First podcast and my future...

SO, I finally started graduate school. I had always planned on going back sometime, I just wasn't sure where or for what. Well, Mass Communications finally offered a course that I was really interested in, a Video and New Media course. Basically, it is a class including a lot about video production. It was because of this course that I finally started to go back, and since I was working full time at Tech and get a free class each semester, I figured I would just stay at Tech.

Unfortunately, in a sense, I will be leaving my job in Mass Communications. Basically I am being forced out of my position because they (the dean and other faculty) want to do more with my position. They want it to be more involved with the newscast that is supposed to go on each day and to teach a course. Well, I have no experience with news or news production, which is something they want, and I cannot teach a course because I do not have the required experience or degree. I COULD teach a course; I have essentially taught the photo studio class the last two semesters; but because I do not have a Master's Degree Mass Communications will not let me teach.

They (the dean of the college of Mass Communications) say they can offer me a graduate assistant (GA) position starting in Fall, however I would have to be a Mass Communications Master student.

Let me explain: I always knew that if I went back to school that I wanted to learn new skills and improve on the ones I have. While getting a Masters in something like Mass Communications will help me with this, I will not learn much. Most of it will be research based and I would not learn many new skills.

I am looking at the Interdisciplinary Studies program. This will allow me to take more creative/production courses like photography courses, design courses and video production courses. Also, I do not have to do research.

So basically, I have a meeting tomorrow, Thursday, with the Dean and Associate Dean of the College of Mass Communications. It is here that I will turn in my letter of resignation effective after Summer II.

I know if I stayed, and they have made this clear because I am under qualified for what they want, I would eventually get fired.

I thought about lying and doing the graduate assistant position until they found out I wasn’t in the Mass Communications Master Program. But then I realized now is my chance to leave. I have not been happy here for a long time and have wanted to leave for quite some time just never had the money. Well, I still don’t have the money but the time is right. With the GA position they cannot guarantee what I will be doing each semester and they cannot guarantee summer work.

I do not know what I will do after that. I would like to at least finish my Masters at Tech especially since I know so many people here and I am also working on a side photography business, Triad Photography, with two other people here and things are really starting to pick up.

Will finally escape the Bible Belt? Maybe it is time.



Also, I finished my first video podcast I did for my graduate class. It isn’t that great, but this is the "finished" product. I recorded the audio too low and even with pushing it all the way up in editing, it is still very low. Also, there are a lot of jump cuts at the end that I just now learned how to fix. It was a learning experience and I am looking forward to doing my next one. I hope you enjoy it...

Country Bumpkin Ding-Dang-Diddlies his Way to the Big City

So, this here yokel is damn near to deciding that he's going to move to New York City. Now, this doesn't imply that I've really given it much thought, cuz I haven't.

I've just decided.

Or, almost, kinda-sorta-maybe decided.

Now is the time in some blogs when the writer might ask for advice. But tell you what, I'm not going to do that, because honestly, I wouldn't listen. What the hell have you people done for me lately anyway, huh? (please, send money)

Not once in my life have I done something that really scared me, and in most cases I don't take chances. I played the lotto once, lost, it broke my heart, and I haven't been able to put myself out there like that again because I'm afraid of getting hurt. True story.


My current life in Alpine, Texas has not been bad, but that whole thing about not being able to go home again, well, I suppose I'm living the cliche. Things are strange and alien here, and in fear of keeping the cliches going, I feel like I'm losing myself. I don't even feel comfortable around old friends, ones I was sure with whom I could easily fall back into some sort of rhythm. But being back has me also questioning my own mind, who I am, and my abilities. An overall questionable mental health prevails. Paranoia, I fear, might have forced me into seclusion with my cats.

In their defense, they are pretty cool cats.

But this is not about the present. This is more about a radical future. Shit, for that matter, any future. Right now it's septic tanks, thousands of gallons of human waste week in and week out, sweat falling off me as this mama's boy struggles to maximize his shovel's efficiency.

On a side note, did you know you shouldn't flush condoms down the toilet? You should know that. Especially if you have a septic tank. Man, you'd be amazed what we find in the old ones we have to replace. (my boss told me about a lady who learned about her teenage daughter's sexual debauchery when she was able to see for herself the large amount of prophylactics in their septic tank. people are fucking stupid man)

But I wonder, are there gigs in New York City where i can participate in paid laboratory tests that are trying to get to the bottom of self-loathing, potentially using it as an alternative fuel source? I can power at least two boroughs. You know, if the science is available.


An old friend of mine lives there and his wife works for martha stewart. I'm thinking that's my in. That way I can seduce Martha and get her money. Plus, she can bake me a cake to get the awful taste of lost dignity out of my mouth, after doing the things (anything) I'm willing to do for that hot, sexy cash. And besides, she's not a bad lookin' lady. I'm sure she wouldn't say no to a young love slave of some sort.


Another point of concern: Are handlebar mustaches allowed in New York? Or did Guliani ban those as a part of his aggressive enforcement-deterrent strategy to crack down on crime?

That's a big concern for me, and a possible dealbreaker. (more on my mustache later. it's deserving of it's own blog post. maybe even it's own blog.)


