Armies Cannot Eliminate Fanatical Ideologies: The Futile War On Terror

Destroying an ideology comes only through education. Why? Because War against an ideology is not about land or resources. There is no kingdom to conquer nor is there a new supply of food or energy to keep your people's bellies full or places to resettle. It is about a radical and fundamental idea that is driven by faith, no matter how corrupt or skewed it may be.

The destruction of  ISIS will only destroy, well, ISIS and nothing else. One or more groups will rise up from those ashes, or existing ones will slither in to fill the radical religious vacuum left by their disappearance.

Groups like ISIS are winning the long game with Sun Tzu like strategy and gorilla like strikes. By creating enough fear, anger, and hatred in numerous parts of the world, our leaders, and us, are being deceived into blaming virtually every Muslim in the world and their entire religion. 

With small but devastating attacks, that while taking many lives, they are more psychologically damaging than physically. The end game is to build so much hatred and doubt that we, the Western World retaliate indiscriminately, thus creating the Holy War they believe -due to their twisted interpretations- that God wants. 

They revel -now more than ever- in the fact that politicians are using terrorism as a means to get the populous riled up in the hopes of gaining votes. This is nothing new in politics but with modern capabilities to create such large scale destruction it is now even more precarious to allow such things to transpire.

This is not a piece about being pro or con in regards to any religion. It is hopefully to remind people about the folly of fighting against an idea and believing you can suppress or eliminate such a non physical and abstract threat by using very real world tangible things such as bombs, guns, torture, and executions. These tactics alone will do virtually nothing.

We do need to protect ourselves and such things as weapons and a military go far in that protection. But they only can be used with efficiency to a small degree and at very specific times. It is inefficient to use them in a large scale battle, or battles, against mere ideals.

We must be careful to not be lead by such vitriol instinct and our emotions. It will lead us to do unspeakable things, to perhaps lose our humanity. We must understand the threat and help the far more numerous people, our fellow man -be they Muslim, Jewish, Christian, Baha'i, Pagan, Agnostic, or if they have no belief in God- to stand together, to look at every way to educate each other on such radicalism -from any ideology- and the danger it poses on all of us.

If we allow ourselves to forget who we are, and we become indistinguishable from our enemies, then we deserve whatever hell is unleashed upon us. 

"Grandpa" James Oliver

 "I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil." ~ Gandalf 

I was a twenty one year old kid when I first met James. I am surprised I don't remember meeting him earlier owning that we had many of the same friends.
 It was at his apartment in Tacoma. The Polynesians, if I remember the name correctly. All of us seemed to live in this Zeusforsaken  complex where the roar of highway 16 would sound like the ocean...if you closed your eyes and had a good enough imagination that is. It was after a long and wild night at Cheers West. A night built around a plethora of rum & cokes, lots of dancing women, and Flaming Dr. Peppers. I don't remember my first impression of him. "Tall" was all I could probably muster at the moment due to the hangover from the previously mentioned evening.


Most of us called him Grandpa. No, he wasn't old but he was much older than most of us. Slowly over the years he would become a great friend to me. We would drink excessively at times, having more fun than we probably should have without being arrested. Vancouver, Canada being one of our favorite places. A club called Cecil's to be precise.

He was a Jack and Coke man with a great fondness for Frank Sinatra and blondes. He taught me much and some of my best memories of my twenties involve him. A group of four of us, John, Johnny, Jeremy, and myself, seemed to gravitate towards James. We all spent obscene amounts of time together at one of the greatest and most gloriously disgusting dive bars called Roselli's. A type of place where you had to enter through the back from an alleyway. When that corroded metal door opened and the wafting smell of ancient stale beer and decades of spilled liquor hit you, you knew you were in for an interesting night...or alcohol poisoning...and of course there was always a risk of food poisoning from the most questionable hot dogs you ever laid eyes upon. or single pizza slices. Most knew better than to order the hot dogs, yet sometimes you were too damn hungry and drunk stomach can handle any food, right! It was always a wonderful thing to see someone's initial reaction to their first time walking into those hallowed narrow wood paneled walls.

This was our home. One of many actually. Along with the haunts of Wow's Etc, The Victory Club, Cheers West, Barbs, Drakes, BBQ Pete's and Luciano's, where depending on what night it was you could find any combination of us. Between Wow's and Roselli's alone it was like attending a drinking university. We learned from the best and James, a trained bartender himself, was one of them! He was the Gandalf to our little drunken fellowship.

