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 |   My fourth blog. Amazing yet disconcerting. Don't worry; this'll go away in a year or so. |
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First there was "I'm Studying You"  ...then there was "Who Do I Think I Am??" . Finally, we reached "Who do I still think I am??" .Until now. Welcome to the Buffalo in your soul...       A THREE-TIME CHAMPION OF THE "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" !   |
  Final Blogapocalypses.What's up y'all? This is it...the final entry of February. Everything's on the line. Before I find my pocket I wanna say a few words though. I have to thank everyone who got involved with Brother Nature  's Unofficial Elimination-Style Fundraiser Challenge. You know how I know it's been a great month? My tablet's predictive text thingy automatically suggests all the words to "Unofficial Elimination-Style Fundraiser Challenge" as soon as I type in Joel's handle  .But seriously...thank you to all the bloggers who came out in February. I know it was a difficult month at times and things got chaotic fast, but I appreciate all of those who stuck with Joel throughout. Especially the newbies who've never experienced something like this...I've been a member of WDC for almost 14 years, and I've never seen anything quite like what Joel put on (and before anyone goes there, no, even though the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" is technically run by me, I had no prior knowledge of anything Joel had planned for this activity...everything came to as much of a surprise to me as it did to you). You guys all came to play, and you competed your hearts out...it's been great getting to know you all and becoming reacquainted with some old friends as well. Some of you have even signed up for the Official March round, and that's wonderful.I also have to thank the outside donors...those who weren't active participants but are familiar with the 30DBC, or maybe read about our efforts through one of our entries. I can't describe the feeling you get when you see an unfamiliar name come up in your email inbox along with a donation...it means you guys have all made a difference to someone (or someones) along the way, and you should all be proud. Finally, I have to thank the man himself, Brother Nature . Joel took this upon himself to make February a fundraising month. It took a lot of effort to make it work...it's a learning process, and there were some hiccups along the way, but Joel handled everything incredibly well. I know he took some shit here and there, and there was some confusion at times, but here we are, the last day of the month, and we're still wondering what the hell is going on together, waiting and writing and wondering who's gonna win this thing.Most importantly, I haven't done the final math yet, but we've raised over one million gift points for the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" , and I can't thank you guys enough. I'm truly touched by the outpouring of support from not only the bloggers involved, but the community members as well. We'll be able to keep the Official Rounds running for the at least the rest of the year (if I've figured the numbers right in my head), which means all I have to worry about is getting the prompts out on time and judging entries in a timely manner (again, sorry about announcing January's winners so late). You guys are fantastic...the finest example of the WDC community spirit. Thank you all so very much.Now...onward to today's prompt, which is an image prompt sorta like the Jeopardy "Daily Double". ** Image ID #2032498 Unavailable ** "Write about the little girl centered in the photo." I know it's hard to see because the photo itself is tiny. Even with being on a 7" tablet and having the ability to do that two-finger zoom-in motion (I don't know what else you'd call it), I can barely make it out. I just hope it's not a picture of Joel's ancestors or anything. I'd hate to find myself saying something potentially offensive about his grandmother. She's got chubby cheeks, and I'll bet she has to go to the bathroom, because while she doesn't look thrilled to be there (nobody smiles in those old-timey pics), she also isn't wearing the standard concentrated death stare common in photographs of that era. This suggests to me something else is at play, like she has to potty and is afraid to tell her mommy because of the scolding she'll get for not going potty before posing, like she was told to do. Or, well, maybe she just couldn't hold it any longer. You know little kids...you put them in unfamiliar situations and, well, sometimes accidents occur. Again, it's hard to judge much from the actual image itself, but I'm thinking the kid is no longer in the diaper-wearing demographic, and even if she was I highly doubt the absorbancy of the fabric was anything but limited at best. One last thought: It's possible she's dead . I know it sounds morbid, but stick with me on this...that's what people did back in the day, according to that Mental Floss article. It was a way of memorializing the deceased...taking a family photo as if the kid was still alive. I couldn't make this up even if I wanted to...could you imagine the outrage today if your kid died and you took her to the JC Penney portrait studio for one last photo shoot, and then posted them joints up on Facebook? I don't even know how to properly respond to the question I just posed.Anyway, I'm sure this girl eventually went on to have a lovely, if not mediocre, life. Maybe she grew up embracing whatever technology she could, and would have a family of her own that she could subject to the torture of being assembled for a group photo. But in a sick, twisted way, now that I've exposed certain theories, it's kinda hard not to imagine she pissed herself to death in fear of her mother and the camera. Yes, I know that kind of speculation is not right, and perhaps there is something inherently wrong with me. But go team Flying Monkeys FTW!!   "'I love the phrase why is that?' says David Feldman, the author of the Imponderables series of books. David believes there is no question too obscure or too broad to answer. For me, I am basing the prompt question more in the terms of the intersection between your creativity and your knowledge. What do you understand about this universe of ours that few others realize?"Wow...what a question. The first thought that came to mind when I saw this prompt was the song "Why Is That?" by Boogie Down Productions , which uses biblical references to question differences between races, basically. But that's not gonna solve the question in this prompt, and I'm not feelin' like gettin' into all the discussions about religion and what it means to the color of one's skin.If I truly understood anything about this universe that few others did, wouldn't that make me some kind of genius? Like, the most scholarly of all the scholars? That would put me in some prestigious company, yo.  All I know- all I really think everyone should know about themselves in regards to the universe- is that I don't know everything, and there's practically an infinite amount of things to learn about that we should be trying to discover daily even at the most minimal of levels. The day we stop doing that is the day we start dying. Once we close off what the universe has to offer us, ya may as well pack it in and order your casket. It sounds so simple and cliché, and I know I'm not the only one who knows that, but it's the best I can do. I'm not some know-it-all, world beating super genius ...I'm just a guy who writes in his blog once in awhile and sometimes licks the knife when making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  "When you look in the mirror what do you see? While most of us can't leave home in order to find ourselves like in Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, we can self-explore. Remember one thing though: the place you put on your makeup is called a 'vanity' for a reason."Let's get two things straight right from the get-go: 1) I don't wear makeup, so the dual meaning of "vanity" doesn't apply to me; and 2) I was working at Borders Express when Eat, Pray, Love was released...I seem to remember most of my coworkers hating it, and my ex couldn't get through it; I think she said something about the author's tone being condescending or something, but she was turned off by it. I of course didn't read it, because back then fuck self-discovery and awareness...I was just trying to get through days so I could go home and do nothing and get wasted and go to bed so I could do it all again the next day 'cuz 'Murica!! or something. And I still try not to look in mirrors, because I don't like confrontation. I can change the image all I want but it's still the same person starin' back at me, and no kind of haircut or dye job or facial expression can just transform a personality overnight. If it were that easy, how confused would society be if multimillionaires became friendly and overly charitable and criminals took a pill to become good guys? Up becomes down and wrong becomes right. That's not how the world is intended to work, unfortunately. I know all the self-help jibber jabber about change and controlling one's destiny and all that. We show the world what we want them to see and blah blah blah. "We choose." I'm not saying that's wrong or that's right, and I'm not agreeing or disagreeing...I'm just not passing judgment, on you or me. There's too many variables at play to always be comfortable or upset with who we see, and if you were to ask me every day for a year that same question, you might get 365 different answers (if I didn't punch you out after hearing the same shit for a week or so first  ). Today also marks the last day of another Soundtracker challenge (I love that my predictive text thingy remembers "Soundtracker" too now), and as usual I'm out of days before I'm out of songs and bands. It feels weird that the Beastie Boys haven't shown up earlier on my playlist this month, because they're definitely in my top 5 of all-time favorite artists. You've probably heard me mention tons of times that I grew up a hip-hop kid, so I won't get into all that again. I remember when the Check Your Head album came out...the Beastie Boys' "comeback" record, with them playing live instruments. It was mind-blowing, because of the transition from frat house b-boys to the sample-heavy (and financially no longer possible to make) Paul's Boutique to something that slid nicely into the grunge, alternative aesthetic that was so popular at the time. I used to tape videos off MTV back then, and I remember one of my good friends telling me he caught "So What Cha Want" on VHS. It was the summer and we were hangin' out a lot...we kicked back with a few beers, popped the tape in, and started chillin'. And once those beers did their thang and this jam came on, we became the fourth and fifth Beastie Boys, dancin' around the living room in front of the tv with just shorts on and winter hats. Ahhh, to be young again. And it's also worth mentioning that if we're ever at any kind of function where Rockband is being played, I can do Adrock's, Mike D's, and MCA's verses in this song by myself, and score perfectly. Yes, if I go to my grave only having one talent in this life, it's that I own the mic during "So What Cha Want". "Well I'm Dr. Spock, I'm here to rock y'all... I want you off the wall if you're playin' the wall." Lyrics.   I must admit that in the last few years I've only seen a handful of Parks And Recreation episodes, but I used to watch it somewhat regularly and I did find it to be enjoyable...I'll probably catch the series finale on Hulu one night when I can't think of anything else to watch while falling asleep once I've caught up on other shows I'm more interested in. In the meantime though, I'll get a few chuckles from this set of Parks And Rec fan art . People sometimes ask me what it means to be successful. I stare blankly at them for a minute like I'm trying to do a significantly ridiculous math problem in my head, and then I remember these tips to make you appear smart . Sometimes it's not who you know, but what you know other people don't know you know when you otherwise don't know anything. In order to appeal to Andre The Blog Monkey (and not waste an opportunity to pass along a life lesson), here is the Banana Experiment . Yeah, I didn't get it at first either, and maybe it doesn't always apply in the real world, but don't say I never tried to educate you in this here slice of internet goodness. And finally, I'm not a Star Trek fan (or a fan of sci-fi in general), but it's sad anytime the world loses an icon like Leonard Nimoy. Much has been made about his final tweet , and it's a sweet thought that is sure to be just as much a part of his legacy as his Spock character, but it got me thinking...will Twitter become the destination for many people's quote-unquote famous last words? Is society trending in the direction of deaths trending on social media? As some of you think about what Nimoy's words might mean to you and how we view life through the lens of television and computers and technology, let's also look back at the last words uttered by some of the most notable people in history.And that's all I've got for you guys today. Still plenty of time to sign up for the next Official Round of the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" , which starts tomorrow (crap...that means I have to get the forum switched over and ready), and tomorrow's also "The 8th Annual Quill Awards Ceremony" as well. Good luck to everyone in the Unofficial Elimination-Style Fundraiser Challenge Blogapocalypses! Peace, you think you're slicker than grease, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