If New York is indeed a decision I make, I figure I should have some sort of plan. You know, something to fall back on if Martha Stewart somehow manages to resist my advances, however dashing and gallant they would certainly be.


Already on my list of options is a well-paying freelance writing gig, as related to me by the same chap with the martha stewart-connected wife.

And how New York is this - it involves writing synopses of porno movies. It's funny because another friend, one who has rather philanthropically offered me futon rights in his apartment, had a similar first job, where he wrote product descriptions of sex toys to be sold online. Now, I'm not sure how resume-building such employment would be, but the pay is allegedly good. Plus I'm sure momma would be proud, along with every writing teacher who ever praised me.

It would certainly be a challenge. I mean, there are so many new writerly questions and obstacles. Do the back of porno movie DVDs follow AP style? Or the MLA format? I better get to researching these things, lest I embarrass myself while talking to a possible employer.

Mostly I fear that I would run out of synonyms for 'explosive cumshot.' (concussive orgasm? artilleryesque...umm...Pollock-esque.......I'll stop there.) But perhaps I'm projecting far too grammatical and literary eyes onto the fans of such entertainment. (Ha, I can see myself fretting over whether people were actually reading my work. Like: "But...but, do they understand me? Did they pick up on that Hemingway allusion in the last paragraph?")

All in all, I couldn't turn down a job that offered me the opportunity to, frustratingly stooped over a laptop trying to compose copy, yell to a roommate, "Quiet, dammit! I'm trying to work here!" over the background ambience moans of Gluteus to the Maximus.

moving sucks. life decisions suck. then you die.

So, for those of you that don't already know...or for those that care to know...I have moved to a different house.

Still in Lubbock. Still in the Bible Belt. Don't worry, I may not be leaving for a while.

Back to the moving part...

I would say I was pretty happy with where I was living. It was a pretty central location in Lubbock. Decent neighborhood. Nice neighbors. Oh, we had a Korean Baptist church across the street and on Sunday's after church we would sit in our front yard and watch them play ping pong in the church parking lot...very shibby! I paid about $400 total a month ($300 rent + $100 bills roughly) which wasn't great, but was affordable; plus having an extra room for whatever made it worth it. I planned on staying here until I left Lubbock; I was no longer in a lease and could leave whenever I wanted/needed to.

The our landlord starting having health issues. Basically, he is pretty close to
kicking the proverbial bucket. I feel bad because he is a good guy. Granted, he took a while to get shit fixed around the house, but still...a good guy. Well, because of said health issues, he was moved into a old-person hospital. Basically, a retirement home type thing. Sucks. Well, we kept paying rent by simply giving the rent check to his wife...who took them without thinking twice. We then started having some minor problems around the house. Our bathroom lights went out (not just the bulbs like something electrical) and our screen door pretty much got ripped to shit by some of the bad wind storms we have had. Both minor inconveniences, we (Eric and I) figured out ways around the problems.

I mentioned the problems to the landlords wife and she knew nothing. She told me she would try to ask the landlord, but guaranteed nothing. This went on for about three months. Finally, since we weren't in a lease, I figured the best situation was to move out. I was afraid that if something major happened (ac goes out, major leaks, etc.) she would know and do nothing. Well, the second I mention moving out to her, she very quickly gives me the number for the landlords son, the son who has been taking over the rent houses they have. WELL FUCK!! This would have been great information about two months ago. I could have called him and gotten shit fixed and not moved out. Well, I then find out that they are turning over the house to a leasing agency. I then reassure myself that it is time to move out. I was sure that if we stayed, we would be forced to sign a lease and they (the leasing agency) could possibly raise the rent.

I would have stayed, but I do not want to sign a lease anywhere. I don't know when I am leaving Lubbock, although it looks like later than sooner, but I do not want to be tied into a lease.

So Eric moved into a pretty fucking sweet efficiency. This efficiency was once a pool (with water type pool) house and was converted into said efficiency.

I moved into a house with my friend Kyle. It is a pretty sweet deal. I would stay a long or short as I wanted. It is closer to work (I could ride a bike if it hadn't been stolen). And it's the same I was paying at my old house.

Now I hate moving. I mean hate it.

Sure, there is the whole "starting over" aspect. And it gives me a chance to get rid of a bunch of shit. Especially since the house I moved into is fully furnished.

But I am lazy. I waited until the last minute to move. I really didn't pack much. It finally got to the point where I just started throwing shit in my Jeep and going. I will mention, having a Jeep made it a little easier to move, although I still needed the assistance of David and his truck. Well, like I said, because I waited so long and pretty much threw shit in my Jeep I didn't go through much. I have been doing that lately, once I got everything out of the old house.

Fuck, this has been a pretty depressing weeks. Apparently, I held onto a lot of shit from my past. Here is a list of some things that I found that really put me in a bad mood:

- pictures of family - back when things were good, everyone was healthy and happy.

- pictures of my dogs which we no longer have - I know it may sound gay but since my parents raised Golden Retrievers and I had no brothers or sisters, the Goldens kinda were my siblings. I would run around with them and whatnot. One of them actually played soccer with me...I'll have to explain later. But they were great. I always felt happy with them.

- pictures of deceased family and friends - I think this one pretty much defines itself.