While James and I were working together for Budweiser -and during the last few years I was able to do anything before my own problems began to control my own life-  we would spend much of our time together at Luciano's. It is here and then that he and I became very close. Much closer than our previous seven years of friendship.

I used to call James "my most paranoid friend". I don't mean in a sad and pathetic conspiracy theorist sort of way. I mean...well, he was one part Gladys Kravitz and one part...I'm not sure what! It was in a humorous and endearing way. I had teased him about it on more than one occasion. A common example would be if there were people talking outside his apartment or house, or there was any kind of noise, there he was peering through the curtains or the peephole in the door. "What the fuck are they doing?", or, "What the hell is going on out there?" were phrases I have heard on many occasions while sitting in his home. Or if there was any kind of social issue with someone, he had the tendency to create little negative scenarios in his head about what their true intention was. Again. this wasn't in a frighting or concerning way. But an endearing one. The latter may have been due to his ability to be so fiercely loyal to his friends. And he truly was!

I will have to also admit that with me his loyalty faltered on one occasion and we nearly came to blows. I had never been so furious with a man before and certainly not a friend.  He saw me seething, like a volcano preparing to erupt with such force it didn't care what was in its path, but knew it was directed towards him. It was a tense couple of hours in a very public place. In the end I saw he knew exactly what the problem was. However, to his credit James knew well enough to keep his words to a minimum. His understanding and his clear regret were in his eyes and it was one look and his outreached hand that calmed me. There was an understanding between us and I think we became even closer after then. It was like a bond between brothers that deepens after some sort of tragedy. Unfortunately because of my own personal demons that bond while still there would become very distant as I regressed into a nearly empty shell of who I once was.


I remember the last time I saw him. It was during Art On the Ave in 2010 -maybe 2009- It had been a few years but the reunion was a warm and happy one even if he did make fun of my new chubbiness. We laughed and I explained a little of what I was struggling with and I was caught up on his life. We only spoke a few times after that and eventually only a couple of times via text. I remember leaving a message with him when I was told of his illness, making sure I didn't let on that I knew what was happening. Why? Because he wouldn't have wanted too may people to know and I was told in secret although I'm sure many people were in on it. I never did hear his voice again. That was four years ago. And while I can clearly hear it in my head, it is only a shadow and will fade with time no  matter how hard I try to hold on to it.

"We seem to have reached the age where life stops giving us things and starts taking them away." ~ Charles Stanforth (Jim Broadbent)

I have lost three people now in the last nine months. Several more the last few years. The loss of James has hit me the hardest. I cannot help but to morbidly wonder who is next? My Mother? Johnny? Annie? Krista? Brian? Perhaps I am next? What I do know for certain is that James didn't deserve this. No one does. It makes me furious with Zeus, Yahweh, Allah, God, Re, Ahura Mazda or whomever you choose to believe is pulling those puppet strings. If this is part of a plan, then perhaps I choose to no longer play by such cruel rules in a sick sort of experiment to stroke the ego of such a childish being. But I digress. My apologies.

I cannot speak to the man James had become these last six or seven years. I'm sure he was pretty much the same, which is a good thing. But at a time when he was dealing with such great pain, I failed him as a brother, a man, and a friend.

I loved James Oliver as though we truly were brothers. I always felt comforted just knowing he was around, out there somewhere. He was most likely going to be the first person I would track down when I would finally return to my Cascadian homeland for a visit. I have, or would have had, so much to tell him. So I waited -too long- and kept living in my own little world.



I ask all of you to reach out to someone you haven't spoken to in a long time. We all have that one or two people we wish so desperately to have back in our lives, but life gets in the way. "There is always tomorrow", we will tell ourselves. Well, tomorrow, for some people, may never come again.


My tomorrow with my friend and brother, James, is now only an unfulfilled plan on a worthless "to do" list. Don't allow yourselves to be put in the same empty and regretful situation.


I love you, James. We all do.

Goodbye and fare thee well, my friend

Violence, Frustration, Recognition, and Change

I know several people active with the Black Lives Matter movement. Yet I know of not one that fits the description of a hateful, racist, inciter of violence that I see coming from a few white conservative friends.

