as possible.

View From My Cubicle

There are many people out there who lead a miserable cubicle existence. I try to refrain from too much talk about my cubicle life because it’s really not terribly different from anyone else’s experience. Lately, I’ve been feeling a little bit like Milton from Office Space. Rather than move me to the basement, the powers that be put me in the row where the telecommuters sit when they actually come into town. Basically, it’s just me and a dot matrix printer chillin’ in the corner.

I’ve been sitting here for a while now and, since no one prints to the printer I sit next to, a lot of my coworkers are shocked when they see me in the break room. Some of them were sure that they heard I moved to Oregon. Others are certain that I had left the company a while back. Sad.

Recently, the IT department decided that the cubicles belonging to telecommuters are really good for storing crap. I’ve been a pretty good sport about the situation because I understand that space is at a premium. But lately the blight has been getting to me and making me feel less than inspired to do my best. No one informed me that my cubicle row was going to start accepting Section 8 vouchers. Let’s take a look:

Baltimore Slumlords Beware

I love when people from the neighborhood use public humiliation to deal with quality of life crimes. Sometimes putting in a 311 ticket with the city just isn’t enough and the only things that create positive change are shame and humiliation. It seems a fellow Pigtowner has been inspired to bring hope and change and unicorns and rainbows to the neighborhood by showcasing blighted properties and sharing property owner information. Behold Baltimore Slumlord Watch! I’m all a-tingle with excitement. Between Baltimore Slumlord Watch and Baltimore John Watch, maybe the “bad city element” will stay in the suburbs (or at least out of Pigtown).

Hope That We Can Change

Between the Ravens being in the playoffs and Rock of Love Bus finally debuting, I almost forgot that Inauguration Day is next week. Is it me or has the bumper sticker Obama-mania faded already? It seemed like everyone was all amped about hope and change two months ago, but I haven’t heard much lately. Even Facebook is all cricket-cricket and no one’s middle name is Hussein anymore. Why is that? Is it because change looks a lot like the Clinton Administration 2.0? Actually, since New Mexico’s Bill Richardson backed out, I guess we’re at Clinton Administration 2.1. 

For more reasons than there are words in the English language, I did not vote for Obama. That being said, Barry O. will be our new president in about a minute and, like a bad haircut, I can learn to live with it. After all, presidents, like bad hair cuts, are only temporary. I’d really like to see the Obama supporters put those platitudes into action, but I’m already seeing the ‘Yes We Can’ turn into ‘We May or May Not Be Able to Because It’s All Bush’s Fault’. So much for hope and change. I really hope that the next four years don’t turn into an extended dance remix of blame and excuses.

I know The Gays are mad because of the Rick Warren inauguration invocation thing and he does seem like a bad choice in light of the Prop 8 meltdown in California. The first time I was old enough to vote in a presidential election was during the ‘92 election. Back then, I was a non-thinking Democrat. I watched a lot of MTV and I believed what they (and Eddie Vedder) told me. I also believed that I looked good in work boots and flannel. And I distinctly remember that during eight years of Clinton and Gore, The Gays didn’t seem too interested in marriage. Then we had eight years of Bush and Cheney and suddenly The Gays wanted marriage. Why? What changed? Was it because grunge died and MTV turned into a hip-hop format?

Now “The One” will soon be our president and everything will be magickal. In the spirit of hope and change and unicorns and rainbows, I’d like to see The Gays really embrace diversity among their own kind and maybe make friend with lesbians who eat meat or with gay men who don’t like musicals. If we can’t accept each other, and the differences within our own community, we can’t expect The Straights to either. I’ve heard that some homosexuals aren’t even Democrats. We should reach out to those Gays. It’s rumored that not all of them live outside of the beltway or in the deep south. I guess the change that I hope for is that The Gays step out of their Gayhetto™ mindset over the next four years. It’s been said that 1 in 10 people are gay, so I guess that means 9 in 10 people, give or take (because of those wacky bisexuals), are straight. It’s not a conspiracy, my gay brothers and Sapphic sisters, it’s reality. Stop blaming the Mormons for c-blocking gay marriage. They only make up 2% of the U.S. population, which means there are more of you than them. Let’s remember where the blame really lies, which is on Catholics, rappers, and Elisabeth Hasselbeck.

Last Call 2008

Bloggage has been light, I know. This year has taken a bit of the fight out of me and I can’t say I’ll be sad to see 2008 go. I can’t recall a year when I’ve gotten so much bad news or a year when so many people died. I didn’t feel like it was appropriate to post details here because some things are best left confidential and other things are just too hard to articulate. It seems like I never quite got my feet under me in 2008.