- senior high school yearbook - now this isn't that big of a deal, although I kinda miss those day, but it reminded me that all my other yearbooks along with all my childhood pictures, etc; families belongings; family memories; basically everything that me and my parents owned was in a storage place that gotten broken into and everything was stolen. So basically, all we own is the few things we have had for about the last five year. All our physical memories, except for what we have for the last five years, are gone.

- unused college graduation invitations - basically this was a reminder that I really haven't done much with my life in the three+ years since my graduation. In fact, I am still working in the same department that I got my degree from. Sure, I am doing something and my be impacting some students somehow, but I feel like I have done nothing. When I was in high school, I was making about 50k a year just bartending. I would go back, but the place I made this much money at has been closed...for several reasons.

- pictures of my ex gf - I do not know why I still had them stashed away. But they helped me remember how things are now...sad and lonely. Damn cheating whore.

- many other little things that just made me remember my past and how much happier I was then.

I mean, I always knew moving was a pain in the ass, but I never know how depressing it could be.

I am still slowly in the process of unpacking and honestly don't want to finish. The idea of living out of boxes for a while seems like an interesting concept to me. Unfortunately, with the amount of crap I still have, this will be somewhat impossible.

Plus, there is no telling how long I will be staying here in this house.

I had a plan. And I was going to follow it no matter what. Move out of Lubbock in January. Great plan. If I didn't find a job elsewhere, I would head to Dallas; surely I could find something there.

Then more duties at work came. Then came shitty employees I had to cover for and eventually fire. (I have fired two people this semester, and it felt damn good too!) Basically, I really did not have time to look for any jobs anywhere. Well, I still decided I would just move to Dallas and find work and save and look for better employment. Still an OK plan, until...



NEW CAR!!! yea! But with this comes car payments and insurance payments. BOO!!

Yeah, I know it's a shitty picture, but still.

But I didn't have much of a choice. My old car was dying and was costing me more money to fix than will my new car payments.

So, having a steady paycheck, while it may not be much, sure helps a lot. It also, has really got me thinking about future plans. Near future at least.

Plus, there is grad school. I have always planned on going back, eventually. My parents are constantly pressuring me to go back.

OH, did I mention I get a free class from being a Tech employee? Well, I surely do.

Plus, since I would be going to get a Master's in the same department I am working, the same department I already know everyone in, might make things a little easier in terms of getting help, etc. Sure they would bust my ass more, but I would appreciate the challenge more since I know them.

I know it is probably not the best idea to stay. But I have too much here right now with my current situations. Mainly the steady paycheck and somewhat easy job. AND there is a lot of shit going down at my department and there have been talks of moving me up.

So, I don't know where my life is going. I am going to try to get into some grad classes in Spring and see if this is really what I want to do. I know I have several people in Mass Comm backing me to go to grad school and teach. Part of me wants to. Part of me whats to leave and find something else, possibly something better.

I do know this: If I do stay another semester. Which will most likely be my last (I know, I have been saying that for two years now). I need and will get my shit together. If I do decide to go to grad school, I may stay at Tech. But I doubt I will be working at Tech. Unless things change greatly, Spring (if I stay) will be my last semester working at Tech.



Wow, I really did not expect this to be so long. And kinda boring. I would apologize, but fuck it. It's my blog.

I am sure some of you, maybe many of you, are unhappy with this. Possibly angry and you think I am dumb for staying at Tech any longer. But I really feel, at least with the way things are right now, this may be a better situation for me; certainly not THE BEST, but for where I am both financially and emotionally, it may have to do.

Damn. Sometimes I am really dumb about life decisions.



Oh, on a side note, I have started therapy again. Fun times.

Josh Runs the Voodoo Down

It's official - my parents go out more than I do.

They went to drink some adult beverages at the home of a friend, while I travel lazily and half-assedly around the Internet, literally shrugging my shoulders at the sites I typically check daily. I don't know, I haven't even been able to muster much political or news-type reading lately. After reading the headline, that's it, I'm too beat down to chance my blood pressure with the actual article.

I tried to talk to my social life last night, see if it was still awake. It didn't say anything, so I poked it with a stick to see if it was even alive, only to have it elicit some unclear grumbling and what may have been a burp. It's not dead I don't think, but it might be in a vegetative state.

I'm guessing the Republicans will stop what they're doing and convene an emergency legislative session to keep me from completely pulling the damn plug on the whole thing.

The other day I was discussing life plans, or a complete lack thereof, with a fellow friend and Alpinian. His concern is that he’s 25 years old, lives with his parents, is basically unemployed, and he shares my wonderful ability to never commit to an idea for long enough to make it an actual opportunity for employment.

Basically, we’re together at this whole quarter-life crisis, beached on some shore of indecision and fear. We constantly reflect that Orson Welles had finished Citizen Kane and moved on to other ventures at this age. Truth be told, we’re afraid we’re aging without anything to show for it.

Except justifiably concerned parents.

But then I got to thinking…People of other ages - 30, 40, 50 - are always told nowadays that their age is the new 20, 30, 40, respectively.

For example, "You're 50? Ah, don't worry about it. 50's, like, the new 40!"

So, by that logic…

25 is the new 15.