I'm sure there are such people involved that exhibit those tendencies. After all, history shows every group has their fundamental radical douchebags. But to lump everyone together in BLM is a rather absurd and illogical conclusion. It is also ignorant to assume police officers are incapable of overstepping their boundaries, because a small percentage actually do. Sometimes the minority of any group can cause the loudest of disturbances.

No single group is immune to a few bad apples. Understand that only a minor fraction of BLM may claim or believe all police are guilty or corrupt. Like I stated before, every group has its social idiots. Unfortunately, I have met several whites that despise and blame all police for their own troubles in life. It is time to stop blaming the masses for the actions of the few, in EVERY walk of life.

I have never blamed all Police, Blacks, Whites, Muslims, Christians, Republicans, Democrats, Japanese, Turks, Germans, etc for any atrocious deeds their ancestors, or minority contemporary factions, are or were perceived to have done or to be doing. That is not to say we should ignore history, nor should we trivialize pivotal events, that would be a foolish thing to do! I believe that understanding and accountability of society's less than admirable actions and qualities is the beginning of a better world.

Marginalized groups deserve recognition and acceptance. Movements such as Black Lives Matter, Gay Pride, and Feminism are doing an incredible job taking matters into their own hands. Why? Because for most of American history they have been treated like second class citizens - if they were respected as citizens at all-. They were called evil, sinners, subhuman, inferior, and were not given the same rights as the rest of the populous. It is time we all stand with them. Starting in the earliest days of our nation, hierarchies of white males allotted amounts of freedoms starting with themselves at the top, only throwing a few scraps of select freedoms down below when it felt appropriate. Sure, not all white males were responsible. However all were, and are, benefiting in some way whether we notice or not. The establishment slowly crumbled over time but often we are reminded of the imperfect world we still live in. When a large push-back happens we are forced to recognize and reexamine ourselves and our culture. All the while some people will try even harder to cling to the old norms as our narrow views become more obvious and exposed.

Negative connotations combined with unfair and sometimes extreme actions were used to demonize needed movements in the past. Abolitionism, Suffrage, Civil Rights, Marriage Equality. These movements had archaic political and religious opponents using anything from economics to the Holy Bible as reasons these people should not have the same rights as the rest of the nation, meaning males and more importantly white males. The Civil War ended in 1865 yet it took near a century before Americans of African descent were -allegedly- allowed to join the rest of American society. They stood up and had to fight for what they deserved. Many protests were peaceful in the physical sense but in certain areas these protests were viewed as illegal and the protesters as inciters of civil disobedience. Yes, some of the protests became violent. Sadly, violence will spring up during movements that are pushing for social justice and change. But the violence can be found flamed by the minority on both opposing sides. Everyone involved firmly believes in what they are doing, and emotions are running at an all time high. It can become a powder keg.

A reminder to you, we all have our hidden bigotries of which we may not even be aware. I hope that as we become aware of them we will choose to change. It's a hard thing to do, changing the status quo. That is what conservatism itself  means, to be opposed to change. Many of us are frightened of change. It is a part of human nature.  When it comes to social change some accept it more readily than others. In the interim the world waits for those of us to catch up, hoping they don't get dragged down by the few who still fear and oppose the change that is not only needed but required if we want our humanity to survive.

Please, let us find the common ground. Let us educate and take those needed steps that too many are sadly unaware we still need to make. Let us praise those that deserve it while holding accountable only those individuals who should be. We have a long ways to go, I have faith it will be worth the immense effort in the end.

The Procrastinator's Assistant

How does one hire somebody when one has less money than Jed Clampett prior to the worst  -and luckiest- hunting shots in history when failing to kill his dinner?

Being poor sucks

I could use some assistance. My good friend who is highly anal retentive, loves lists, and to plan things out meticulously is moving far away soon. She would have been the perfect choice to help me plan and run my crowdfunding campaign and eventual research trip. However, the planning of her own move and job hunt will take all of her efforts.

I am far too good at procrastinating or looking for excuses to complete these tasks myself. This means I'm trying to find someone to help me with said planning stages, the scheduling, and the crowdfunding campaign. Someone who will keep me on track. To kick me in the ass when I need it.


I am trying to figure out ways to compensate whoever helps me with this. There's a few ways this could be done but would have to be discussed in person. It won't be much, which is all I could say at this point.