 "You are an ant. You look like an ant. You live in an ant colony with other ants. You think like an ant, and you do whatever it is that ants do everyday. There is one difference though...you will have to write a blog entry like an ant. The prompt is...What do I like/hate about being an ant. Oh, and one more thing...write all of your responses to any other blog prompts you write on from an ant's point of view. Don't forget! You're an ant!"Wow...good afternoon friends. Some of us have been impatiently waiting for Brother Nature 's prompt for today's "Big Reveal" in his "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" Unofficial Elimination-Style Fundraiser Challenge...and this is the prompt we've been given. Huh...I almost have no words. Of course, a few minutes after I read that prompt, I was tempted to just go with the notion passed along by Joel as a rebuttal to my "All I need is a prompt" remark..."Here's your prompt... ". I might've had considerable luck with that.And we're on a new, reshuffled team that features everyone who's been eliminated, versus all the people who haven't been eliminated. I like that idea. Has it been chaotic? Indeed. I still have no idea who is actually on what team (and honestly, I haven't had a clue most of the month even though teams were posted in plain view in the forum...I just kinda went along for the ride), and I know some people are still bouncing ideas off each other for logos and mottos or whatever. I put in my two cents, and everyone seemed to be using different currency, so fuck it...here's my team allegiance for today and tomorrow: Motto? We don't need no stinkin' motto when we've got a cool ass logo. Boom...done. Now, about this prompt...I'm sure some people are gonna dive head-first into it with all they've got and really get into the whole "Look at me! I'm a tiny dumb little ant!" routine, and that's fine. Good for them. More power to ya. Personally, I don't know if I can pull off that charade over two additional prompts and some music plus all the other crap I do in a typical Fivesixer  blog entry. I'm having a hard enough time trying to conceptualize this just for the 30DBC portion.You see, it's not easy being an ant. When you're practically the smallest moving thing on the earth that's capable of being seen by human eyes, everything is a mountain. The grass is a living, breathing mural of skyscrapers. Unexpected death is imminent; the fear of being crushed by something much larger is a birthright more so than an occupational hazard. They say every creature on the planet has advantages and disadvantages in comparison to the rest; our size may allow us into the tightest of places and our strength is legendarily out of proportion against the few millimeters we take up, but what good is that in the grand scheme of things? It's not enough to resist the soles of shoes or the waters of everyday nature. Humans marvel at the sight of me hauling breadcrumbs with a heart that deserves the full loaf. A million of us may march and still never know the freedoms given to other species. My home is the dust in your corners and the cracks in your sidewalks. The friendly sprinkle of rain on a summer day is a catastrophe, and Mother Nature doesn't have a Red Cross or FEMA to assist us. We're the true nomads of the world. We're ants. We may never be you, but we outnumber you, and we outsize you in the one category that separates the living from the dead: determination.  "Let's have a bit of flash fiction...a short story of no more than 50 words. Our topic is a hair cut or style gone awry. Did the stylist give you the wrong dye, or was talking on the phone and took a hunk out of your hair? Maybe the razor slipped and you now have a huge bald spot. Let's see what you can come up with."Well, I'm not gonna count words, but I'll try to keep this brief. My youngest brother had a few episodes in the early days of his life (we're 14 years apart) where he tried to cut his own hair. But only one little hunk here or there. And he'd get it good...real close, almost down to the scalp. Months later you could still see that something wasn't right where he'd taken to trimming. I had a set of clippers for cutting my own hair, and one day he told me he wanted his hair cut short like mine. I took him out on our back porch and buzzed off most of his hair...really short. He was pleased, and he no longer looked like he tried to cut his own hair. My stepmom came home that afternoon and looked a little distressed. She asked us if everything was ok, and we assured her all was fine and asked why. She didn't even notice Mikey's head. She just saw tufts of hair by the stairs of the back porch, and thought our dog attacked a rabbit or something along those lines. Took her a few minutes to realize it was her son's hair and not a dead animal.  "Let's explore dreams...do you believe that dreams are about things that have happened or are about to happen? Do you feel they have significance in your life? Or they simply amusement?"I can tell you that from my perspective, dreams are not amusement. Not for me they're not. In most cases they're twisted versions of various realities I once lived through, and oftentimes they're enough not only to wake me up, but also fill me with a sense of disappointed disillusionment. Just the other day, for example, I dreamt that I was riding a really sweet BMX bike that also somehow was outfitted with a killer stereo system (I don't know how that would happen, and I was never one to pull off crazy trickridin' skills). I rode into the parking lot of a store I used to work at about 15 years ago, as if I was still working there, but no one recognized me or seemed to care that I was there. I left, and on my way home I had to pass a store my ex worked at (in real life they were about two blocks and about ten years apart). She was outside smoking with some of her coworkers, so I tried to go a different route around her building so she wouldn't see me...I was doing all these wild bunny hops from building to building like I was on some old Nintendo biking game, bouncing around. And somehow she still saw me, and started yelling at me, but I rode off through a field...and that's how I woke up. I felt guilty, like I'd done something wrong but didn't know at the time I was doing anything wrong. There was shame...and when you have trouble sleeping like I do, waking up under circumstances like that can really fuck with your head for awhile. I guess you could say dreams have some significance, but they don't predict the future as much as they bastardize my past. For years I used to not be able to remember most of them when I woke up; as I've gotten older I wish I could forget them faster. They usually don't make much sense in the present other than to remind me of the things that have gone wrong in life. Maybe this is normal, and I'm complaining about something everyone goes through, but you never seem to hear others say they always have messed up dreams. I tried keeping a dream journal at the recommendation of my therapist, but he never brought it up again and every time I've looked back at it with intentions of mentioning it to him it's too depressing to bother. So anyway, yeah...dreams. Not my favorite subject. If only there were a sleeping aid that not only worked consistently, but also ensured nice dreams...life would be so much more manageable then. Pharmaceutical companies (don't get me started on 'em) seem to have a pill for damn near everything else out there that ails ya, so much more so today than 20 or 50 years ago; imagine the killing they'd make offering a "Sweet Dreams" med. I'd seriously consider taking that, side affects be damned. I'm not ashamed to have grown up as a teenager in the Beavis And Butthead generation. Watching that show exposed me to different kinds of music I might not have paid attention to if they were just played on MTV (yes, back in the era of videos still being played on television)...seeing a couple of teenage misfits offering commentary over these songs in between sketches of the stupid shit they'd do added a different layer of entertainment that seemed fresher than someone just introducing a video or dropping a little bit of "Did you know..." trivia. And because I was an impressionable teenage boy, I thought they were funny as hell (if you like stupid things being funny).I probably never would've gotten into Primus has I not seen the video for "My Name Is Mud" on Beavis And Butthead...although I wouldn't say I'm some kind of superfan or anything. I do know though that if you asked me to create a biographical cd, nine times outta ten this song would be on it...not because of its excellent bassline, but because there's a bit of an icky creep factor at play. I think we've all got a little bit of that in us, and when combined with certain people or situations it can come out to the forefront. Some might be more accepting of particular traits, while others may find them absolutely distasteful. No need to judge...I try not to, because if I took the time some people did judging others, well, let's just say they'd have to lock us both up if I told you what I really thought.  How do you not click on a link that reads "Convenient K-mart Ad Compiles Every Sneaker Brand Kids Hate" ? I can definitely concur with the notion that back in the day, these were pretty much the only sneakers you did not want to be caught dead in. I never worked in a record store (Borders Express doesn't count because we only sold a handful of cds, which were generally just one or two of the biggest new releases each month or so), and I really wish in some of my other jobs I'd have had the presence of mind to stash a notebook under the counter so I could keep track of some of the weirdest customer encounters I've experienced. Forget a website slideshow or a blog; I'd probably have a book that's already been adapted into a cult-classic movie by now. And finally, in case you're wondering (and if you're not, then maybe you are one) if you're a douchebag, here are the signs you should be looking for. As always, what may be common knowledge to most of us can often be overlooked as nonsense by others. Well, in my time-honored tradition of ignoring and/or skirting prompts, rules, authorities and other social directions, I believe my work here is done for this evening. Peace, so I've been told, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