That’s right folks, if your parents are starting to eye you suspiciously as a failure who may continue to eat their frozen goods when they’re not looking for a frighteningly undetermined amount of time into the future, just relax and tell ‘em that’s no way to look at somebody 15 years old, dammit. You’re sensitive, going through some serious changes, and are confused. You can then run to your room, slam the door and crank up loud music that embodies that abstract and hormonal rage inside you.

Then, if you’re like me, you can go about your 15-year-old way of trying to lose your virginity and passing chemistry. (I settled for the less exciting but probably more important latter challenge.)

I guess this whole being 15 again thing means I should start thinking about what college I want to go to, maybe what field of study interests me most. I’m thinking something with the Internets. I hear they are not unlike tubes, but quite unlike dumptrucks.

As for a college, I figure I’ll just base my selection on the quality of sports team that I will spend drunkenly supporting every weekend. Or I’ll base it on Playboy’s ranking of colleges’ percentage of attractive women, or a combination of both. Oh, and how could I forget? The real clincher will be whether or not the school has a leisure pool…

On a different note…

Have you people lived with automatic, self-cleaning litterboxes?

First of all, do you live with a box of shit in your house? I do. But this box of shit is no ordinary B.O.S. (for brevity-sake), oh no, it’s got computers in it, or robots, and it apparently converts feline waste into pure energy. I just can’t figure out what nefarious, intergalactic projects it plans to fuel with this abundant resource.

One of the cats I live with, who we’ll call Tom, is endlessly fascinated with it, often running the length of the house at the first sounds of its magical self-cleaning ritual just to watch it work, often with his head at an angle and whiskers all atwitter. Another cat, now deceased, used to be terrified of the damn thing, forcing the placement of an old-fashioned, non-self-cleaning B.O.S. in a different part of the house. I’m not unconvinced that the mechanical terror of the dark, new age of robotic feline waste management didn’t send his elderly heart racing even faster toward that light at the end of the tunnel.

Tardy Transmissions from Beyond the Bible Belt - Episode 1

As widely circulating reports have suggested, I, Josh Justice have indeed escaped the tyrannically tight belt that is Lubbock, and have tossed it along with its shiny buckle to the wayside. I can't say it was a a Great escape, certainly nothing of which Steve McQueen could be proud. Perhaps it was more of a whimpering crawl, a sort of duck and roll out of Lubbock and into...into...?


Alpine, Texas - population 5, 786, hometown of yours truly and site of such fame and infamy as, um...hmm...an Alco store? A True Value? I think one of the guys from Bonanza went to Sul Ross University, the college here, which locals sarcastically call Harvard on the Hill. I think they actually offer a major in Ropin'. But yeah, Dan Blocker.

Got his masters in drama here. Oh, and Arlo Guthrie (son of Woodie, grey-headed longhair, devourer of marijuana and mushrooms) once played the Railroad Blues bar, but demanded that nobody smoke. I asked my mom if there was anything I was forgetting, and all she could think of was that we may have had a minor league baseball team here many years ago.


I'm living with my parents again, moving into a room that greeted me with far too many scented Yankee candles and paintings of flowers on the walls. My stepdad constantly watches Fox News - won't watch any other news - but I'm eating far better than I deserve. If we talk about Iraq, it's seriously like we're talking about two completely different things. There's not even enough common ground to debate.

All over town there are signs posted in front yards that say SUPPORT THE TROOPS. LET THEM WIN!!

Yeah, two exclamation points on that last bit. I like to pretend that the signmaker(s) actually had to spend some time debating the perfect number. "One? Hmm, not enough, but three might be overkill. Better just to settle on two. That seems reasonable."

I'm considering writing a letter to the editor asking them exactly what we will win. I'm hoping it's our national dignity back, but since we can't blow the shit out of something for that, I figure that won't be the answer.

Why can't we support a victory over ambiguity and sloganeering? And also, sure, everybody's loves winning and hates losing, but isn't it also how you play the game? Why not post signs that say something like "GENEVA CONVENTIONS. LET THEM BE FOLLOWED!!"


But yeah, I digress. This is supposed to be about me, not politics.


I, a graduate of Texas Tech University, graduated with honors with a degree in Electronic Media and Communications. This qualifies me (barely I think) for my current job as...

...a ditch-digger. More precisely, I install septic tanks. Yeah, where waste (could have gone with all sorts of juvenalia here, but I tastefully refrain...for now) goes. It's hard labor, usually with a hand constantly on a shovel, a tape measure or piece of pipe waiting to be glued.

I certainly am unable to use anything I learned in college. But at the same time, I feel like I am gaining an education perhaps more valuable, one that brings with it useful and simple concepts of hard work, humility, concise communication, and on a side note, a greater appreciation for the outdoors. I mean seriously, who would have known I could have been a fan of the outdoors? I always considered myself an indoor kid. Damn, maybe I should have checked it out sooner.

We've been working in places like Study Butte, Terlingua and Lajitas, deep south of Texas...There is certainly something to be said for the wordless awe of the sheer geologic majesty of rock jutting out of the earth 6000 feet high, with white patches of salt deposits still lingering from the fact that it was once all under the ocean. I like to pretend that the air above highway 118 split by our vehicles was once an ocean depth split by sharks...after all, shark teeth are abundant here, especially around the tops of anthills, where the little bastards have brought up the dental evidence while making their elaborate tunnels.


