Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Letter to my old high school


Dear Yough School Board,

I am a 1996 graduate of your school, writing in protest to your poor academic ranking as reported by schooldigger.com. I have been interested in purchasing a home in the neighborhood that I grew up in but am hesitant to send my prospective children to your school. A quick search on the above mentioned website will show very respectable rankings from all of your neighboring districts.

The problem is no secret: your teaching staff are not producing. Taking a look at your staff, I see many of the same last names of the teachers that I had when I was in school and know others who have been hired due to their personal relationships with other faculty. Nepotism is robbing the students and the homeowners of your district. The grandson or granddaughter of a former teacher or administrator is not necessarily the best candidate for a teaching job. A teacher who was hired based on his or her relationship to another is not likely to correlate his/her teaching efforts with his/her salary. A teacher who has not earned their job is not likely to achieve.

Apparently your competition understands these basic business principals and their pupils are being rewarded with success while their homeowners are rewarded with wealth. I hope that your district will consider revising their hiring practices, or consider merging with any of your neighboring districts. Your service is crippling the taxpayers of your district.


Otherwise warm regards,

Aaron Tamasy

Thursday, December 19, 2013

Soul/Id Duality

I was searching my computer for picture files for a job I did a long time ago and found the below attached essay that I must have wrote about 3 years ago.. I am strongly influenced by another being inside of me who really doesn't identify with me, or the person I chose to be. He's the coolest part about me.

When expressing my emotions to people and describing how and why I feel things, I made up a story about how and why I feel. My person is made up of two “people”. There’s me, Aaron. I speak English and some Spanish. I am a manager. I have emotion, but I am shallow. I am good at math and business. I should be good at spelling, but I’m not. I am also not so hot at spatial relations. Lefty loosey, righty tighty only goes so far in this world. I have a body. I am concerned with vanity and sex and food and money. I go to the gym because I want to look better. I like to yell at bankers. I like getting drunk and setting things on fire. I like watching football. I was born on June 2nd, 1978.

Then there is my soul. He doesn’t speak English. He doesn’t even have a gender. I’m just calling him ‘he’ for the sake of this story. You can hear him when I play music. Not when I’m playing the chords to a song, but when I improvise. He knows love. He is profound. He hangs out with God when I go to work. We meet back at the house at around 5 PM. He also likes to yell at bankers. He likes to write, but he doesn’t know English, so him and I cooperate to get something down on paper. He’s not in everything I write, just the stuff that sends a chill down my spine when I read over what I’ve written. He demands justice and peace. He’s bringing a tear to my eye as I write this. When he laughs, my body cries. He believes that he can change the world, and I believe him. He recently woke up from a dismal sleep and he’s a little stiff and slow. But he is strong, much stronger than I. He will be here, or somewhere long after I have turned to dust. I think he was born on the day that I fell in love for the first time. It was as if my soul finally got the chance to break away from my body and he took it and ran as fast and as far as he could. Him and I often disagree. He is an expert at expressing emotions. He can hear others suffering nearby and from thousands of miles away. He’s going to go to them and make it stop. Him and I have worked up a plan for that. I hope it doesn’t get me killed. My soul doesn’t care if it would. He’s had a sort of death wish since the day I met him. He is most active in the mornings. 

Thursday, October 10, 2013

Work Mystery

I haven't posted in a long while. I've been busy and content. I write more when I'm disturbed. Kinda like how I pray. The following is a work memo I wrote about my job site being robbed. I wrote it in a desperate hurry and the desperation kinda shows through. The state official who paid my bills came to me after reading it and asked if I was working on a mystery series. When I realized what he meant, I told him that I have a blog.
Dear Cornerstone Team,
Sometime between the end of the work day Friday and Saturday morning there was a break in at the Cornerstone Apartments 3rd floor utility room. Dave Keister, the property manager, was called at 8 am or so Saturday morning with complaints from either Bernice in apartment 1A or from the West Newton Fire Department. There had been a water leak from a pipe in the 3rd floor utility room which had set of the fire alarm and caused water damage in apartment 2A and 1A. The fire department shut the water off to the building and located the broken water pipe. Dave Keister cut and capped the broken pipe. Bernice's apartment had water coming through the light fixtures and smoke alarms. The fire department shut the power off to her apartment until an electrician can verify that it is safe. Bernice is staying with others while this problem gets taken care of.
My interpretation of the evidence is that an apparent burglar broke into this room by forcing his way into the room with a crow bar or some other tool, stole a pile of scrap copper, scrap wire, a roll of new 12 ga wire and hopefully nothing else. Then the burglar apparently tried to steal a live water lateral off of a 3/4" water line which fed a sink that is no longer there in the back corner of the room. As the burglar was trying to break the pipe, it appears that the water that came streaming out stopped the person from continuing. Then it appears from the rags that Dave found tied around the break that the person tried to remedy the break. Judging from the fact that there were thousands of dollars of tools and materials left untouched, the water break seems to have scared the thief off.
I was informed by Don Harris on Saturday that there was a water leak at the Cornerstone Apartment building. It appeared to Don, and myself, that work that I had done on the building had failed and flooded the apartments. I went out and rented 2 commercial dehumidifiers and rushed over to the building. Dave Keister met me and had a master key copied so that I could enter the building as I left my key with an installer who was away for the weekend. He showed me the ruptured pipe which he had in his truck, and explained to me what he found earlier in the day. Judging from the fact that there were rags tied around the pipe at the break infers that whomever broke the pipe realized what they had done and had the courtesy to try to fix it, albeit pitifully. Neither of my installers nor myself broke the pipe and if we had broken it, we have the tools and materials just a few feet away to fix it correctly. Regardless, I installed the dehumidifiers in the affected apartments.
I have made the necessary arrangements to accept the responsibility for a failure of my work. However, in this case, I believe that I, as well as the affected tenants and owner of the building, are a victims of a crime.
I met with the police chief Gary Endoff this morning and informed him of the incident. He has filed a report and I will get a copy to distribute tomorrow morning. I will also try to get a copy of the fire department's report to distribute.
Directly across from the utility room in apartment 3C my installers and I encountered squatters living in the apartment. We originally assumed the man and woman sleeping on the couch were the tenants. We never got the chance to introduce ourselves because they were never awake. Later in the week we met the actual tenant and told him about his supposed guests. He had no idea that anyone was staying there. He supposed that the man sleeping on the couch was his cousin and he was staying there uninvited. Somehow he communicated to my installers that the woman is a wanted criminal. These people had a clear view of the contents of the storage room as my installers entered and exited their apartment. I'm not infering that these people comitted the crime as it is not my job to do so.
I met with Don and Dave this morning. We walked the site and viewed the damage. I offered to provide the electrician as I will have arranged for an electrician for my project. I advised Don to contact a disaster restoration contractor regarding the rest of the issues as I am not an expert in this field. I am moving forward with my project and assume that an insurance company and a disaster restoration contractor will be taking the responsibility from here on out. I will post the police and fire reports tomorrow. Rob, please distribute this to anyone you see fit.