 Elimination Day.Hey guys...sorry for the prolonged absence and everything. I just really needed to finish judging the Official January Round of the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" (again, congrats to abcoachnz-Sometimes around  , Elle - on hiatus  , Fran 💜 💜 💜 , skeason , and Charlie ~  ). And for some reason I keep wiping out entries accidentally while typing...it happened twice on Saturday, so I gave up, and that usually leads me to not wanting to write for awhile, which is hard for me to pull myself out of. To make matters worse, I'm on my second attempt now at this entry because I tried to switch tabs for a second and wound up hitting the back button instead. My fat fingers are uncoordinated morons.And in all of this mess, I've come to find out that I've been one of the last to be eliminated from Brother Nature 's Unofficial Elimination-Style Fundraiser Challenge Event Thing...I've never felt more confused and alive at the same time. Does that mean I still have to write about today's prompt? Did we even get a prompt? Feels like there's been too my emails, IM's and forum posts since the last prompt I remember seeing, and I'm too lazy/spent to go back looking. But do I get an exit interview? Any parting shots gifts? Anything? I'll just take the satisfaction that my end of the participation chain is over, and I can see how this plays out over the next two days if I so choose from a safe distance. Good luck to the fortunate few still stuck in this madness duking it out for the sake of the blogging community...as the good doctor Hunter S. Thompson once said, "Buy the ticket; take the ride.", and I have and did and will.  "What items do you put on your walls? Posters, pictures? I am curious."Huh...never thought I'd be asked that question. Might sound silly, 'cuz I'm not expecting any of y'all cats to come around here anytime soon, but I just figured whatever you guessed would be on my walls is what's actually on them. Although...this is a rental, and I'm not into puttin' holes in the walls that I'll have to worry about at a later date. I actually don't have a whole lot goin' on in this place...some adhesive hooks for jackets and hoodies, a wooden clock my uncle made, and a calendar which ironically doesn't do much to help me remember what day it is. Oh, and a mirror, in case I ever want to see how terrible my hair looks on any particular day. That's it. I'm not going crazy on decorating because I don't plan on being here forever, it's a small space, and I don't really have a whole lot of stuff to begin with anymore. Plus, I pretty much outgrew posters after high school, and most of the photographs I own are of people I don't wish to be reminded of on a consistent basis. If I want to look at pictures I'll go on Facebook. And I've always been a bit of a minimalist anyway with the decorating. Let someone who's more capable at it do the damn thing. I couldn't really be bothered; I'd rather be sprucing up the place with language anyway. Playing to my strengths. I'm not out to impress anyone right now...if you're looking at what my walls say about me for clues as to who I am, maybe you should take a closer look at me instead. Jus' sayin'.  "Tell us about the crime rate in your area. What sort of crimes seem to happen most often?"Again, not a question I think I've ever been asked before. It's not like people have thought to visit by pondering the statistical chance they'll be robbed or murdered in my vicinity. It usually doesn't come up in conversation. And I'll speak on this topic in Buffalo terms, because that's what I'm most familiar with even though I reside in Cortland (which is much closer to Syracuse)...for some reason I still seem to get more news updates from Western NY than the central part of the state, but that's what happens when you rely on Facebook as your primary news source on most days. Also, most of the crimes around here seem to be more petty, like chickens getting stolen and meth-heads fighting over their last few teeth. And like many places, some years are worse than others, but if I had to guess (and I am because I'm far too lazy to Google any actual statistics) I'd say murder is the biggest problem as far as reported and known-of crimes. Buffalo isn't the murder capital of the world by any means, but someone's always gettin' shot up or stabbed if you pay any attention to the news. The only plus to that is there doesn't seem to be a whole lot of "white collar crime", but that's probably due to the dwindling amount of white collars in the area. But that doesn't mean it's an unsafe community. Crime happens everywhere unfortunately, and often it's the most sensational of occurrences that become the ones you hear the most about. It's not "who died", but "who's watching" that broadcasters seem to focus on. Ratings trump results; details are secondary. If you're basing where you want to live on what you see during a half-hour news telecast, you wouldn't move anywhere. And you might laugh at that, but you know it's true. Earlier this week it was announced out of nowhere that Blur is dropping a new album in 2015 , which is quite a surprise because everything out in the press had been leaning toward this not happening for quite some time, if ever. It's pretty exciting, because they're one of my favorite bands.And I think that during the whole mid-nineties Britpop explosion that crossed over to the US, which gave us Oasis and Radiohead primarily, Blur got overlooked. They were just the band with the "Woo Hoo!" song that played at hockey arenas whenever the home team scored.I really dug "Song 2" though, and as a young adult consumer I wanted to check out more of this band, but with minimal risk in case all their songs didn't sound like that one and I didn't like them...so I joined a record club. And I selected Blur's greatest hits compilation. Y'all know record clubs...you've seen the ads: "Get 12 cds for a penny!" and you rip off the stamps depicting the cds you want and tape a penny to a card and mail it in, and six weeks later you get a box full of cds with a bill for $32 because shipping & handling...and you have to buy more at ridiculously marked up prices, because suddenly it's a commitment and the more you buy, the more they give you, and there's almost no end in sight. But there is...because no one pays them. Don't be lookin' at me like you ain't never stiffed a record club, because everyone's done it at some point...I don't care how innocent you are or how perfect your damn credit is. Oh sure, they might send you a collection notice, and that $32 s&h charge becomes $57.28 after awhile with interest, until it gets sent to another agency that's willing to settle for $17.45, and you pay it no mind because eventually it gets written off. It costs them more to try and track down your delinquent ass than what you owe them, or even the actual value of the merchandise you received. But you didn't hear none of that from me  .And this is the first song on that Blur compilation, which I listened to in heavy rotation when my extended family took that Caribbean cruise many Easters ago. "Beetlebum". I know what it's really about (heroin), but to me it's also about not doing anything...being lazy, letting life get out from under you for a bit, and not worrying about any repercussions. There's a nervous sense of enjoyment I attach to this song...maybe because of what I was feeling when I was really getting into the music along with the situations I was in between family and the girl I was dating at the time back home and being on a vacation of that magnitude. I could just wake up, have breakfast, pop in my earphones, grab a spot down next to the bar on the boat for awhile with some Long Island Iced Teas, and lay in the sun with zero fucks to give for a week. Sure, life would catch up to me eventually...but it'd have to catch me first, and I wasn't gonna let it for as long as possible. "She turns me on and all my violence is gone... Nothing is wrong. I just slip away and I am gone." Lyrics.  Special shout-out to all my people who have worked in bookstores before and had to write recommendations or "Staff Picks". Sometimes it's not that easy, and not everyone wants to force you to read something you're probably not interested in. Sure, we're enthusiastic about our favorite titles, but more often than not it's upper management wanting us to push certain books because companies make deals with different publishers (but rarely come around to see what you really think). Because I haven't written an entry all week, I've got a slight backlog of bizarre little nuggets of human hatred things I've come across on the internet that have, ummm, touched me in a way the average story might not, for lack of a better set of phrasing...and the following link appeals to my longtime retail background. Apparently there's a segment of Target shoppers who have failed at the very basic task of carrying a basket throughout a store . And you know what really makes me sad about this? That I'm never there in person when something like this goes down.  Why is it, speaking of crime, that more often than not when you come across a news article regarding some kind of ridiculous, absurd, deviant behavior, the headline always seems to start out Florida Man Accused Of...? Why does the weirdest shit happen in Florida? What's wrong with them? No, seriously...something is not right in the Sunshine State. It's gotten so universally accepted that there's a Twitter account specifically dedicated to Florida Man (which of course I follow, because it's that trainwreckish). I've been to Florida a couple of times, and thankfully have never had to witness the crazy that happens down there, but like I alluded to earlier...if I were basing where I wanted to live on what I read or saw in the news, forget Florida. Except this guy ...he seemed kinda cool, but he's dead now anyway.And I think that's as good a place as any to end tonight's conversation with you. Maybe I'll see ya again sometime. Peace, because you're young, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
 "What are your thoughts on surprise parties? I’m in the process of planning two – yes, two. One is a baby shower and one is a 40th birthday bash. Have you ever had a surprise party thrown for you? Do you even like surprises? Have you ever had to throw a surprise party?" (Courtesy of Julie D - PUBLISHED! .)What's up y'all? It's too bad I've put off writing this entry for as long as I have today, because (at least most of it) came to me almost as soon as I read the prompts last night. I have a bit of a good excuse though...I spent too much time this afternoon looking for an old blog entry I swear I've written at some point over the years, but regardless of the keywords I've used in the entry search bar, nothing's come up so far. I haven't exhausted all my options, but I have exhausted myself in the process. Anyway, let's see...how do I wanna get at this prompt? My thoughts generally regarding surprise parties...are pretty much whatever. If I'm invited to one, that's cool. I'll go along with it, and I don't spill secrets like that about 'em. I can play dumb, or any kind of role necessary so as not to give away anything. Have I had to lie before in order to pull off the charade and keep the surprisee in the dark? Well, let's just say truths have been compromised and mangled, and I've paid for it with playful punches to the arm afterward ("But you said...!", followed by me lying again when I said the punch didn't hurt  ).As for having parties thrown for me, I'm not a fan but that's because I don't get too excitable about people making a big deal over me. I'm not crazy about the attention. And surprises in general are always tricky to navigate once more than a few people are involved. My dad and stepmom tried to throw me a surprise 21st birthday party, and went so far as to call my boss well in advance to see if he'd give me the day off after explaining the situation. And my boss was a really cool guy, but for some reason he was a complete dick to my folks about it, and that pretty much put the kibosh on the "surprise" aspect of the festivities. It worked out so that the party itself didn't need to be cancelled or rescheduled or anything, but that's not the point. Have I ever had to throw one? Sorta. My ex's 40th. Her sister asked me what I thought we should do, and I suggested the surprise. She went along and hosted it, and her husband grilled, and it was a huge success. I brought food, drinks and snacks, helped with the theme, guest list and decorating, and pulled off the hard work...the actual "gotchya". My ex was working down the road for her sister's house, so I got everyone in attendance (maybe 30 people?) into the garage and put the garage door opener in my pocket. As we returned and made it up the driveway I stealthily opened the garage door, everyone yelled "Surprise!" and it truly caught her off guard. It was awesome. What wasn't awesome was that her folks down in Florida gave her sister all the credit and didn't seem to give a rat's ass that I had anything to do with it. Not gonna lie; that really hurt and kinda pissed me off...especially the next time they came up to visit and her mom said to me "Wow, [ex's sister] really did a great job with the party, didn't she?" Yeah, we did a fantastic job. I wasn't shy about that. I think in this day and age, with all the conveniences we have at our disposal, some aspects of party planning are easier and some are harder. You can invite people via Facebook, but hope no one spills secrets in the run-up. The way we share information now means you can tell everyone immediately...and the bigger the chance there is of something going wrong. Back in the day, the biggest concern was that people would forget something or invites would be lost in the mail...now it's hoping you can trust the loudmouth coworker friend not to burst with the details. Execution is still the most critical part of the whole scheme though...as long as that gets pulled off smoothly and the person doesn't suspect a thing, you could serve canned peas and lemon jello and the surprisee will still be floating on air all night. And in the end, that's all that matters.  "The Lottery Ticket...Anton Chekhov wrote the most evocative short story about winning the lottery. His take about human nature was fascinating. I highly recommend reading this great story. Take me on your adventure with newfound money...what would you do if you were suddenly rich?"I don't believe I've ever read this story...and if I have I don't remember it. I know I've read The Lottery by Shirley Jackson, but I don't think that's the same thing even if I don't remember exactly how that story went either. But yo, c'mon...we've all played that kids' game before of "What Would You Do If You Won A Million Dollars" or whatever variation you picked. You'd guess average values of shit based partially also on what you'd be willing to spend, and see how much money you'd have left over or how much more you'd need based on your ridiculousness, and you know when you're kids no one thinks about taxes or insurance or anything like that, along with typically grossly underestimating the price of a car or a house or a leopard-skin pillbox hat . Kids are geniuses and all, but they're usually lousy financial advisors.Anyway, if I'm being honest, nothing would change too dramatically for me right off the bat if I became suddenly rich. I'd have to wait first and make sure everything's legit...see that the check clears, hope no mobsters show up on the scene, you know. All the stuff in movies that goes wrong for you once you get stupid rich suddenly. No immediate lavish parties, no purchases I'd regret as soon as the return policy expires, and no fur coats or expensive jeans my ass would probably outgrow...because one thing I'd do is start eating out a little more, and you know that ain't the healthiest of options. I would buy a lot of stupid little shit though (and I know...that's what really kills ya when you've got extra spending money)...I'd make sure I was stocked up on essentials like toiletries and peanut butter cups. I'd have an extra pack of smokes nearby so I wouldn't have to worry about goin' out to get more whenever I run out. And I might splurge on all those albums that've come out recently that I said I couldn't wait to get but had to wait 'cuz I'm poor. But I wouldn't go crazy, because I wouldn't want to see my hard-earned lottery winnings go away...at least not until I knew my taxes were paid and I squirrelled enough away to make sure I'd be financially stable for the next long while. And I can say all that, because I think you and I both know I won't be coming into a fortune like that anytime soon. It's kinda ironic that today's BCF prompt covers instant fortune. I think we all know the fastest way to the riches besides the lottery is fame, and if there was one person who wasn't equipped with the ability to manage his success it was Kurt Cobain. He would've turned 48 today had his demons (I hate when people use that word in such a manner, but that wont stop me here) and whatnot failed to catch up with him. I've been a Nirvana fan longer than I've been an adult, which isn't saying much the older I get, but with a lot of bands and artists on my playlist this month, they came along and hit me while I was on that bridge between youth and adulthood. I remember the explosion into fame, the coping with success, the questions and the new sets of struggles that came with it. I could be talking about Nirvana, or I could be talking about anyone who was having a hard time adjusting to life and all of its changes between the ages of 18 and 24. And that's where I was the day he was found dead...18; unsure of how things were gonna play out for me but thinking I was in a pretty good spot as far as the adulthood transition was going. I still remember the moment, like many remember JFK or John Lennon. I just went up to my room, closed the door, threw on the last studio recording of his (at the time), and I went through all the emotions that came with it once more. The very first song on In Utero is "Serve The Servants", and that could very well have been about my own complicated relationship not only with both my parents, but with who I was growing up and into as a person. I never thought I was popular or that many people truly liked me for who I was, but I was shedding my high school skin as well and it seemed like that was a good thing. What I wasn't ready for though was the shifting of responsibilities and the feelings that could come with people actually paying attention to me and taking an interest in what I was doing as opposed to just seeing me around because they had no other choice. It was liberating, but at what price to my privacy and innocence? It's a fine line to walk, between being a loser nobody and being someone people began to respect. I may not have initially handled it well, and in the long run I know it looks like at times I haven't, but I can at least say I survived it.  I follow a lot of music websites on Facebook, so naturally there were a bunch of different posts relating to Kurt Cobain's birthday...I didn't read them all; most were just articles being rerun from past magazine issues (except the bizarre story about one of his old credit cards going up for auction, which...I don't care how much money I had or what kind of crazy completeist-fan fetish I might have, who needs that?). I did find this story , which originally ran on the tenth anniversary of his death, to be somewhat meaningful when trying to reconcile his rise and success with his suicide. Switching subjects, I had no idea that last night was the final episode of the CBS sitcom Two And A Half Men. Not that it mattered to me; I never watched it regularly and hadn't even seen an episode with Ashton Kutcher after he replaced Charlie Sheen, so it wasn't a big deal. The only time there was ever any debate about its presence in my life was when I first started dating my ex...she would watch reruns on one channel at 7:30pm, and I used to watch Family Guy reruns (until I started spending more time at her place) at the same time. It became this big discussion over what was funnier, and what was appropriate for her teenage boys to watch...TAAHM was somehow ok, but FG wasn't, even though both were filled with fart jokes and sexual innuendo and really the biggest difference between the two shows was the cartoon featuring the traditional family and the television show with live actors wasn't traditional in any sense. Anyway, long story not-so-long, I eventually won that battle and Family Guy was watched in our house with more regularity because it was funnier. And how do I know that? Because if you've never watched Two And A Half Men at all, ever in your life, this is all you need to know from having watched the last episode. And finally, tomorrow night is the Pre-Quill Awards Gala Event, which, if it's anything like it was last year, should not be missed. No guarantees on the odds of me behaving myself. And that's where I'm gonna close the curtains on tonight's entry. Peace, I just want you to know, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
 "Write a story that includes fish sticks in some central way. Yup, that's right. Fish sticks. Frozen, fried fish sticks."What's goin' on people? Three prompts and a song, so I might as well get down to business...except there's a bit of a problem. These are kinda tough prompts. Or maybe I'm just not really in a mood to think. Either option works; reader's choice. Let's start with the fish sticks one, if only to get it out of the way because I don't really have a story to go along with it, and most of you know how I feel about inventing fiction for the purpose of filling up a blog entry (as a refresher, I'm not into it). But it's funny how this prompt got thrown into circulation this week, given that yesterday was Ash Wednesday if you're keeping score at home on your Catholic calendar. This marks the start of the traditional Lenten season, where you're supposed to give up something for the 40 days before Easter lest an angry Jesus returns all zombie-like to sentence you to eternal hellfire because you're a greedy, undisciplined bitch to, I dunno, maybe get chocolate bunnies and jelly beans and shit. You're also not supposed to eat meat on Fridays, because animals matter, but for some reason it's ok to eat fish...probably 'cuz they don't have any feelings .Obviously, I don't do the Catholic thing these days, for many reasons (too many restrictions, for starters, but that's a topic for a whole 'nother time). I was, however, brought up to be Catholic, so we observed a lot of the traditions...went to mass and Sunday School, put a buck in the collection plate, and never lied to priests (except that one time our class pissed off the teacher, so she gave up and let us do whatever we wanted...my buddy and I stole some chalk, drew dead body outlines in front of the school's doorway, and roamed around the building 'til a priest found us in the basement. I forget what we told him when he asked why we were down there, but I can assure you it was definitely a lie, because for days we were positive God was somehow gonna punish us for lying to a priest. Also, we were like 10 years old, so we were indestructible to mere men of the cloth.). But I digress... So we really tried to not eat meat on Fridays, which, man, I don't think I could ever do now, because meat and I have a relationship that transcends organized religion.  What that meant when we were young and poor was that there were a lot of Fish Stick Fridays. Because when you're a kid, the novelty of some foods almost trumps taste and nutritional value. You know that when you're a parent and your kid won't eat anything else but Frosted Flakes so you give up and you're like "I don't care, go ahead and eat cereal for dinner!" and you say it like you're actually scolding the child but deep down you're just satisfied the li'l sumbitch'll eat anything (as I alluded to yesterday, this is just one of the many reasons why I'm not a parent). Now where was I? Oh yeah...fish sticks. I love 'em. I don't care if it's probably the worst god damn fish in the world, pulled out of a swamp by some hobo with a tin can tied to a stick with a piece of string. It could come out of the sewer for all I care. It probably doesn't even have to be formerly amphibious or reptilian or whatever fish are also scientifically known as. If it says "Fish Sticks" on the box, please pass the ketchup, because it's for me. Bonus points if there's a guy on the box wearing a raincoat looking like instead of a fishing pole he should have a hook for a hand straight up out a horror flick.  "Where was your hangout spot as a teenager? Have you been back there since adulthood?"This is tough, because I never really had a "spot", and now I'm thinking to myself "What the hell did I do in my teenage years?" I played a lot of sports, but there were parks and fields for that...there was a predominant Catholic girls' high school/co-ed college in my mom's neighborhood where we'd play football on the corner lot of their property until the nuns would chase us off, and we'd get pretty mouthy with them, but I never really considered that "hangin' out" because besides the nuns we were staying out of trouble. When I think of teenagers hangin' out, it mainly consists of idle kids bored and waiting for problems to find them by doing stuff they probably shouldn't be...and that's not to say I didn't get into my share of bad decision-making, but there wasn't ever really a dedicated location for that. There was always the local mall on the weekends, under the guise of "lookin' for chicks" or whatever we called it...teenage boys didn't go to the mall to shop. We went to walk around, practice our game talkin' to girls, trying to get phone numbers, and- depending on who you were with- shoplifting may or may not have happened. Because boys are dumb, and there's always that one kid no one really wants to invite but his parents were good for a ride either to the Galleria or back (presuming there were no trips to the police station involved). Sometimes I'd go to the mall with my cousin and his friends, when I'd stay at my dad's on the weekends...and we got tossed out of the mall once for kickin' around a street hockey ball. Not ideal "busy mall on a Saturday night" behavior. And this was before cell phones, which complicated everything because we couldn't get a hold of my aunt or uncle to pick us up (they agreed to get us when the mall was closed, not when security decided we weren't welcome anymore). It was a bit ridiculous, because I guess whomever was coming to get us, if I remember correctly, was actually shopping at the mall before meeting us, and we had no idea. So here's like six or seven kids, schemin' for payphone quarters and ways to get back into the mall without getting caught (because the only thing you could rely on more back then besides teenage boys acting like over-hormoned skin bags was their paranoia of being busted a second time by rent-a-cops), and it was all useless because our ride was somewhere on the property but there wasn't a way to establish contact. Believe me when I say that life used to be hard.  "You have just cloned yourself. What responsiblities will you give your clone?"First of all, have we even decided that me cloning myself is a good idea? Because I'm not convinced it is, and I've been trying for the better part of the afternoon to talk myself into the idea. And that hard part is, I know myself, so I don't think I'd be able to get away with just making my clone do all the shit I don't wanna do. And to make matters worse, what if people somehow like my clone better than they like me? What if the clone manages to bite his tongue at the right time, or possesses a restraint that might elude me on occasion? How do I know there already isn't a clone of me living in some sort of parallel universe, and he's won Pulitzer Prizes because blogging on that world is the most acceptable form of communication and entertainment? What then is left for me to do here on Earth, if my clone is super awesome somewhere else? Don't answer that. Don't answer any of that. Let's just assume I'd have some power of control over this new version of me. No doubt would I use him as a test subject to say and do all the things I'm too chickenshit to do, within reason. He could talk politely to strangers who are just trying to be friendly while he's eating. He'd fly a little off the handle over the minor injustices perpetrated against him by all the rude idiots of the world, instead of just letting things slide. And he would definitely take chances and the low road to ensure his success. Who am I kidding? If I did all that, this duplicate would be in jail within a week. But maybe that's all a part of my evil plan...I never said I had this scientific cloning thing all fool-proof and figured out. ** Image ID #1970900 Unavailable ** I'm not always 100% comfortable around large groups of people that I don't know especially well...maybe I could use a clone to keep me company in those situations. I'm outgoing to an extent, but more often than not I'd prefer being by myself or in small groups, away from crowds. I've been invited to places like weddings and luncheons and gatherings where the only person I knew was the one who asked me to go. And I would say yes, because it always seemed like a good idea at the time...but sometimes I need to experience being overwhelmed before I realize that there are some things I'm just not cut out for. It sucks, because of the way some circumstances have the tendency to end badly. Everyone means well; life just has other plans. I'd heard this song a ton of times- I had the tape not long after it came out (and well before Billy Corgan turned into a caricature of himself)- but the significance didn't really hit me 'til maybe ten years later. Me and my boy DMFM were coming back from a cookout with friends and friends of friends (mostly people he went to school with), and there was a bit of a lull in the conversation. It was a drive on the longer side, and it wasn't a bad time, but I wasn't entirely at ease (looking back now on the whole thing and knowing what I know about myself). "Soma" by Smashing Pumpkins came on the stereo, and it'd been awhile since I'd last heard it...because we were quiet, I just listened to it like I'd normally listen to music with headphones on in solitude. Really taking in the words; letting the emotion build with the crescendo of the song. It hit me that I might always have friends, and there will be people that for whatever reason come into my life, but I will also be alone, and maybe there's a part of me that will always feel like that. Even among people I know and love. It's hard to know sometimes who's with you and who's against you. It's hard for me to trust people because you don't always know their intentions, and you're not exactly certain where you or where they're gonna be in five, ten, or twenty years' time. I've made the mistake of befriending people because maybe I was put in a position to make a difference or be something I wasn't entirely capable of. And I don't doubt people have thought the same about me. But sometimes we have to deal with being alone, because in the end all you really have is you. "I'm all by myself... as I've always felt. I'll betray myself...to anyone, lost, anyone but you." Lyrics. 1975: I'm a love bunny! Well, ok, I'm not entirely sure about that, but today is the Chinese New Year (I half-expected to see a prompt somewhere about that), and I'm not crazy into any of that zodiac stuff or the idea that my birth year means anything...even if this description seems to be somewhat fitting for me. Yo Vanilla...looks like you kicked it one too many times , booooyyyyyyy. It's true we'll cover lots of thousands of miles over the course of our lives, but maybe you've never thought of distances these random things may possibly go. Personally, some of these are spot-on; others...not so much. And finally, this is why I'll never be a teacher (outside of the obvious lack of qualifications). I'd never be able to keep my composure if these were my students.Ok, well, I hope this whole thing doesn't sound as challenging as it felt like writing it. Peace, close your eyes, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
 "Don't write! Read! Go back and look over all the prompts, all the instructions, the objectives, and the requests I have made of the players. Read the comments I have made on your blog entries and the comments I have made on the blog entries you haven't read."What's up you guys? Am I missing something in today's "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" prompt (outside of the fact that I'm blatantly ignoring the very first sentence)? So, then, there's no prompt today?  But then this afternoon we were given the option of writing an entry based on "this rant of a prompt", which can be read in its entirety here: "One Rant, One Prompt, One elimination." . I think what that means is something from this excerpt: "Maybe I'm easily discouraged, or overly sensitive to negativity, but I've decided to hold off on the next stage of the game so people can reflect on the whole concept of what this month's challenge is all about, and what objectives I have set out for you all from the very beginning. When I was a young man I asked a friend of mine, who was a career journalist and a freelance writer: 'What do I have to do to become a writer?' He told me, 'You have to read.'" And I'm not sure what to say about that, because looking back I can see I might've made a remark here or there that could've been construed as "negative criticism", whining, or general douchebaggery depending on your perception. I'm not gonna argue one way or the other for my case. This is a contest/fundraiser. People get eliminated. There have been stipulations. People aren't always gonna be 100% satisfied with all the given outcomes. That's part of what we have to live with. Running something like this, as I've stated before to some of the contestants at the onset of eliminations, isn't easy. Maybe I should've kept that in mind yesterday when I spouted off at the end of my entry, and been respectful of the process (even if we don't know what the process really is) and Brother Nature 's role. I'll reiterate what I've said earlier this month as well...Joel's doing a great job. He's kept this fun and interesting. I'm very thankful for his hard work and effort. And I appreciate everyone who's come out to support him in making this an incredible February so far. Anytime the word "competition" gets attached to something, there's always a chance that someone's gonna go a little bit above and beyond what's expected or considered "acceptable" in terms of fair play with minimal rules. Things will get said during the heat of battle, and given the often one-dimensional nature that blogging can be sometimes, there's ample room for misinterpretation and misunderstanding. That doesn't excuse myself or anyone else, and it's not fair to Joel that he has to feel like this is generating any negativity or ill will when the reality is that he's doing something amazing for all of us. So with that, if I came across in a way that smacked anyone of negativity, I apologize. Again, I can't thank Joel enough for running this month, and I'm very grateful for all of you generous people who have been a part of it. I just saw the layout for the rest of this month, and I think we've got a really good thing happening, going forward. It'll be interesting, to say the least. So good luck to everyone still with us...let's have some fun and prove why this is still best blogging community on WDC. Also, I'm not sorry for writing this when we were actually told not to write anything today . "'Life is a book and there are a thousand pages I have not yet read.' -Cassandra Clare. Do you agree with this?"Hang on...first I need to Google Cassandra Clare. Ok then...as taken from her website she "...write(s) urban fantasy novels for young adults...". I don't know why I needed to know this before addressing her quote; maybe I just wanted to know if she was a real person or not. The name didn't ring a bell, and all that really tells me now is that it's been too long since I last worked in a bookstore.First, this quote reminds me of a bit from Louis CK's show where he's driving with his kids, and the one is complaining that she's bored..."'I’m bored’ is a useless thing to say. I mean, you live in a great, big, vast world that you’ve seen none percent of. Even the inside of your own mind is endless; it goes on forever, inwardly, do you understand? The fact that you’re alive is amazing, so you don’t get to say ‘I’m bored.'".And that's so true, especially in this day and age, with all the technology we have present. No one should have a reason to say they're bored, because there are literally billions of things we could be doing or reading about or learning up on. That's our life; that's always been life. There are discoveries waiting to be made, large or small. Opportunities exist to fill your mind with all sorts of information. And because of the internet, almost anyone can become a pocket genius on any subject within ten minutes (though maybe sometimes that's not particularly a good thing if you don't know how to properly disseminate information). I'd even argue that by saying life is a book with a thousand pages still unread, Clare might be selling it short. Think about it...if the average person visited three different webpages a day for a year, that's over 1,000 potential pages of knowledge you might not have had the year before. Even if you read three personal blogs a day, in the course of a year you might've learned over 1,000 things about various people and their experiences you probably had no idea about. Sounds pretty amazing, right? So I'm no parent or nothin', and I'm probably one of the last people anyone should be taking parenting advice from, but the next time your kid tells you they're bored, enlighten them with the idea that their book of life and all they know about it has only a few of the many thousands of pages in it as it should, and that they need to get to work on filling it up. Then go enjoy yourself a glass of wine and think about how you'll thank me later.  "February 18th is National Battery Day and Pluto Day. On this day in 1745 Count Alessandro Volta, who invented the electric battery, was born. On this 1930 Pluto was discovered. Chose one or both of these events and write a story, poem, rant, song, or something about it."I had no idea about either of these things (See? Boom! Two things crossed off today's list of things I didn't know!). Prior to this entry, if you'd told me today was National Battery Day, I would've presumed either it had something to do with Metallica or fans of Philadelphia sports teams (apologies to both Julie D - PUBLISHED! and Lyn's a sly fox  ). But batteries are a very common thing, so let's just give thanks to Count Volta (and his awesome ultimate supervillain name, which here's hoping that battery- as in "Assault &..."- isn't one of his powers) and move on.So Pluto...as in the Disney dog, or the planet that most of us grew up thinking was a planet, until it wasn't, but it might be again someday, along with like 4,000 other celestial bodies? And people say math is hard...science is by far trickier when they pull this astronomical chicanery on us every so often. What do you do when your kid comes home from school and tells you Pluto isn't a planet, and you're so busy being a parent that you're like "Duh, it's the 9th planet! We learned that in like second grade or whatever!"? And now you're getting into an argument with a child who is apparently smarter than you...nice goin'. Is there also a "National Pluto Is No Longer A Planet" day? Because if we're gonna celebrate something that doesn't exist in its current form anymore, we should maybe think about gettin' down on the day it's no longer that thing too. Seems legit. If people celebrate birthdays and deaths and anniversaries and divorces, why not the "I told you so!" and the "I told you it's not so!"? Ohhh, science. Where's my man Neil DeGrasse Tyson stand on all this? Another song from my youth...I remember being 15, and riding my bike to the mall to pick up Public Enemy's Fear Of A Black Planet on cassette with the money from my fast-food job (I also bought the MC Hammer tape that day as well, but that's not nearly as important ). It might have been with one of my first paychecks too.I was already into the "furious mixture of noise" that was PE's signature sound, but this was another level of social awareness and political activism that felt more like a manifesto than a musical statement. It stood to prove that long after the Civil Rights movement, racism was still alive and well even if it didn't exist in the same fashion we were taught to believe it once did. If anything, this album served to modernize something I wasn't seeing on my local TV news, and it put faces to struggles I had no real idea about being a white kid in a first-ring suburb. Not only did I gain a lot of knowledge about history when I listened to Public Enemy, but they also taught me more about compassion than I would've ever learned in my neihborhood. Role models could come from all walks of life- society liked to tell us that in the eighties and nineties- but a lot of kids were still discouraged from listening to "that ghetto rap shit", as many older folks liked to say. This was accessible and influential music to me in the same respects The Beatles and punk were to generations before me, but with a new urgency. PE was, and still is, important (you can see a contemporary review of the album here )...not just in shaping me, but to countless others who were tired of being spoonfed what the media, popular culture, and certain institutions wanted people my age to believe. Two excellent articles today from Trending Buffalo...Joel, this first one doesn't really pertain to you because Winnipeg is pretty much in control of their own destiny at this point, but you might find this interesting, Julie and Lyn, since the Flyers aren't great this year. It has to do with the Sabres' "magic number" for finishing in last place this year, and it provides a not-so-scientific formula for establishing how far off the rest of the teams are from possibly being the worst in the league this year. The second one is a little more humorous, as it reveals a trait the Sabres' general manager looks for when assessing players available on the open market (hint: it rhymes with "alls" and starts with "ball"). Things, as they often do for most teams this time of year, look pretty good so far for the New York Mets as pitchers and catchers are almost set to report to 2015 Spring Training. And finally, let's take a moment to think about what the television show Friends would look like if it were set in 2015 .Ok, well, I think we're all set here, so I'm gonna catch up on a few other things before I try not to fall asleep with my tablet on my chest like I did last night. Peace, hear the drummer get wicked, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! Yeeeeeeeaaaaaahhh, boyyyyyyyy. |
 "I was born to _________...(You can't say 'write' or refer to any genre or literary discipline, or describe any form of writing.)"What's up people? Don't sleep on this entry, because I have some things I'd like to get off my chest today. What was I born to do? Since I can't discuss certain terms or thought processes, I think I'll make this as simple as I possibly can. I was put here to occasionally entertain people and make them think. I know I'm not always the best at either of those, and I don't often try to be. And that's ok...not every day can be pancakes covered in whipped cream for breakfast kinds of days. What I've got though is a nice little following, full of people who more often than not understand where I'm comin' from, even when it's not obvious. I'm beyond thankful for that, because we all want to have a voice, and this isn't as easy as it looks...if you say, "Well, anyone could write a blog and be good at it!" and you yourself aren't doing that, then your statement has no merit. Amirite? You better believe I am. And I get that sometimes I'm not funny, and other times I'm rather nonsensical, but that's par for the course when you've got over a thousand blog entries under your belt. When choosing to do this under WDC's genre guidelines, I could only pick three out of however many there are, so I went with "personal", "biographical", and "comedy" because they seemed to be the most fitting and appropriate for whatever it is I end up spewing out when the time comes for me to sit down and hash out my thoughts. It wasn't a guessing game, and I've been fortunate enough in past years to have been nominated for Quill Awards in both the "Best Comedy" and "Best Blog" categories (which by the way, if you haven't voted yet for the awards that are open to public voting, you should do so here by visiting "Note: *Quill* Reminder: Come vote in the 2014 Quil..."...I'll be doing so this evening). I've always been intrigued by the idea of "making people think"...more often than not, you could probably lock a bunch of us in a room with one prompt, and get roughly the same response, but that bores me. I've never understood myself to be conventional in most senses, which is why sometimes you'll catch me twisting a prompt around to suit me in ways that hopefully differentiate myself from anything else you might come across. What I say isn't always popular, and you might disagree with me, but debate is healthy sometimes...especially when the proper answer in some people's eyes isn't always the right answer. We all come from different places and backgrounds, and it's refreshing not to hear the same ol' same ol' twenty different ways. I was born to be different. I was given an opportunity in life to stand alone, and I've taken it. It might not be very comfortable at times- for you or me- but I've grown up and into this role with some purpose. I'm not here to be your prom date or your savior. I'm not "the generational voice". I'm just one guy who likes to express himself, and I take a lot of pride in that (even if I don't often say so or it doesn't seem like it). I'm here for reasons you might not understand, but the important thing is that I'm here. And you can't front on that.  "Let's talk...(yeah I know one of my favorite expressions). Tell me about a time when either you needed help or you helped someone else. Everyone needs help some time. If you want you can use this to write about a small act of kindness or a large act of kindness."Fitting, as today I believe is "Random Acts Of Kindness" day. In Buffalo (as I'm sure it's true all over our big great planet) it's often customary for patrons of the Tim Hortons drive-thru to pay for the order of the person behind you. I don't think a week has gone by where someone on my Facebook news feed hasn't been blessed with their morning coffee being paid for by a complete stranger. Buffalo truly is "The City Of Good Neighbors". And here on WDC we take care of our own as well. Personally I've benefitted from groups like "RAOK Upgrade Brigade Group" in the past, and I've always tried to do right by them. I've helped raise funds for them also (you're welcome for the hockey emoticons), because it's important that we look out for each other. I don't get involved with much, because you can't always trust what you're getting into or backing, but from my experience alone RAOK is without a doubt one of the most worthwhile organizations within WDC. And usually when I do contribute to something, it's often anonymously because I believe supporting others is a selfless act and I don't need the recognition for doing something good from the heart. But I'm completely overwhelmed by the outpouring of support so far for this month's "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" that, as its owner now, I've decided to make a donation to RAOK of 200,000 gift points in our name. We've been successful, and I want to share that with others. This will go toward providing someone else a two-month upgraded membership, and maybe it keeps around someone who's on the fence, or it gives someone a hand who really needs it. Everyone involved with the 30DBC has made this possible...you're a great bunch of caring people, and I'm proud to be associated with all of you. And I'd like to ask all of you WDC members who are reading this to please consider donating to this excellent group as well...no gift is too small, but the difference you could be making is immeasurable. "What do you think about thinking itself, in general? Do humans think all the time?"Great topic. I'm a known thinker, to a fault. I tend to overanalyze simple situations, while also neglecting common sense. I like to load up on information, which occasionally bites me in the ass. I don't like to talk without knowing all sides to every story, even if sometimes that story has played out in my head a million different ways without actually seeing the forest for the trees And sure, human beings exist without thinking. That's why there's a "People Of Walmart" website. There are folks out there with less of a clue than you or I. Takes all types to make this world go 'round.My problem is I'm always thinking of something...from grand schemes to banal thoughts. I have a really hard time shutting off my brain. It's frustrating sometimes. I've been through plenty of sleepless nights dealing with it...or self-medicating it