Getting in better shape, gaining an understanding of beerdrinking with co-workers after a long day...these are things I like. Sometimes, as in the other weekend in Marfa, I am confronted with the concept of...hmm, maybe I'd call it shame or something, I'm not sure...but when asked, "So, what do you do?" by a not-unattractive female, I hesitate before boldly announcing, "I install septic tanks." If they grimace, I like to follow it up with, "Oh yeah, and I live with my parents."

That always makes them even more fascinated in me. I can tell.


I awake every morning to the television in the living room blaring Fox and Friends, the only show hosted by people that, honestly, if I had nothing left to lose in this world (i.e. I wouldn't feel guilty for going to prison/dying and leaving friends/family behind), would actually murder.

But that's dark. I had hoped there would be some hope in this blog. Or at least some hopeful twist on my current status. All I know is that I'm not unhappy. I miss friends from Lubbock. I do. And I'm not one to really admit, even to myself, that I need people. After years of considering myself a lover of solitude, I am ready to admit that maybe I'm a little restless with solitude.

My life is work, sleep, work, sleep, read, sleep, work. That "read" is valued ever more for its dwindled opportunities.


Oh, and in conclusion, besides the septic tank installing job, I have a job on the side with my mom. Yes, my own Mommy Dearest. We mow lawns. No shit. And she has a serious, legit job with the government - ICE, to be exact, ICE being Immigration and Customs Enforcement.

I call our little venture Mama's Boy Mowin'. We do good work.


Damn! How could I forget this? For those that know me as a bespectacled cynic in love with music, air conditioning, and watching b-movies while under the influence, you might be surprised to know that I've been driving one of these:



It's true. One of my first days on the job involved me driving that up a mountain to a job site. I also was wearing a cowboy hat and boots. That being said, my boss is a bit of an extravagant spender, so we have XM radio in the tractor. So, while I was driving this damn thing, I was able to listen to Morrissey's "Every Day is Like Sunday," which left me, possibly quite egotistically, with the notion that such a scenario had never quite occurred before. I mean really, how many people listen to mopey British dudes while driving a backhoe on the way to dig a 6-foot deep hole in which to put a septic tank?


Of course, immediately following Morrissey, I found and listened to a Creedence song. I basked in the feeling of appropriateness.

Life regrets and my ever-growing depression

Have you ever had a time in your life when you start regretting all the things you have done in the past few years...maybe even most of your life.

Well, that’s how the last week and a half have been for me.

Things seemed to be somewhat looking good. I was really looking forward to getting on with life after Tech. Although I wasn’t sure where I was going, I knew I was going to be leaving in December/January. I was ready. Ready for something new. Ready for that next stage in my life. OK, well maybe I wasn’t totally ready, but I knew I had to leave or else I would be staying around much longer.

I was not sure what I wanted to do with my life, but I knew getting out of Lubbock would at least get me going in some direction. I have become somewhat comfortable and am no longer “challenging” myself to find something better.

So, things were going good. I had a plan. A very basic plan, but a plan nonetheless. To get out of Lubbock. My future would be uncertain, but Dallas was promising with several people I know living there and hope they can get me some type of employment.



My plans are somewhat slamming hard into a proverbial brick wall.

I do not know what to do anymore. I am starting to regret so much of what I have done with my life over the last few years. Especially since graduating from college.

I graduated in May 2004. I had signed a lease so I was stuck in Lubbock for at least a year. I got a bartending job and also fell into a job at Tech (mainly because I was available and someone else got sick and was going to be out for a long time.) At this point, I had no plans to stay after my lease was up. I would move, probably back to San Antonio and seek employment, trying to put my college degree to work.

Well, after that first year at Tech, they decided that I made enough of an impression that they needed to create a full-time position for what I was doing. So, although I was already doing the job, I had to apply for the position. I did. And I got the job (It would have been really bad had I not gotten the job since I was already doing it.) Again, I never planned on staying this long. But they kept giving me more money. So, I stayed.

Now, had I known I was going to stay at Tech this long, I should have gotten my Masters. I never planned on getting it, but if I knew I would be at a place for this long, I would have gotten it.

Well, it is now October 2007. A little over three years since I graduated from college. And I am still at Tech. Still working the same job. Still not knowing what exactly to do, but knowing I really should get out of Lubbock.

My plan, until about a few weeks ago, was to leave in December/January and move. More than likely to Dallas, at least for a few years. Then maybe to Portland.

But now, things have changed. I have been having major car problems. And In June, my parents finally decided I need something new. Well, I did not disagree. The plan was for my dad to help with the down payment and I would make monthly payments. Fine. I knew I would be getting a second job soon anyway to help save money, but now it would be to help with car payment too.

Well, about a week ago I got a new car. Finally. And its not that I don’t like it, I do, but the payments…the payments are really something I can’t afford. I mean I can, barely, but I would not be saving anything for when I do finally move. If I move.

Well, this is where the “fun” has begun. (Well, this is where my depression gets worse.)