Preferably this assistant would be someone I know here in Albuquerque. Why? Because I would like to meet up with him or her often enough to keep me energized on this project. Yet, I suppose it can be someone elsewhere and this could all be done through emails, phone calls, Skype or FaceTime.



                                                            The Project In A Nutshell

Many of the dozen or so people that will view this know of the project and what it entails. For those of you who do not, I will describe it a little.
I want to take a solo journey around New Mexico and part of Arizona. I would be visiting towns and other sites that are connected to Billy the Kid. The purpose is to write about my experience as a person who suffers from an anxiety disorder and trying to overcome the agoraphobia I developed do to it.  I would be trying to understand the Kid's own anxieties he may have had as well as trying to deal with -and understand-  my own. This would also be proof to people like me who suffer from such disorders that it is possible to regain at least some of yourself back, to be able to do things with your life once again. To understand that fear can be overcome.

I would hope that as I travel and push myself beyond the limits of what I believed possible to do, and learning some history while doing it, that I will inspire others to do the same. To seek out the help they need and deserve.

This book will be part historical, part educational, part adventure, and part self improvement. Yet hopefully it will be entirely inspirational.



If any of you are interested in possibly assisting, please feel free to contact me here, Facebook, or via email, 
 We can at the very least discuss it and see what we can do.



Thank you for your time

David

The majority of places in New Mexico and Arizona I plan to travel to

Map from "The West of Billy the Kid" (1998) by Fred Nolan 

The Santa Fe Endeavors, Part Two: Clarice

[This is many weeks late. My apologies to the 2/3 of dozen people who were waiting on it. I have been fairly busy and after you finish this you shall understand why.]
                                        

Galisteo St, Santa Fe (image credit: D.L. Mavrikakis)

                

                                                                       A Night To Forget

I thought about her all through the rest of the day and well into the next. Deciding I could not pass this opportunity up I scrambled to see if I could borrow the money -I was also offering collateral up front- and a friend offered to help me out.

Wednesday and Tuesday were out of the question. So Nubs and I planned on heading back up the following Thursday. There was an attempt to change her shift at work or get it covered. All we needed was an hour's difference at the beginning or end of her shift and we'd be on our way!

Sadly, Nubs was unable to adjust her schedule. This was heartbreaking for a few reasons. One, I was looking forward to another trip with her as my copilot and companion, because I enjoy her company immensely. Two, because I had no one else to go with me, which means I would most likely miss my chance to purchase that beautiful hardware. At least... this is what I thought temporarily.

I deliberated with myself and finally came to the only conclusion. I decided to do my best to suppress my fears, my anxiety, and attempt to make this trip to Santa Fe all by myself!

If I thought the night before the trip Nubs and I took was difficult, I was rudely educated at how wrong I was on this night. I did not sleep but perhaps eighty minutes. I was up at a little after 1:00am and all I could do for the next seven hours was anguish over what I was about to attempt. It weighed so heavy on my mind that at times I felt I would be sick.

I showered and reluctantly got dressed.

I couldn't eat, I couldn't concentrate on a book, or a movie. I just paced. Occasionally I would lie back down, only to toss and turn for thirty minutes at a time before I had to get up and pace some more. I began to shake and could feel the anxiety rise within me!

Hours seemed like days. The clock getting heavy and dragging me down every time I looked at my pocket watch. I finally had to get out of the house. So, I got in my car and sat there, yet I no not for how long.

Eventually starting the engine, I drove off. Wandering the empty roads of the West Side and Rio Rancho I didn't really know what I was doing and had no destination. There were still hours to go. "Starbucks", I thought, "would be open soon." So naturally that's where I went to kill some time.

The next few hours were more or less just me getting more and more worked up, wondering how long before a panic attack would finally arrive. That's pretty much what I had been waiting for all night and morning. Still, one wasn't to be found.

I could take no more and left to get to where I was meeting up with my friend who was giving me the loan. I was of course substantially early, which was not necessarily a good thing. Why? Because they would be about an hour late, which meant I was sitting there for over an hour and a half, getting more worked up over the whole thing.

I now had my loan, then Nubs met up with me before she went to work. She found an anxiety filled man staring off into space. I didn't even know she had pulled up. I heard her voice off in the distance. It bought me out of my stupor. The second I had come to, the recognition of her voice calmed me immensely. There was my friend, smiling at me. Excited for what I was about to do. I suddenly knew I would be ok. A quick hug assured me of this. Or so I was hoping.

