Beetle Bailey and Garfield and Blondie, OH MY!

Today I did something I haven’t done in a long time. I sat at the kitchen table and read the Sunday Comics. It may seem sort of inconsequential, but it was something I used to do every Sunday morning before having to get ready for church. Oddly enough, the comics really made me think.



Yes, they really did. It sounds weird, but hear me out. I moved back to East Texas almost exactly a year ago. After four and a half years of living elsewhere, it was much more difficult, and unexpected, than I had ever imagined. It is really weird moving “home” to somewhere that didn’t feel like home anymore. Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a blast since I moved back and have made some great friends. It is just weird remaking memories in the same places you already have made a lifetime of them. Mixing nostalgia with the present I guess.

Anyway, as I sat there and read the comics, I realized that the characters I read about when I was a kid had all stayed exactly the same. Epiphany? Maybe. But it really made me realize how much I had changed since I used to sit at the same table all those years ago (I say as if I’m older than 23…)

I made it through high school, graduated from high school, moved to Bama, graduated from Bama, moved back to E.Tex, got a “real job,” quit my “real job,” done a lot of living in between and am moving to New York in two weeks. All that, and freaking Marvin is still in diapers. But that wasn’t the only thing that had stayed the same in the comics.

The Lockhorns’ marriage is still continually falling apart. Maybe all that marriage counseling won’t work.

Beetle Bailey is still getting beat up by the Sarge. Man up, Beetle. Man up. And why is the Sarge always so angry in the first place? Pent up sexual frustration perhaps?

That slut Michelle STILL won’t go out with Curtis. Give up, man. She’s probably really sketchy anyway.

Snuffy Smith is still an accurate depiction of how trashy, lazy people who can't get over the 1800s live in America. Corncob pipe, lack of utilities and all…

The Family Circus still disgusts me with its “cuteness” and overtly right-wing agenda. :)

Garfield will forever be one of the only cats I will ever like.

Sally Forth is still boring. Really boring. Let's face it, middle-class white people living normal lives just aren't that interesting.

Dagwood still hasn’t been fired from his job. And likes to take naps, and his neighbor still has a creeper mustache.

Hagar is still horrible.

Dennis is still a menace.

And Slylock Fox still solves petty crimes. Today however, there was a typo in Slylock Fox. It makes me wonder how he can figure out what drives Cassandra Cat to criminal activity, but can’t figure out how to make a subject and verb agree.



I guess that’s why so many people enjoy reading the comics. No matter what happens in their lives they always know the same smiling, never-changing faces will be waiting for them on Sunday morning. But seriously, how the hell has Prince Valiant managed to stay in there every week? I mean does anyone actually read it?

I'm Moving to New York City

“It comes down to reality-and its fine with me cause I’ve let it slide,
Don’t care if its Chinatown or Riverside,
I don’t have any reasons; I’ve left them all behind
I’m in a New York state of mind.”

—New York State of Mind, Billy Joel

How come it always seems that no matter how you feel or what you want to say, it’s probably already somewhere out there in a song. Billy Joel pretty much nails it, “I’m in a New York state of mind.”

Translation: I’m moving up there.

Yes, I’m moving to New York City. After nearly a year back in East Texas (a move I never thought I would ever make) it is time for me to pack up and move out again. A spot opened up at a house with some very cool people (shout out: Josh, Allison, Carole and Gina) and I decided to jump at it. I’ll be moving up there sometime the first week of November. These things take planning, and I haven’t nailed down the final move date yet J I do know my final day at LETU will be October 22. Mark your calendars people, I expect many a free lunch between now and then...jk

No, I don’t have a job yet, but I do have plans and that counts for something. I will follow in the recent footsteps of the great Josh Mallory and Gina Miller and make the move sans-job. All of that will work itself out, I have faith that it will…who knows, maybe I’ll decide a coffee shop or book store will suit me just fine haha. All I know is that I will be doing something I have always wanted to do…live in New York.

And here’s the tie back to the beginning sentence about songs…Lou Reed sang, “New York City is the place where they said: Hey babe, take a walk on the wild side.” And even though Rilo Kiley was singing about California when they said this, they couldn’t have said it any better:

“I’ve got my best shoes on, I’m ready to go.”

Chapters...

Someone at work the other day was talking about how their mom once told them that she could remember at least 10 different people she had been throughout her life. She didn’t mean that she had physically been ten different people with new names, new identities and a different life for each. What she meant was that there had been 10 phases, chapters if you will, that summarized her life.