That being said, I still manage to see the glass as half-full (preferably with Cabernet). Here are some of my 2008 highlights, in no particular order:

• I continue to get physically stronger and my runs are getting longer. I feel the best I’ve felt in the last ten years.
• I completed a 5K, which was a huge deal considering the state I had been in since 1998.
• I bought a new (used) car and I love it.
• Constant vigilance has resulted in our block being quieter than it was when I first moved here some years ago. It’s back to just the old timers, LF, and me which is what we all wanted.
• I went to the Big Gay Viking Wedding in Oslo, Norway, took a train and boat trip across the impossibly beautiful country, and got to explore Bergen, Norway as well.
• I had one of my stories published and possibly more in 2009.
• I got to see my cousin graduate from the police academy.
• I got to see another cousin get married.
• I’ve thoroughly enjoyed watching the collapse of journalism.
• Through the wonder and strangeness that is Facebook, I’ve gotten back in touch with a couple of old friends and it’s been a lot of fun.
• My grandmother turned 90 and laughed about it.
• My nephew turned 2 and started saying my name clearly.
• I’ve introduced some friends to the gun range and watched them nearly soil themselves with glee and excitement after they learn how to shoot.
• Steven Seagal has a reality show coming up in 2009.
• I am considering making a career change in 2009.
• Football season is not over for the Ravens.

I hope you’ve had more highlights than low-lights in 2008. Keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars in 2009. I love this town! Be sure to tip your waitress on the way out. Thank you and goodnight.

Civic Doodie #2

Today is my first day out of the penalty box known as jury duty. I was selected last Wednesday to be a juror for an attempted murder case. The case started Thursday and ended yesterday afternoon. It was the typical Baltimore type case where The Victim got his ass shot twice by The Teenage Defendant because The Victim decided it was a smart move to deal fake crack cocaine in The Teenage Defendant’s drug territory. The Victim and The Defendant were actually acquaintances prior to this shooting, so it came as no surprise when The Victim changed his testimony many many many times on the stand and suddenly decided he didn’t know The Teenage Defendant and was certain The Teenage Defendant wasn’t the one who shot him on the night of his very bad business decision.

The case was filled with all kinds of gaps and skips and The Victim’s improv testimony didn’t help matters. We had no other choice than to return a Not Guilty verdict on all seven counts of attempted murder, assault, and handgun charges. 

I had never been selected as a juror prior to last Wednesday and the experience was very eye-opening. I was very impressed with professionalism the judge and the state’s prosecutor. The prosecutor was so excellent and so focused and efficient that she had us all mesmerized. It’s just too bad that the case given to her was so weak. Actually, we (the jurors) were wondering how it ever got to trial. The most staggering thing about this case was the profound incompetence of the defense counsel. Never in my life, in any situation, have I ever witness such a degree of incompetence. Trust me, the verdict was returned because of the lack of consistent witness testimony and lack of evidence, not because of persuasive argument on the behalf of the defense. The defense counselor’s incompetence was so stunning that everyone in the courtroom was visibly cringing. We lost count how many times the judge had to reel her in and warn her.

I’ve never been a big death penalty supporter, mainly because the justice system is so flawed. I was sitting there looking at The Teenage Defendant and listening to his incompetent lawyer and all I could do was feel sad. (Did I type that?) I mean, this was just one courtroom in one city and it wasn’t even something like a death penalty case or a murder case. Everyone involved in this case is still alive, as of 5 PM yesterday at least. I got chills thinking about how many innocent people have been ruined by their incompetent lawyers? There is a chance The Teenage Defendant in this case was guilty, but also a chance he was innocent. He was fortunate that the evidence was so weak because his lawyer practically sent him back to jail just by attempting to “defend” him. Oh, and I feel it should be noted that this attorney was not a public defender.

I was very fortunate be locked in a tiny room with thirteen other people who were really cool. We all bonded and wound up having a pretty good time, in spite of the delays and the hours and hours we’d sit with no word from the courtroom. We did a lot of sitting, with bursts of standing on queue, and then more sitting and then more standing and then abrupt sitting. My Catholic upbringing more than adequately prepared me for the physical rigors of jury duty. The jury was an interesting mix of age, race, gender, and background and we could not have been more different. In a strange way, I kind of didn’t want it to end. When do we ever get the chance to sit in a room with other people, with no distractions, and actually have face-to-face interactions? There were no TVs or computers or muzak and only very minimal cell phone access. I was relieved to not be plugged in for four and a half days. I started to remember what it was like in Ye Olden Tymes when people used to make eye contact and engage in pleasant conversation with total strangers. The irony of the previous sentence appearing in a blog post is not lost on me, by the way.