We chatted briefly and I became more relaxed in her presence. The russet eyes, dark hair, and blinding smile. They all helped me to yet again feel more brave than I probably am. I thanked her for meeting up with me. Another hug, she wished me good luck, stated her confidence in me, and we parted ways.



                                                                       Pleasant Surprises





I was no longer shaking owning to Nubs' calming effect on me, and about two miles down Unser I suddenly felt great! In fact I was grinnin' like an idiot!

This time, Motorhead was definitely serenading me through the speakers on this trip. I couldn't believe how my fearful anxiety turned to the all too normal and comparably innocent type of the purely excitement based variety of anxiety. This was down right fun!

I got to Bernalillo and thought that this would be where it hits, once I get onto I-25. As was the case three days prior. nothing.

I kept driving North and the further I got the more excited I became. It was as though I was granted a reprieve from some huge burden forced upon me. I watched the beautiful high desert scenery pass me by, feeling great joy as it did.

I arrived in Santa Fe with the most minor of moments along the way containing minute amounts of anxiety...nearly imperceptible!

I went directly to where I needed to be. There was to be no sight seeing or lollygagging on this trip. It was strictly for one reason and I was all business. I walked in and there she was, waiting for me.


Information was given, approval was granted, and products were purchased to go along with my beautiful new friend....

Here she is. The elegant one, Clarice. 

                                                           Back Home and A New Beginning

Romero St, Old Town Albuquerque 

(image credit: D.L. Mavrikakis)

Once I had her I quickly returned to Albuquerque. Nubs got to check her out and they seemed to like each other very much! A few more friends got to see her over the next couple of days as well.


I had slept quite a bit the next few days. That week was a very busy and stressful one. It had taken a great toll on me. But an amazing thing happened once I had received my much needed rest. There was a new found fire in me.

Suddenly I found myself needing more. I was now expecting more. I felt I was being pulled. I was restless. Before I knew it I was exploring the areas around me. Into the desert to shoot Clarice on some days, and exploring Albuquerque on others.

Over the next few weeks I was all over the place, doing things I hadn't been able to do in years. I had neglected my home Starbucks but it was ok because I was doing so much. Sure, the one drawback to that is that I haven't seen Nubs during this time. I miss my friend but I have a good reason. I'm expanding my world. I will see my friend again soon. I hope she can forgive my absence -although I'm quite sure she's been busy too-

Old Town History Sign, Spanish Side 

(image credit: D.L. Mavrikakis)

One of my  favorite things I have been doing? Well, I have discovered Old Town. I have spent several days down there, wandering the streets, feeling the history of the place flow through me. It has been beneficial to my research for the biography I'm working on and good for my history geekiness in general.


I am planing to do much more. There are still mental obstacles in my way but I am working on them, Or "rehabbing" as I guess it is technically called. Money is also a big factor in holding me back. Perhaps soon I can begin to also do a little work. Not only to improve myself but to make a few bucks so I can attempt to do more,


All these new things I have suddenly been able to accomplish, to do, these chains I have broken? These are largely due to Nubs. Without her influence on me, her encouragement -verbally or merely implied- I don't think I would be this far along. Starting last October, as we became good friends, she has been driving me -whether she knows it or not- to become a better man, in so many ways.

Nubs, I will always be grateful to you. "Daves" shall never forget. Thank you.


And I thank the rest of you for your time


David

The Santa Fe Endeavors, Part One: Nubs

Image: D.L. Mavrikakis

When it comes to my years long recovery in regards to Agoraphobia, and my life long battle with anxiety, last week was a huge one.

Image: D.L. Mavrikakis

                                Monica And The City With The Impossible Name


Nubs and I decided we should do something. A plan was formulated the week prior. I confided in her my desire to do something that for me, would be extreme. I felt I needed to push myself and travel well outside of dusty Northwest Albuquerque. After deliberation we decided on the historic Western town of Santa Fe (or;  La Villa Real de la Santa Fe de San Francisco de Asís)

This would not be my first trip to this high desert city of "holy faith". In fact this would be my second time, having once taken an anxiety filled excursion there with my Mother a couple of years back. It was difficult and I never felt truly relaxed, although being a history nerd I was quite fascinated with it.

This, however, was an entirely different type of trip. It was twofold. A trip to share a day with someone I hold dear, as well as a therapeutic one, to push myself and my comfort zone. I had no idea that this would lead to a much bigger breakthrough mere days later.