So, my dad has been pushing me to go back to school to get a Masters. After the last few semesters, I have begun to think I might like to teach. I have been helping out the photography studio class the last few semesters (some may say I have been pretty much teaching the class).

AND...with a new car payment, my dad is really pushing me to stay at Tech and get my Masters from here and keep my full-time job.

Which, in reality, is probably the best option. I mean, I know everyone at Mass Comm. I know all the professors I would have. I would still have a full-time job. Plus, after 18 hours I could teach. (And given the status of the photo classes at Tech, I would probably teach.)

Plus, as a full-time employee, I would get one free class a semester.

But, with working full time, it would take me about three years to finish. That would make me 30 years old.

And still in Lubbock. With nothing more than I have now, except a Master’s Degree.

I really have no idea what to do. I have been talking to a few professors at Mass Comm. and they say I should go for it. “It“ being getting a Masters.

But I don’t know if I can stand being in Lubbock that much longer. But with all my new payments (car, insurance, etc) having a guaranteed paycheck every month sure would come in handy.

Basically, this is my cry for help. I don’t know who to talk to or what to do.

new car...new insurance...I feel the dirty sensations of adulthood

So, I got a new car today. A Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo Rocky Mountain Edition. Don't really care about the Rocky Mountain Edition, but it had everything else I wanted. So, thats what I got.

I am pretty stoked. It is finally setting in that I got a new car. It was pretty sad cleaning out my old car. As much as I hated all the problems I was having with my old car, I am going to miss it. I can't drive the Jeep like I did my BMW. I mean I took some curves at close to 60 mph and it was awesome. I didn't have to really slow down going into turns and the acceleration was amazing...even with all the problems its had.

On the flip side, with the Jeep I will be able to go places I could not before. I can finally drive down rough dirt roads to get to take a picture I want. I don't know how much more stuff I can fit in the Jeep vs the BMW. Honestly, the cargo space looks about the same, just the Jeep is higher up.

But yeah, I am pretty happy with it. I am sure I will take some pictures within the next day or two and post them...just because taking pictures is what I do and I have something to take pictures of.

I need to get used to driving an SUV. Riding up higher is something I am not used to. Also, I need to get used to parking it. I know it wont be too hard, just driving sedans since I was 16, a Jeep is definitely a change. Granted, my dad tought me how to drive in his Jeep...so its kind of fitting that my first vehicle I buy is a Jeep. (I bought my first car, but it was from my dad, so I don't count that.) I even drove out to where my dad took me to learn driving.

BUT...now that I have a new car, I also have new car payments. And insurance payments.

I need to start looking for a second means of income. Actually, I need to get one, not just look. I also don't know how this will affect my plans on leaving Lubbock anytime soon. As much as I am ready to leave, with having a car payment and loan payment plus credit card payments...knowing I will be getting a paycheck every month is pretty comforting.

So yeah, if anyone knows of somewhere that is hiring. PLEASE LET ME KNOW!!!

OR...better yet...if you know a way I can make extra money without having to get a real job, let me know.

I Mention My Genitals in this, Just So You Know

I wrote this before I left Lubbock (Sept. 6 to be exact), and still kind of thought it was funny. So here 'tis.


Aaah, self-loathing - who knew it could reach such heights?

I think I'm going to start a whole new blog called, Stuff Josh Sees from His Bed Because He's Probably Never Gonna Fucking Leave It.

The title's a bit of a work in progress.


While writing this, I realized that while I may find some sick joy in stewing in my own sadness soup, maybe it's not best to sling it on others. But then again, if blogs and the Internet weren't invented for selfish, childish bitching and whining about life not being fair (with glittering HOT FREE LAYOUTS!! behind them), then I don't know why. Except maybe porn. And pictures of pets doing people stuff and us forwarding them with the heading "2 CUUUTE!!!" to all our friends working in cubicles.


The deal is this: I can't get a fucking job. More precisely, it seems something I'm saying to potential employers in the email exchange is making them think I'm a coked-up hippy who sexually assaults children after killing their puppies in front of them, and also eyes too covetously the office supplies. At which among these they draw the line, I have no idea.

Or maybe I should have gone to school to actually acquire skills, as opposed to knowing theories of communication that nobody gives a shit about because it's not profitable. Sure wish I'd thought of that six years ago.

Today I'm sitting around playing with my moustache because I'm not even motivated enough to fancy a go with myself, i.e. masturbation. Or maybe it's that my sex organs are just sad and upset about being attached to me. It seems even my genipals are badgering me about my unemployment, and they say, "Josh, but you have a degree! The world should be yours for the buffet-style taking."

To those genitals, and you dear reader, (what glorious company!) college is the new high school. Whether that makes grad school the new college, I don't know. But college is a fucking joke. Anybody can get a degree if they have enough money and patience. It's not about scholarship, it's not about learning how to think, it's not about trying to understand yours and everybody elses' place in the world or trying to gain empathy via multicultural understanding, it's not about absorbing timeless aesthetic notions capable of helping us understand for what passes as modern Culture, etc etc etc.

Shit, it's not even about books anymore. Just the selling of them, and the new editions every year that feature very little editorial change but instead a new multimedia cd that's supposed to help you study by signing up for a Web page started by the publisher.


If I sound bitter, I am.