enough to try and quit thoughts from racing fast enough that I'd actually get heart palpitations and my breathing would increase. Try laying in bed, praying for sleep, and all you can do is think that you sound like you just ran wind sprints. Best of luck .I've totally overcomplicated my life at times because of thinking...whether by doing it too much or not enough. I should wear a bumper sticker on my jeans that says, "Ask me how this thinking thing has worked out for me!" But don't ask me, because I'll probably just get annoyed and that's a bad look. We're human, and we think (on some level, at least), which I hope sets us apart from the most basic forms of organisms. Yet mold continues to plague us, cockroaches still exist, and some people blatantly insist on wearing ill-fitting clothing even when they have the means to do better. All the thinking in the world has yet to see us evolve into a superior species, and the only proof you need resides in any debate over politics you've ever seen. ** Image ID #1970900 Unavailable ** Alright, I'll admit that now so far in to "The Soundtrack of Your Life" it's getting harder to match bands up with entire entries, or at least parts of them. But that's what I signed up for.This song is a fuckin' anthem. To all those kids who were too smart to stick around in class, to all those who hated being pigeon-holed as something they weren't ready to be or weren't comfortable with what others wanted them to be, to people believing that you're something you're not. This is for those of us who woke up on detox hospital ward floors with someone pissin' inches from your head. The unreal expectations you're almost forced to try to live up to because you have no other choice. And this is the proof that labels on people only go so far; we can still somehow exceed them. "'You're headed for self-destruction' ; been there, did that, Kicked back with the wrong angel to fuck with." Lyrics.  Let's all raise our hands in understanding that Michael Jordan is the greatest basketball player of all-time. I would ball from sun-up to sun-down on local courts trying to do what he did on the game's biggest stage...it was an honor to wear his shoes and watch him perform astounding feats that we could only dare to achieve at the playground. In honor of his birthday, let's enjoy his 10 greatest NBA Finals moments . Yes, I enjoy Tumblr...and you would too if you're interested in the care and feeding of writers . I don't care who you are...if you think this guy photoshopping himself into random stock photos (that you'd see in picture frames you'd buy, among other places) isn't hilarious, you're probably dead to me and all your friends. You're probably sick of me lathering Jimmy Fallon's nuts, but you cannot deny that he has changed the face of what late-night television should look like . And finally, it goes beyond saying that I'm shocked that Julie D - PUBLISHED! has been eliminated from this month's "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" fundraiser activity. Julie and I go way back...we came up in the same blogging class that existed before blogging groups on WDC; a group that consisted of some legends like Gaby ~ Keeper Of The Realm  , KÃ¥re Enga in Udon Thani  , In Your Dirtiest Pants , and others who are no longer present on WDC. We've maintained an online friendship that transcended this great home of writers, and for her to come out of blogging abstinence to support my endeavor is something I'll forever be grateful for. But to see her get bounced so soon...what were the judges thinking? She's pretty much 30DBC royalty, having won its very first round. All I can think of, because there was no explanation given, is that it was a make-up call. In hockey parlance (for those who are unfamiliar with the term), a "make-up call" is when the ref calls a questionable penalty on one team, but tries to make up for it by whistling the other team for an even less egregious act. Not taking anything away from my good friend Lyn's a sly fox , who shouldn't have been eliminated either, but this freakin' hurts. You go to bat for your thing to someone, they embrace it with open arms after so long, and they get shit on without so much as a thank you? That stings. I'm beyond grateful for Julie getting back in the ring with us, and she certainly has the chops to hang with the best of anyone in this blogging game, but damn. C'mon man! Let's let the best compete against the best! I hope Julie sticks around and still kicks in an entry now and then, but I wouldn't blame her for being a little upset or frustrated at whatever kind of gamesmanship is being played out here. Re: "Re: One More Elimination - One More Prompt" , yes, we love you, and I think you've made some new admirers along the way. Thank you.Ok you guys...I'm feeling almost emotionally spent. Not as bad as the last time I felt exhausted from writing out an entry, but I'm so glad it's over. Plus, I have to poop. So with that I must say peace, proud to know ya, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| "I saw a local newspaper ad today for a shop named The Broom Closet; it's described as a witchcraft supply store. I've never heard of such a shop before, and I'm intrigued. Would you go visit such a shop? Why or why not? Bonus Question: Do you know of, or have an idea for, a unique or trendy shop? Good afternoon friends! I'm glad Brother Nature gave us a prompt like this today, because I used a similar one last month (only the bonus part though) in the official "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" and never got a chance to write about it.First off though, no, I wouldn't go on my own volition to a place like The Broom Closet. I'll be straight with you about that. Personally, I'd have no need to. I'm not into that kinda stuff. I certainly understand that others are though, and I respect that, but it's not my thing. Would I go because someone else wanted to? Probably, but here's where I evoke the selfish part of me and will very likely openly wonder what'd be in it for me. You don't just take me to a place I'd otherwise have no interest in visiting without getting me a t-shirt or some tacos afterward for being a good sport. In other words, bribe me. I'm down for almost anything if the circumstances are correct. As for ideas about a trendy little shop, even though I've had all night and most of this morning to ponder the thought, I still feel like I'm being put on the spot because I don't have a snappy answer. And the merchant soul within me has oftentimes come up with off-the-cuff fantastical ideas for little niche places before, but the recollection of those memories is failing me right now. I could open a snazzy joint that sells hugs, but I think there's already places in Japan that offer those services, and the creepish factor exceeds my will to invest fictional capital in such a venture. I make pretty good sandwiches- no, I mean really good...crazy good- but there are delis all over the place that do that, and why pay for something so simple that you can do yourself? While I don't doubt I'd be good at it and turn a profit, I'm not feelin' it for the sake of this exercise. You guys remember the old Peanuts cartoon strip with Charlie Brown? Sometimes Lucy would set up a little booth, and it would say "Psychiatric Help 5 Cents"? I'd like to do something like that (but charge a little more)...like a "dose of reality" booth. You sit down, tell me your dilemma, and I tell you what's really goin' on. Maybe I'll offer you up some cotton candy or popcorn to ease your pain of hearing what you might not want to hear but need to, and I'll stash a sock fulla nickels under my counter for those who seriously need to GTFOH with their stupidity. Thank you, and please come again. Boy/girl troubles? Debt got you down? Rash flarin' up? Kids trompin' on your lawn? No worries...I'll solve all your problems for a nominal fee, your money back guaranteed if you ain't satisfied. And if your problem is with me and my diagnosis, I'll refer you to my GTFOH policy.  If I can't help you, then you can't see the root of your problems, and therefore no one can. The line forms to my right (your left). I'm standing by, so ACT NOW!  "'Out of difficulties grow miracles.' -Jean de la Bruyere. Do you agree with this statement? If so why? If not why not?"Of course I agree with this...to an extent (because there's a "but"...there's always a "but"). Life's a series of mountains we climb; some are bigger than others, and the rewards are often no bigger than "Congrats on scaling that mountain...now here's another one!" and miracles...well, let's just say they're not handouts and shit. We put this mythical aura around the word "miracle" like it's the second coming of Christ, or getting two bags of chips to fall from a vending machine when you've only paid for one. Some of us work mighty damn hard for no extra benefit, and others just luck into great tidings solely for being in the right place at the right time. Miracles are kinda ridiculous like that. It's safe to say that difficulties outnumber miracles; if it were a one-for-one proposition we'd all be drunk off our riches just from getting out of bed. "It's a miracle I made it to work this morning in this weather!" "It's a miracle I survived that rush of angry customers!" "It's a miracle that Rachel finally ended up with Ross!" Our moral compass in regards to miracles is absolutely flawed, because we're so big-picture oriented that we often tend to overlook the struggles others have had to get to where they are. We look at our own situations in comparison to others and wonder why...why them? Why not me? Haven't I paid my dues? Didn't I go through enough? If you're in that place, you're not making progress up the next mountain. Everything's unbelievable until you actually believe you're going through it, and what happens next might be even more unbelievable, but I guess you have to keep pushing and hoping and seeing that each step along the way is a tiny miracle in the grand scheme. I'm personally stuck...I don't know what my next miracle is gonna be. I haven't reached the point of setting another goal yet, and my body's spent from trying so damn hard and not fully enjoying each little miracle along the way for what it was. My cycle's always been "working hard equals more work, so work harder, but this time also work smarter" and so on, with each little bit of progress slammed by more struggle. If this were a video game there'd be no payoff; no villain to defeat for the princess at the end, no land to conquer...just more pipes to go down and more blocks to bash with my head for a few extra coins. And maybe that's the miracle at this point...being able to still keep goin' on through all the madness life and karma and everything else spits at you. I might be down, but I'm not out. The miracle is the struggle continuing...so what's next?  "What makes a writer a writer in your view? And accordingly, do you agree with this quote by Junot Diaz? 'You see, in my view a writer is a writer not because she writes well and easily, because she has amazing talent, because everything she does is golden. In my view a writer is a writer because even when there is no hope, even when nothing you do shows any sign of promise, you keep writing anyway.'"Amen. There's no sense in writing for a pot of gold...you write because you have to. For all it takes. Because you've got something inside of you that has to be released. Whether it's for a few people, or minions of corporate-backed bestseller pushers, or for your own godforsaken merits. Whatever you gotta do. I see this in myself and my own personal well-being. If I don't stay active; if I resist the urge to get something across, I plummet. And that can snowball into depressive symptoms. It's no secret to myself, and I feel a li'l naked now sharing this out loud, but it is what it is. I write to get through myself, my struggles, my pain and my tendencies. Without this, there's no me. This is what makes me happy and it's what I feel now that I do best in life...to see that some enjoy and appreciate it is a bonus I'm blessed with and grateful for. It's not because I think I'm talented or have something to prove...it's a better form of therapy. Some writers have a gift for telling stories and drawing people in. Some can use detail, or humor, or real-life anecdotes. Some just need to start typing and let the words take over...that's how I'd classify me. I write. Because I have to. Because I need to. It's stronger than wanting. If I put as much effort into life itself as I did into documenting my life, I'd be the greatest living human being ever. And I still might be, but that's not for me to say.  