Nubs (Monica) is precious to me and I have come to adore her. For more than a year now we have slowly become rather close. We've gone through periods where we talk substantially less, but pick back up again after a short time. I have found myself wanting to help her in any way I can. I have seen her excited about new adventures in her life, and also during times of extreme frustration with aspects of her life. We are not as close as we were (she's a busy lady) but, then again, we only recently began to talk and do things once more.

  As her friend, as someone who wants to support and help her in any way I can, and as a person who has become dear to me, she has began to have affects on me. My mood on occasion can be closely associated with hers. Two recent examples: when I heard someone had been condescending to her, and disrespected her a great deal, I became furious (for days) and protective. When she had been extremely ill, I worried constantly and all I wanted was to make sure she was OK. Thankfully, her family was there for her.

I get like this for a multitude of reasons. One of the more important ones possibly could be due to how she has been able to calm me down in moments of great anxiety, near panic even. She has had the misfortune to have seen me a few times in such a state. Yet each time she quickly tames the frightened beast within me. She soothes him, tells him to leave, and he obeys. I do not know how she does this. It is remarkable to me, the power she has. I am thankful for those times she has been there for me. So, I in turn, want to repay her kindness and for her magical ability to make me feel safe. It is only fair. But more importantly, I want to do it.

Being that we had recently began to talk and do things again as I earlier stated, we felt it would be a great idea to spend the day together, pushing my boundaries, to dance dangerously close with my bane, that Balrog of fear contained within me.

After a seemingly never ending sleepless night, I met with her Monday morning at the providers of mother's milk, of ambrosia, that place of the Gods known as Starbucks. It was not to be our only stop at one of these places that day!

We got into my trusty maroon steed, Zoe, and off we went!


Starting in Rio Rancho we drove to Bernalillo, then hopped onto Interstate 25. I had turned off the soothing sounds of Motorhead and we passed the time gabbing away about many things. The surprising thing about this part of the trip was that, well, I felt fine! I was enjoying the company too much and felt distracted. "Perhaps", I thought, "this is the reason my anxiety hadn't risen yet? That must be it."

As we neared Santa Fe there was suddenly construction on the highway! We were all corralled into one lane for several miles. I felt my anxiety climb a little and thought "here it comes" and I mentioned I was uncomfortable to Nubs. But why wasn't I panicking yet? "It must be her calming effect she has on me", I thought. We passed said construction, or trap, as I would have normally considered it to be, without any real trouble on my part. Curious...

A few minutes later we were off the highway and entering Santa Fe. Again, without serious incident. Curiouser and curiouser.



                                                            Santa Fe 

"In fact, it (Santa Fe) had been colonized 25 years (sic) before the colonials set foot at Plymouth Rock."~US History.com


The history of this city brings a giddiness to me.

Image: D.L. Mavrikakis

I promised Nubs I wouldn't get too nerdy that day when it came to facts or history of the city. That I wouldn't become Ted Mosby when he describes architecture, or Ross Geller discussing, well, anything. However...I make no such promise here! Actually I will keep it to a minimum here too. Why? Because I plan on writing a whole lot on the subject in the future (more on that to come)


Santa Fe lies 60 to 70 miles North of Albuquerque, depending on your starting point. It is the oldest capitol in the United States, having been been founded by the Spanish in 1610. It is also home to the Palace Of The Governors, the oldest continuously inhabited public building in the U.S.

Billy the Kid lived here briefly as a boy and was also held there before his trial in Mesilla, New Mexico. Madame La Tules, Milton Yarberry, Kit Carson, Lew Wallace and many others walked the streets of this little desert mountain town. Not to mention that George R. R. Martin lives here...at this moment...as I type this!


Parking just outside of the four hundred year old Plaza we immediately discovered Sock Magic, A tiny little shop dedicated to, well, socks! My love of the human hoof coverings is well known. Which means I was a tad bit excited once entering. Einstein, aliens, tacos, pizza, native art, pot leaves, bandannas and couple hundred more designs of said socks surrounded us (including T-Rex socks!). The one disappointing thing? Not enough men's socks but a plethora of knee highs. I can't wait to return to that place of magic and purchases a few pair!

