jennings rampage

My channel 1020 is on channel 592.

Progressive rock mastermind Alan Parsons once wrote: “We’re two of a kind, silence and I, we need a chance to talk things over. Two of a kind, silence and I, we’ll find a way to work it out.”

My brother has to work nights until February or so, since he’s been sent down to the mess deck for the rite of passage known as “mess cranking,” where all good sailors must put their lives on hold for 45 or 90 days (depending on their rate and value to the Navy) and slave for their fellow enlisted men and endure their shortsighted taunts (since just about everyone ends up cranking at some point). Jeff managed to find his way onto the night crew, which means less actual work and minimal taunting, but long and strange hours, leaving me here alone on Christmas Eve. It’s good preparation for when he leaves for his seven month sojourn to the Med and the inevitable theater of operations, ’cause then I really will be by myself.

His battle group is scheduled to deploy in early March, but he’s been “told” that it’ll probably be more like January. (I’m not buying it because it strikes me as a silly Navy rumor designed to correspond with the speculation that we’ll be invading Iraq around this time, but my brother treats his silly Navy rumors like the gospel, which probably shouldn’t surprise me.) When he does leave, I’ll be stuck by myself in Norfolk in a two bedroom apartment which I’ve been forbidden from having another roommate move into or moving out of myself until my brother returns sometime in September. At that point, I’m really not sure what I’m going to do for polite interpersonal interaction.

I’ve never been terribly good at making new friends, mostly because I make awkward first impressions and attract weirdos. (My mom and I used to joke that we had “If you’re really strange and annoying, come talk to me!” emblazoned across our foreheads.) The background noise of my life has been a cavalcade of unusual personalities I’ve called upon for instant entertainment, then sent home a few minutes later when they started to get annoying. (Which is why it was a mistake to move in with Chris Rutledge my sophomore year of college. Not that Rut was a bad guy, but when I sent him home he didn’t go far enough.) And like all of my friends, I’m really bad at staying in touch after I move along. (I haven’t spoken with Greyson Fischer more than twice since high school, and I suppose I feel a little guilty about blowing off Steve Shim’s e-mails after all those trips to Niagara Falls and the time he came up from Philadelphia to see a Syndicate show.)

Which is why I’m just a little leery of Howard Taylor. Howard is a product technician at the same undisclosed major electronics manufacturer where I’m currently employed, and lives right around the corner from me. He’s probably in his mid-30s, married, bears a remarkable resemblance to Kevin Mullaney, but has the same voice as what’s-his-name that hosted Unsolved Mysteries. (It’s a hilarious combination.) Howard made his way onto my “can you give me a ride to work?” rotation, and we soon discovered that we have a little bit in common — technical aptitute, distrust of government and organized religion, things like that. He’s mentioned that he has the feeling that this undisclosed electronics manufacturer is about to organize a web development group that he’d head up, so I’ve been sucking his ass pretty hard to try to get a plum new assignment. (I’ve also independently been told to not trust Howard further than I can throw him, but it’s worth the risk.)

The thing is, I think maybe Howard’s been getting the wrong idea, because he’s been coming on a little strong and rushing our relationship a bit faster than I’d like. As he was driving me home one night last week, I explained why the Game Show Network’s Friend Or Foe makes no sense from the game theoretic standpoint, and we discussed why our nation’s current foreign policy is leading us towards the end of civilization. (”Every generation is convinced it will be the last, but those others didn’t have as much hard evidence as we do.”) Howard asked if I was in a particular hurry to get home, which I really wasn’t since I was headed back to an empty apartment, but I couldn’t think of an excuse, so he drove me to his place to go over his plans for a wireless network in his house and sell access to his network to the neighbors. (Yeah, that old trap.)

We went over the specs for the access point and wireless NICs and print server he was planning to purchase, and it all seemed in order. (Of course it was in order; setting up a small wireless network isn’t quite rocket surgery.) I suggested he look at Linksys equipment instead of Netgear, even though it doesn’t matter much, just to make conversation and seem like I sort of knew what I was talking about. (I was faking it, just because these are the sorts of things that someone who would want to work in a new web development group would probably know.)

After that, Howard showed me around a bit. He had recently remodeled his kitchen, and told me all about how the appliances used to be in all the wrong places and how much dead space there was and how having tile on the countertops just didn’t work at all. We went into the living room, where I made a little game out of making sure that every piece of electronics was manufacturered by our employer. (It was.) Howard seems to have a little bit of a bald eagle fetish — two frightful oil paintings and several garrish ceramic sculptures. He was quite proud of the eighteen-inch high centerpiece featured prominently in his entertainment center, and even more proud that he only paid $40 for it. (I failed at the guessing game.) Howard continued to pick up everything in his tiny house and explain what a great deal he got on it, and I continued to feign at least as much interest as I should have. After about forty-five minutes of this, he finally offered to take me home, and I accepted.

So I guess I was a little surprised when Howard showed up at my house on Sunday morning, since he couldn’t remember whether or not I asked him to give me a ride to work. He just wanted to be sure I wasn’t stranded without a ride, which was pretty nice of him, if only slightly odd that he didn’t call ahead like many people would have. I was supposed to go over to his house today to buy an old computer for $50, but I just didn’t get around to it between cleaning house and preparing traditional holiday dishes in anticipation of the upcoming holiday. It’s not that I like sitting around here by myself, it’s just that I want to take it a little slower. Hopefully Howard will understand.