Deal is, I've been waiting for a response from a possible employer here in Lubbock since yesterday afternoon. It seems like a legit job, possibly one for which I'm underqualified, but also something that could provide me with those mythical "skills," which I'm told by credible hip hop sources, are the things that pay the bills. (Sorry)


The job came up while having a drink with some other professors and staff after my final day of work last Friday. I happened to mention that my plans involved going back home to alpine, living with the parents and, this is what got them, doing construction work, namely installing septic tank systems.

Being that they were some of the same professors that I had for my major, I think they were disappointed. Possibly a little hurt, I don't really know.

I imagine the immediate connotations of the word "septic," followed by mental images of shit-splattered underground tubes and shit-spraying mechanical whirligigs beating the ground to all hell come to most of you reading this. They certainly came to me. Before, you know, I realized this is the installation process. There would, thankfully, be no shit involved. Just dirt. Maybe. Either way, it would still pay decently.

Maybe I'm just justifying it to myself.

Maybe I had these courses secretly piped into my brain through vicious radio signals while I slept:

Selling Yourself Short 101
Learned Helplessness - Honors Class
Murky Ambitions and Clouded Judgment (Lab)


I can't help but feel that I missed some sort of boat, or I missed a day at school (high school or college) that was really important and I couldn't become a productive, tax-paying, employed citizen without it.


I thought about deleting this next part or saving it for another post, but I thought it was funny, albeit a bit personal.


Ah yes, where I lay forth all my sexual neuroses and insecurities! (well, not all)

You know those signs in high school, maybe health class in particular:
"They say that when you sleep with someone, you are sleeping with everyone they have ever slept with."

Wow, then I've slept with a whooole lot more dudes than I've slept with girls. And, I don't see myself catching up anytime soon. Or ever. Does this make me vicariously homosexual?

(Then again, maybe I could somehow make some lemonade out of these sad sexual lemons by trying to connect myself to Kevin Bacon using this. HOly shit, I nailed kevin bacon! whooot!)


I buy condoms like an old lady buys milk, searching through the ones in the back looking for the latest expiration date.

I wouldn't say I'm looking for a girlfriend, for any sort of serious commitment. But, if I were, I guess I do have some standards. Call me picky, but here's what I look for in a girlfriend:

1. Not fucking other people. I know, it's kind of tough, but I'm crossing my fingers.

Hmm, I was going to make a joke about having all their limbs, but really, that would not have been very nice.

So I guess that's it. One thing. But, considering the gravity of the request, probably too much to ask. I understand.

I still have my paperback novels and my hobby of knitting afghan sweaters for my cats.

And while I'm feeling miserable, let's wind this up by remembering that I'm still unemployed. My mom said to me today that I could have it worse. I completely agreed. I could have raging asshole cancer, or a rare disease that makes me confuse chainsaws for toothbrushes, etc. But no amount of "oh gee, shucks, good thing I have both my legs still" is going to get me a fucking job. (sorry mom)

Taking Up the Gauntlet for the Cause of Shit Mountain's Delicate Ecosystem

Seriously, this Michael Vick shit has got to stop. Cnn.com actually had it taking precedence over the resignation of Alberto Gonzales yesterday.

This story is out of control and I blame all parties. For one, Michael Vick fucked up. Training dogs to fight is cruel and he should be punished for it. Have you ever tried to even be near a dog that has been trained to fight? They're not friendly dogs, and they become worthless as pets, because they'll bite your kibbles and bits off when you're just trying to get out their way. So that part of the story should be put to rest. Anyone thinking that dogfighting is acceptable is living in the past.

As for the attention the story is receiving: The NAACP and others have charged there are racist motivations involved and that the story does not warrant this much attention. They're right about it not warranting attention, especially headline-level attention. But he's not being singled out because he's a black athlete; he's being singled out because he's a rich athlete. Again, this is a matter of celebrity and class, not race.

Until we realize that, we will not address our fucked up obsession with celebrity and how anything that some celebrity does is news. Why can't we just have news? Why does the media have to reduce all information to the same level of importance? By providing an "entertainment" portion to the news, and then giving it near-equal time and imbibing it with the same amount of journalistic effort (given, not much) as they do the resignation of an attorney general, it lowers the value of both. It's kind of like mixing religion and politics.

The NFL is also fucked up for being more concerned with Vick's gambling than his butchering of man's best friends. I guess dog fighting doesn't conflict with their image though, so only the gambling is bad for business.


But there I go, just filling the Internet with more shit by talking about it, creating ever more layers to the nonsense, kinda like this sedimentary rock formation seen here:



See, layer upon layer of shit is added, and with the ever-decreasing timespan it takes for media stories to flourish and take on lives of their own, what we create, essentially, is a Shit Mountain.

The question becomes, "Who is King Fuck of Shit Mountain?"

Actually, no, that's not the question. I just like that phrase. To be honest, it's not really like sedimentary rock formations. Not at all. It's more of a really lazy, self-sustaining loop. But in the spirit of lazy journalism, I'm just going to let that idea drop.


And finish with some bullet points.