Next on the agenda? Food. Constantly keeping an eye on anxiety (whether only potential or not), driving all the way, high elevation, and over stimulation in a sock store certainly makes one famished. We found a little place called The Burrito Co.. Very tasty, very filling. Very brief. We wanted to wander so we looked things up on the interwebs while we ate and then took off.

The Plaza amazes me with its small streets and the Palace of the Governors. The mixture of Spanish, Native, and Old West eras echoing through the Plaza is brilliant. Modern museums, shops, restaurants, and even a Starbucks all encased by centuries past architecture not only in style but in actuality. You don't even have to close your eyes to imagine yourself transported back to the eighteenth or nineteenth century. You can see it, staring right back at you. It is a thing of beauty.


Wandering those small streets with Nubs, in the warm Spring Sun, was quite relaxing. I felt fine but kept expecting to have at least a minor panic attack. Yet still to my surprise, nothing.

We entered a few places looking at stones, rings, gems, necklaces and such. Artistic creativity is not lacking in any way in this city. Literally "a half-mile stretch of Santa Fe's Canyon Road has over 100 galleries, boutiques and restaurants" ~Newsmax,  "making it the world's densest concentration of art galleries," according to the Four Seasons website
To our misfortune many places were closed that Monday. Most unfortunately The Palace of the Governors was one of these. A shop we wanted to get into terribly so was also closed. I do not recall the name, but it was full of fossils. We only had a teasing glimpse of what wonders may be inside according to the view we spied at their door and only window. We could see the stairs inside leading down to a treasure we would not gaze upon that day; left to merely speculate as to what we were missing out on.

Image: D.L. Mavrikakis

Near to there I found one thing I had been searching for. The plaque on San Francisco Street (one of two rival sites) claiming to be the site of the jail which once housed Billy the Kid for four months before his trial. This is important to me because I plan on doing a trip around the state looking for the sights of Billy the Kid. This is all for a book. It will be about my experience as an agoraphobic person who suffers from such high anxiety taking on this solo journey. I eluded to it at the beginning of this piece, that this day trip with Nubs was a sort of dry run to see how I dealt with it. One of several dry runs that I hope...or thought, I would be doing months down the road. But, more on that in Part 2.


We made a quick stop to Mama's Minerals, oohing and ahhing at the little wonders they had, We picked out a little stone for Nubs and a wooden Budha head for me. Of course the system was down and we couldn't actually purchase them. As most famously said by Arnold Schwarzenegger... (paraphrased) "We'll be back".

We returned to Zoe in the nick of time! Just moments to spare before our rented spot on the street had run out of its allotted quarters, giving full authority to the meter maids, to begin to bully us.



                                                  Creepy Crawlies, Pens, and....Her



Why, you may ask, would anyone go to the mall while in such a place as Santa Fe? Simple...
The Harrell House of Natural Oddities! We found this place online when shoving burritos down our gullets earlier in the day.

After some confusing directions, logical deductions, and a long quest for a parking spot, we arrived. Yes. At the Mall. Walking in we...Hey! A Starbucks!.... Leaving the coffee conglomerate we checked the interior map. While not as cool as a map of say Middle Earth, or the Westeros, it served its function by informing us as to where our destination lies.

Image: D.L. Mavrikakis

Winding our way through the halls we saw a paper shop, a pen shop and, a gun shop. All of these made our eyes widen. But we were on a mission. Nubs was dying to see some spiders! This is one of her few flaws...kidding!

Image: D.L. Mavrikakis

Image: D.L. Mavrikakis

This Bug Museum was awesome. While I take issue with those arachnids otherwise known as spiders, plotting to kill every last human, I actually find scorpions quite fascinating. They don't bother me at all and I could stare for hours.

Image: D.L. Mavrikakis

This place was full of butterflies, moths, beetles, centipedes, millipedes, cockroaches, praying mantis', stick bugs, and all sorts of other specimens. There were many live ones too. Including a tortoise that seemed to have something very important to tell us. He just couldn't find the words.

Nubs taking pictures of big ol' bugs (Image: D.L. Mavrikakis)

Nubs was completely in her element. Her excitement was barely contained around these creatures. So much so that I inquired if she ever thought of becoming an entomologist. She seemed to be intrigued by the idea. The look of such wonder, such happiness on her face was worth the whole trip alone. My friend was truly enjoying herself.