Aaron Tamasy

Inner Child

Got someone inside that you don’t understand? Are you happy in the mornings for no reason? Are you miserable but you have everything? Have you ever cried during a movie, song, wedding? Ever been so happy that tears came out of your eyes? There’s another part to you. Another person but genderless, bodyless, timeless, careless. It’s picky, temperamental, like a spoiled brat. It knows right from wrong. It speaks from the gut. It likes to be tickled. Injustice makes it sick. Compassion is its natural affect. It loves roller coasters. Its not always there. Ever had an “OK” day? Maybe it just likes to sleep a lot. Sometimes it takes a vacation or maybe goes to someone else. It sings in the shower. It wants to work with you but knows no compromise. It’s your inner child. Please it and you experience joy. Ignore it and you never will. 

Monday, September 19, 2011

Life of the Rich Voodoo Doctor

I remember walking around Phipps Conservatory, which is a big indoor/outdoor garden of exotic and common, beautiful plants. I was dreaming of buying an adjacent piece of property and building my home there. As I was snooping around, I came upon a hidden garden that's entrance was not visible from the street. It was guarded with high shrubs and was very inconspicuous. I walked in and found a girl sitting on one of the concrete benches in front of the garden's centerpiece. She was crying. I was kinda startled by her presence because I thought that I was the only one around so I about-faced as soon as I walked in to give her some privacy. I think I scared her off just then. What was she crying about: a sick family member, a lost love? Later, I walked over to where she was sitting. There I found a CD case broken apart with a Monkeys jacket cover with a heart drawn around one of the Monkeys. The Monkeys were a group of guys who were in a band that didn't write their own songs or even play their own instruments. And here sat this girl crying about one of its members, who is probably in his 70's by now if he is still alive. How romantic.

I didn't realize until that day the emotional draw that these fake rock stars bring about. I wish there were some kind of resource that the fake rock stars could provide to these deeply stricken people. I'm no therapist but I often claim that I'm a doctor. The neat part about my claim is that in the Bahamas, I am a doctor, as there are no qualifications necessary to be a doctor there. In fact, you're a doctor too, if you say so. Sometimes I dream of opening my own shop there beside the ocean. On a chalk board outside I would write the days specials on procedures and treatments. I would also include some voodoo medicine, just to give my practice a Caribbean theme: Snake Chimes... $35/wrap, Golan's Warper Therapy.. $68.50, Bermuda Triangle Root Marm.. $11/chug.

Voodoo doctors are notorious for their wealth. They often drive around in fancy cars and eating fancy things. With my wealth I would start a non-profit organization that helps people through their fake rock star problems. I would advertise my Voodoo doctor's office on the website for my fake rock star thereapy organization. This would allow me to buy more fancy cars.

Monday, August 22, 2011

What is this shit I write?

Sometimes I talk to my friends and family about the topics I write about. Often times my friends and family disagree with me completly and have very interesting points of view about it. If you are reading this, you are reading the blog of a failed man who has made more mistakes than any man should. If you read something that you don't agree with, don't be suprised. But please, let me know what it is and what you think. I need this to grow. I am not preaching gospel here, I am experimenting with thought. I am trying to find my way and any imput at all would be greatly appreciated.

Why I am not a Chrisian - Revisited

I spoke to my mother about my previous blog entry, "Why I am not a Christian". She knows a lot more about the bible than I do. She said that it was not really Jesus's thing to have the power of God to himself. Rather he wanted everyone to know that they also have the power of God. I thought that this was pretty refreshing and really makes my entire entry not moot but less strong. I was under the impression that Jesus proclaimed himself to have the power of God, which during my brief period of research on Jesus via Wikipedia showed me (I did read the bible, or at least the Book of Matthew, or at least most of the Book of Matthew). I thought this a little brash and was the focus of my blog entry.
Maybe it was Jesus's goal not to releave the world of mysery but to show us that we have the power to releave the world of mysery inside us. This is inspiring. Maybe I should recant. What do you think?