1. Lubbock and Texas Tech are so much better, bearable even, when all the students are gone. Walking on campus today reminds me why I support nuclear armament. (And yeah, you CAN hug with nuclear arms, it's just not very cuddly, not something you'd want to spoon with perhaps)

2. Man of the Year starring Robin Williams was not what I expected, and it also was not terrible, something I also didn't expect. What a glowing review huh? Not terrible.

3. Dane Cook also needs to stop. As does the absurd level of whoring out of the main myspace page after you sign in. I realize the News Corp. juggernaut now owns this little site, but can't it be a little less gaudy?

random...
We are now voluntarily doing the work of marketers - see, social networking sites are datamining opportunities. By willingly listing our favorite books, movies, tv shows, etc., we are offering ourselves and our interests up for easy cataloguing. I'm not here to suggest paranoid delusions of marketers targetting people individually, but rather we are eliminating the need for any sort of market research. Consider facebook's hyperlinking of information in those categories of personal interest...(and we should be making these assholes' jobs harder, not easier)

As much positive talk there is in regard to people being empowered through the Internet, user-generated content making dents in traditional corporate media, and new ways to express ourselves via things like social networking profiles, there doesn't seem to be much critical analysis of what's going on. Sure, we're expressing ourselves, but isn't it typically more mundane bullshit? Aren't we just spending time delicately crafting advertisements of ourselves? We're essentially crafting ourselves into a socially-networked brand. We are reducing ourselves to advertisements I fear.

And lastly, on a personal note...

I've been kind of quiet about this, as I wasn't sure until recently, but yeah, I'll be leaving Lubbock in a week. I was going to write a long thing about shit I'll miss, shit I won't miss and make a whole open letter to Lubbock, and maybe i still will, but for now I'll just say that I'm moving back to Alpine to get in touch with my inner beard. More news to come on that. I'm sure you will wait patiently by your computer for updates...

Josh Justice Announces his Run for President, A Nation Swoons

And then, suddenly and without warning, I was 24 years old, goals leaping into vision and glimmering with clarity, youthful bad habits shed for the prim and proper fashion of responsible adulthood, life on the straight and narrow, an upper management position practically looking for me, dental benefits now certainly within reach, the thrill of being a responsible, tax-paying citizen finally guiding my way.

That's right - no more daydreaming, loitering on the Internet or drunken capers for this former layabout. No more drinking at 5 pm and watching marathons of Walker, Texas Ranger or The Two Coreys until I nod off with potato chip debris in my beard, chest and lap. Lazy, directionless, aimlessly adrift, motivationally-atrophied life no more!

Nothing but a serious effort from now on, a grown man marching boldly toward a goal. Vices and distractions be damned!

Confidence found! Inspiration discovered crawling with life beneath the upturned rock of sloth!

A winning attitude radiated from my newly purchased business-casual outfit!

Lust finally redirected toward the true satisfaction of overachieving!


Hell, maybe I'll start going to church again, donating part of my money from the no-doubt-millions I'll be diving into like Scrooge McDuck, to Jesus. Although I've heard he'd just turn around and donate it to the Republican party.

But wait! I'll be joining the Republican party! Yeah, now that I'm gonna be a big time businessman with stock options and outsourced, third-world labor at my disposal, I've gotta go with the Grand Ol' Party! These shoulders o' mine are gonna be rubbing with shoulders of CEOs, VIPs and other acronymed individuals.

Yep, I woke up today and BAM!, suddenly I didn't want to go to the bar anymore. Oh no, heavens no. I wanted to jump in the car and speed on over to a resume specialist so I can maximize the effectiveness of my carefully orchestrated diction to explain my previous jobs' responsibilities. See? I'm already getting better at verbiage! Boy, adulthood: this is gonna be a piece of cake.

Next thing you know, I'll be living in the suburbs, shopping for turtlenecks at the mall, forwarding office jokes to coworkers and buying an SUV with television screens that fluidly descend from overhead compartments.

Won't you join me, kids? I can already tell it's gonna be a veritable feast, with heaping helpings of self-control, stability and seriousness. The three scrumptious S's. Oh, and sprinkle a dash of commitment in there somewhere for some spicy flavor. MMMmmm, now that's what we call the tasty stew of adult life. Yum!

Or perhaps a metaphor more accurate than some goulash would be a white-knuckled thrill ride through the sexy, debaucherous underworld of documents, deadlines and dependability. The three devilish D's. And we could add nitro tanks to add another D - danger!

Man, who knew adulthood could be so fucking awesome?!?


But, there may be a dark lining to these beautiful, cumulonimbus clouds of excitement and opportunity. It's true, my biggest fear is that I will no longer be generously catered to by marketing and advertising teams keen on reaching the young consumer demographic. Let's face it - I'm getting older, and without lifestyle ads that help me to purchase items that reenforce a well-groomed image of myself, how will I know what to buy?

Boy, adulthood may be more challenging than I thought.

Oh well, I'm sure that if I bury myself in my work and then bury myself in the electronics purchases I make as a result of my solid income, I'll be fine. Corporate world, I am ready, willing and able to bend over for your cycle of consumption, I offer up a backside to your train of stockholders. It's true...

A willing cog in the churning guts of some corporate machination, I am ready to be mangled into adulthood.





I think this might be my generic cover letter from now on. What do you think?