She got to hold many creepy crawlies. I touched many of them too but didn't hold any. However, I made sure my precious fingers came nowhere near the tarantulas she held. I will admit there was one that was kind of cute and I liked. Of course I was 83% sure it was casting some sort of spell on me so I would drop my guard and he could devour me. Well, 53% sure...

Nubs holding the one tarantula I didn't hate (Image: D.L. Mavrikakis)

After pretending to be wild explorers seeking out exotic and dangerous life forms we decided we'd drive back and see if we could finally buy our trinkets at Mama's. On our way out we looked at some excellent yet highly expensive fountain pens, as well as the paper shop. But, it was the gun shop, The Outdoorsman of Santa Fe where it happened. Where I saw...her. She was beautiful. She rivaled my companion, but its a different kind of beauty. Her: A Ruger New Model Blackhawk, but an odd caliber. A 30 carbine. Me: An idiot.

Now, I am no gun fanatic. I find them clumsy, loud, and that it can give one a false sense of security. Having said that, I find a certain elegance when it comes to old west style revolvers. (I find the same elegance in the M1 Grand or the M1903 Springfield, the ones in use during WWII) I have been thinking of acquiring one for many months now. One main reason is for the added protection (beyond my usual knife) when I take this trip to write my book. At times I will be in the desert, in the middle of nowhere and you never know who or what you may run into. Also, because I will possibly be spending some time in the mountains outside Silver City. Where, from what I hear, are some rather large mountain cats that love to stalk their prey (even on occasion that of the human variety). This, would be another appropriate time to have a gun.

Not the actual gun but one exactly like it (image from gunauction.com)

 She was priced at an unbelievably low amount. About $150-$200 less than I've been seeing. She would not last at that price. I checked my account and was more than substantially short. Even for the $100 layaway. Could she possibly be there in two weeks when I can (sort of) afford the down payment for layaway? Unlikely but I'm going to have to chance it. We looked at some other guns and Nubs liked a few herself. I'm sure she wanted one too. Not today, I guess.

We returned to Mama's and were able to buy our stuff, then decided to head back to Albuquerque, get something to eat, and then head toward our respective homes.

We accidentally took the wrong road but it also headed to where we eventually needed to be. Bad news? It was rush hour and there were traffic drums for miles. It was exceedingly slow and I was sure this is where I would begin to panic. The anxiety I ended up with was the strange version. It's the anxiety about getting anxiety! For those not in the know...those both suck but are two drastically different kinds of anxiety. Yes, they run parallel to one another and at some point can tragically merge. However this did not happen with mine. Once again I was attributing all this to Nubs' ability to calm me. It has been a proven remedy in the past. So, it is easy to reach the same conclusion now.


We spent the time back talking of many things but we kept going back to the guns. This would be in the forefront of my mind for a couple of days. I couldn't get rid of it. So much so that I ended up a few days later borrowing some money from a friend so I could go get her.

Dinner was cancelled due to an important phone call to Nubs. It was the first time I have seen her furious. So naturally I got pretty pissed off too. It didn't ruin our day but it put a big damper on the end of such a wonderful day, my best day in what seemed to be ages. However, it mattered not, because Nubs and I were going back up that Thursday!


 Or, so I thought...



To be continued soon in The Santa Fe Endeavors: Clarice, Part 2



Thank you for your time.

David

Maggie

I am surprised to see all the average reviews on Maggie. To me this film is quite beautiful. 

It is a vastly different take on the Zombie genre. I understand why people may have a problem with it. It is too slow for some and not exactly scary, which may detract for hardcore fans of the genre. They may also be unsatisfied with the ending. I, however, thought it was perhaps the right one and at the right time; one of only two possibilities I felt could work.

Maggie is not about gore, but about emotion.  The emotional impact on a father who is impotent to provide help to his daughter, choosing to be there as she slowly reaches her inevitable end. And it is about the emotional impact on a far too young girl who is highly aware it is only a matter of time before she is lost to this frightening disease, her humanity literally decaying away.

Arnold Schwarzenegger is superb in this role.  This is perhaps the  best he's ever been; a bona fide "actor". And Abigail Breslin is wonderful as the doomed and frightened girl trying to live out her last days, and in a few cases, to say goodbye. 

It may not be perfect for many, but I suggest you watch it if the concept intrigues you. It will sadly either become a hidden gem tucked away in cinematic history to be rediscovered too late, or a cult classic.