I didn’t ask for details, partly because my mind had already started to run down a bunny trail of thought about how that line of thought would make a great book. Each chapter details a different chapter of your life. Each one introducing new personality traits, experiences, supporting characters. How many chapters could I fill up I wondered.

Of course you would have to start with baby Kyle. I don’t actually remember this chapter from personal experiences. I have seen many pictures and heard a lot of stories of my childhood. My mind has combined the two to where when I see a picture of myself as a child and I see it play out how I imagine it would have. I see myself climbing to the top of the tallest slide in the park across from the house I lived in out in Odessa, TX, when personally I have no recollection of this. Even though I had just learned to walk, somehow I climbed the tallest slide out there. From that moment on, I climbed everything…The climbing chapter.

I would outline many of the other chapters I can see in my own life, but why post all of my book material on here? :) Maybe I will start writing that book soon…think about it though. How many chapters do you see in your own life? It is a fun thing to really analyze how different you are from each chapter in your life. The new characters you have met, the traits you have picked up, the plot twists and turn of events.

As far as the chapter I am in now? I guess it started almost a year ago when I moved back to Texas…so far this chapter alone would fill up an entire post, so I’ll spare all of the details for now. Each chapter is new and different, and even though there are past chapters with the same plot settings (East Texas) as this one...it has been as different as the chapter(s) about Univ. of Alabama Kyle.

Who knows when the page will turn and start a new one…

Speak clearly into the receiver, "f-r-u-s-t-r-a-t-i-o-n."

It dawned on me the other day that it has been close to 5 years since I’ve been to the doctor. Seemingly healthy, I continue just to live out my daily life as be. While in college, I would visit the medical center from time to time to get an antibiotic when I felt a cold coming on, or to have my knee checked out that one time I thought I messed it up trying to cross the road (don’t judge me…I was trying not to get hit by a car and I planted wrong).

Being the forward-thinking individual I am, I decided to schedule an appointment here in town just to play it safe. I asked a few people whom I should call, and several people mentioned a general practice physician: Dr. Sita Devulapalli. Yes. Fifteen letters. (That’s the literary element known as foreshadowing there kiddos)

Not knowing, and never previously caring, I decided to call my insurance company to inquire if a visit to Dr. Devulapalli’s office would be covered in my plan. I finally locate the 1-800 number on my insurance card and dial away. I would still like to meet the person who thought using 6 point font on a wallet-sized card was a good idea. I’m not even old and it took me a few minutes to make out what the number was.

There’s a lot of debate right now about universal healthcare—some say everyone should have equal access while others disagree and think we should tweak the system in place…all I want is to never have to deal with a machine over the phone again.

The computer generated voice seemed friendly enough to begin with. “Hello,” it greeted me cheerfully. “Welcome to your insurance provider.” Smooth sailing, I thought. “Please listen to the following menu for your options.” Some of the things they included together as options still have me shaking my head in wonder. “If you have an inquiry about the coverage your company provides, or wish to add coverage for sexually transmitted diseases, press one.” Whoa. What if I press one, but the phone cuts out? Will this friendly voice on the other line forever think that I, Kyle, am somewhere out there on pins and needles wondering if my monthly Valtrex prescription will be covered? You may laugh, but you know they track your phone number.

After successfully maneuvering my way through several menus, still under the direction of the friendly voice, I hear the option I needed: “If you would like to search for a specific doctor in your area, press two.” It felt as if I began to round the corner of the track and sprint towards a victory…but then the computer opened its stupid mouth again.

“Do you know the name of the doctor you are looking for?” I was calmly asked. “Yes,” I said clearly into the phone. “Good, please spell the doctor’s last name, letter by letter.” I was scared, but gave it my best shot, “D-e-v-u-l-a-p-a-l-l-i.” The uncomfortable silence worried me. “I’m sorry,” my computer friend said as if I had failed it. “I didn’t get all that. Please spell the last name again, and more clearly.” The one time I call a customer service line and the person on the other end isn’t in India—I’m trying to spell an Indian name. How’s that for irony?

Unwilling to be deterred from my future health and well-being by a computer, I carefully spelled the name again, “D-e-v-u-l-a-p-a-l-l-i.” Surely this time it would understand. Surely, I was wrong. “OK,” the computer said in a flinching tone. “This time, say only the first three letters, and hit the pound key after each letter.” I felt like I had inappropriately been put into the slow class at school. Little did I know, the horror was far from over.

“D,” I forcibly yelled into the receiver as I hit the pound key thinking the cocky computer would feel it. “If you said B, as in boy, press one. If you said T, as in Tom, press two. If you said V, as in vase, press three. If you said E, as in Eagle, press four.” This seriously happened. Surely it was just be taunting me at this point. I mean, I was already over ten minutes into the phone call. I envisioned a man named Will crouched around the computer; he wore horn-rimmed glasses and called out to his buddy across the room, “Hey Carl! We have a yeller!”

The overwhelming urge to give up began to sweep over me, but then I remembered that I’m an American, and if I were to quit, it would mean the terrorists are winning. I used my middle finger to threateningly push the star key signaling that I obviously am not able to properly pronounce the fourth letter of the alphabet I memorized some 19 years ago. “D!” I was screaming at this point. The stupid voice finally recognized that I had said D as in dog. “E!” I screamed even louder. The computer had the nerve to ask me if I was finished saying the first three letters before I even had the chance to hit the pound key. Again, not a joke.

I appreciate technology as much as the next person, but when it begins to cop an attitude with me, I get pissed. For a split second, I actually wished I were talking to a Furby—it was that bad. The blood began to boil inside me. I could feel my heart rate start to increase. I wondered if the computer was trying to make me have an aneurysm and force me to pay the insurance company money.

I could see the computer’s face. Taunting me with its questions, “Please start over again and say the first three letters of the last name of the doctor you wish to search for.” I cannot remember the last time I was this frustrated. I again contemplated just giving up, but like I mentioned, I’m an American. Obviously my silence bothered the bastardly invention as it began to ask me again to say the three letters. “I’m here you idiot!” I nastily quipped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that, please repeat the first three letters of the doctor’s…” I cut it off in mid sentence. “F!” the rage came out. “U!” my fist clenched around the phone as I continued to scream at it this time instead of into it. “C!” no machine would get the best of me. “There’s three letters, if you’re so smart, you figure the rest of it out!!” I slammed the phone down. I imagined Will and Carl taken aback by the anger. I wondered if they figured it out. I hoped the computer got a virus. My twenty-minute verbal fiasco was over, and I had failed to properly spell three letters for a computer.



I quickly became ashamed that a computer had frustrated me so much, and quietly began to watch TV again, glad that no one had been around to witness my meltdown. You see, I normally never react to anything like that. I contemplated calling the computer back to apologize; after all, it had been friendly in the beginning. Ultimately, I decided not to though, I shuddered at the thought of having to spell “I-M-S-O-R-R-Y.” How would it know where to put the apostrophe?

I still haven’t scheduled a doctor’s appointment.

The Light at the End of the Tunnel is a...

One of my favorite professors @ Bama once told a story during class about how he almost died on the operating table. “I started to drift away,” he said. “I began to follow the light I saw at the end of the tunnel.” Ahh, the proverbial light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel story...just like a Hallmark channel original movie, only in my PR class.

“I walked closer and closer to the light, and then I saw what it was.” Anticipation was everywhere. The sorority girl who had been previously texting and loudly chewing her gum now had her head slightly tilted with lips parted—giving the piece of blue wintermint a much needed rest. The old lady in class (you know who I’m talking about, the one in every class) had furiously transcribed every word of the story to this point and now had her pen firmly pressed into the sheet of college ruled, eager to jot down the wisdom that would surely come. The football player, well, hadn’t come to class yet…

“The light at the end of the tunnel is…” magical, I thought. Nope. “A disco ball.” Say what? “The light at the end of the tunnel is a disco ball.” At this revelation, the half-open mouth closed around the blue wintermint, ending what few moments of solitude the gum had. The old lady in class continued to furiously note every word, nodding in agreement as if she had stood right next to the professor and saw the semi-afterlife disco ball as well. The football player…still wasn’t in class. And me? I smiled.

In some ways, my professor’s near-death experience can be applied to my blog. It slowly begins to die and starts inching closer to the light at the end of the tunnel, which we now know is a disco ball, then it comes back to life. I’ve had several people tell me I need to update my blog…I just haven’t gotten around to it. Maybe it has to do with the fact I write stuff all day at work and just don’t feel like it afterwards, or it could just mean that I need to update it while I’m at work…shh. So everyone marvel at the new banner I made for the top of my page…”Ohh, ahh.” That’s right.

And if you can read, you can see it’s been nine months between the two updates here on the ESOTKM. There are plenty of things, trips, excursions, etc. to fill a couple more posts (I even got a job). I promise to update more regularly. And if not, you can join my blog in a few months as it starts that long walk to the end of the tunnel. Be sure to bring your platform shoes though, this here blog likes to dance to ABBA!