I delayed starting this entry because I couldn't think of an appropriate tie-in song for "The Soundtrack of Your Life" . I had a couple in mind, but they didn't really fit. And then words take over, preconceived notions start to sound foolish, and something else luckily pops up in my head and here we are.Sometimes life is like that...you're not sure of anything, and then boom along comes your next greatest thought, and suddenly everything feels right and makes sense...at least for the time being. That's how it seems life's always been...not knowing until I'm there, and once I'm there, I'm set for a good long while. If you're along for the ride, you've got a pretty good seat. "I'm on a rollercoaster but I'm on my feet... when I find my peace of mind, I'm gonna keep it for the end of time." Lyrics.  I missed the big Saturday Night Live special 40th anniversary show, and I'm hoping it hits Hulu sooner rather than later because from what I'm gathering via Facebook, it was pretty epic. People always get Debbie Downer on it and say shit like "it used to be funnier" every year, but they don't understand that comedy evolves, the cast and show itself evolves, and they're just dicks who like to complain about everything not being the same as it used to be. Fucking chill. Funny doesn't always need to suit specific tastes, and it shouldn't have to pander to what was acceptedly funny ten or twenty years ago. Wow...that's one hell of a lead-in for this list of the 40 best SNL characters of all time . This link is geared more toward female writers, featuring apps they should use, but can't we all benefit (at least a little) from apps that further the creative process in general, minus the his/her designations? Can I get an amen about this weather being ridiculous? I mean it...this shit is actually cramping me harsh-like. I had to go to the store this morning for a script that may or may not have been filled (thank you, all shit being useless on Presidents Day) in -1 degree temps according the electronic bank sign I passed. Lost my footing in the icy conditions at the stoop in front of my building, and now I'm feeling it all over. I didn't cartoonishly fall, thankfully, but it was enough to somehow tweak both my ankles (including the surgically repaired one), the wrist on the hand I used to stabilize myself, and awkwardly, my right quad muscle (which now reminds me every damn time I try to walk that it's been fucked with because of this weather). And y'all know I don't normally complain about this inevitable shit, but I lost my composure in front of people, so you know this nonsense is serious.  Finally, let's all just laugh a little at the genius of the cultural institution that is The Simpsons, and how their slightly-hidden humor is at times smarter and funnier than both you and I combined.Ok, well...I think I've done said enough for one day. Challenging prompts tend to drain me emotionally, and maybe I need a nap now. Peace, well all the love from me, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
 "Tell me why you should stay in this competition."Because. What up playas? It's another Sunday, and depending on your perspective it's either the end of one week or the beginning of another. I haven't quite decided which position on the the spectrum I'd like to play to yet. So my man Brother Nature wants to know why I should remain in this month's unofficial round of the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" , which is also an elimination-style fundraising event of chaotic, nearly indecent proportions- no wait, maybe I have that confused with "Invalid Item" . And someone's gettin' shown the door after today. That means there's a chance that of all the entrants' entries in this round, theirs might be the last I read of them this month. Which makes me kinda sound like a jerk who doesn't care about others, which couldn't be further from the truth, but I read a lot of entries on the daily as it is and I tend to forget things sometimes, especially when I consume a lot of information, which makes me question my own sanity and blame Obama.Where was I? Oh right...this elimination thing. You (the prestigious board of associates of Joel and Andre) should keep me around because this is my forum, I'll do what I damn well please, and if you don't keep me in this contest I'll pull a control freak move and yank down everything I've got on WDC because I didn't get my way I'm loveable, charming, handsome in the right (or lack of) light, and overall a nice person to have at your disposal. I'm also witty, cunning, resourceful, and I'm no stranger to monkey heists (see last February's Blog Mob behavior if you need proof). Plus, I'll cut you entertain, inform, and perhaps even occasionally astound you with feats of verbal Olympic-level skills. Nobody else in this competition can boast of out-promising me! But seriously, I come with a pedigree unmatched by almost everyone else. And there's gotta be at least one or two people (although I'm not keepin' score; jus' sayin') who have hardly contributed anything in writing this month, right? So in theory, those people should be easiest to cut free...let's move on with those who have proven they want to be here the most.  *lights his torch*And I don't care who stays or who goes to be honest, as long as I'm still around. I won't take it personally. I'll act normal outside of this, like we're still friends . No worries. But if you're really desperate to eliminate someone after reading this, I graciously volunteer...Elle - on hiatus . Why would I just up and volunteer myself, and why wouldn't I volunteer the leader of the other team? Today marks the 30th anniversary of a seminal teenage movie, The Breakfast Club. That would make me nine years old when it came out...old enough to be aware of its existende, but young enough that some of it went over my head. And I'll admit, I never really sat down and watched the whole thing from start to finish until about two years ago. I'd seen bits and pieces, I knew who was in it (I'll always love you, Molly Ringwald), and I understood the gist of the story even though I didn't really identify with any of the main characters. But what I can cop to is the song that runs in the background of the closing scene and through the beginning of the credits...Simple Minds' "Don't You (Forget About Me)". This might be the most mainstream song in my part of the Soundtrackers' playlist , but I think there's a universal aspect present in that we don't ever want to be forgotten. We want to know years down the road that we made some kind of difference in as many peoples' lives as possible, whether by being a friend or a lover or an example of some kind. If we can't be present, we can still be a memory. I still have lots of thoughts and memories (both good and bad) of many people I haven't seen or talked to in years. Sure, social media has managed to connect so many of us now in ways we could only imagine 30 years ago, but what we're up to presently isn't any bit more important than what we started building in the past, even if the cast of characters around us has changed and some didn't manage to see things through toward the completion of where we're at today. I love that I can hear this song and be taken back to not only the time in my life when this was the number one song in the country, but also to when I was a teenager in detention instead of sitting at home doing homework, or busting my ass in wrestling practice, or hangin' out at the mall, or writing poetry, or taking part in standard teenage deviant behavior. That was all a part of my life as much as this song is. I know it sounds corny, but it's true.  Like I said, today is the 30th anniversary of The Breakfast Club's release ...and even though I finally got around to watching it fully just two years ayo, I at least had the frame of reference of having lived through that time period. I can barely imagine what it must be like being a millennial and watching it for the first time . And Spoiler Alert for those of you who 1) have never seen it; or 2) have never been in detention or in-school suspension before: yes, a situation like that can unite various individuals from different groups and cliques. No Valentine's Day wrap-up would be complete without knowing that some people really did have it worse than you on February 14th. Well, we did it...we've made it halfway through another month. Carry on now with the rest of your activities. Peace, it's my feeling we'll win in the end, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| "Young love." Good evening friends, lovers, and everyone in between! Welcome to Valentine's Day, or, if you're reading this, just another Saturday night. Lots to get to, and I've been putting it off all day because I'm lazy, for lack of a better term. Hey, at least I'm honest. Young love...we've all been there, right? We all have our stories, our heartbreaks, our "love conquers all, at least until we've hit some form of maturity" narratives. And I'm pretty sure most of us let the one get away. And wouldn't you know...you've already said something like "for better or for worse" before you even considered planning an actual real-life wedding. Bet you haven't thought of your "young love" story in those terms. Or maybe you did...in that case, let's both move on. I've been in love before...many times, actually. And on several occasions it's been reciprocated, which is always nice. But young love man...young love isn't what it's cracked up to be. There's nothing to love about young love (except maybe the very beginning, like, the first ten minutes or so...c'mon y'all, I'm not totally heartless damaged goods now), because it always ends in pain. And because you're young, you don't know what that feeling is or how to respond to it. You forget that "forever" is a really long time, and suddenly this thing called "love" that you thought was gonna last forever turns into an inconsolable mess of unwantedness and sorrow doomed to last equally as long as "forever". Forever. That's a strong word. People like to throw it around like it has an expiration date so they can just get a new one, or like they'll get a nickel back for it once they empty it and return it to the store. Forever until forever is no more. Forever until I change my mind, or someone better comes along. Forever until next week, or next month, or when the kids go away to college. Forever, because we're still young and volatile and beautiful and indestructible. Forever because we know no better. Forever because we won't know what's worse. Forever because the tank's full and we've got everywhere to go. Forever until we get there. Forever and the next time. Forever, goodbye. That's a lot of forevers...it feels like that last paragraph should be in a greeting card you give to someone who's called off the dating game altogether, like "Fuck this, I'm just gonna sit on my couch and watch Netflix with my six cats and eat ice cream straight out the carton for the next 45 years." All unstoppable-like about stopping love and romance completely unless it comes delivered in the form of a pizza. Maybe it should be a poem about how young love can ruin the idea of old love, in the same manner that Barbie ruined the idea of "the perfect body image" in some girls. Maybe I should sneak in to a women's bathroom in a sleazy bar and Sharpie those sentiments on the wall, perhaps to inspire a 20-something to ditch the scumbag her head's telling her to marry but her heart's not so sure. Maybe. The road to forever is lined with maybe rocks and hopefully sands and what-if trees...and if you're lucky you'll be stung by a maybe bee that'll keep you believin' that forever is a thing and not just another dream. And suddenly you're not young anymore. The image of you in your head at 23 doesn't match the same one in the mirror at 39. Babies are grown; you know women your age who are grandmothers now and you're not even ready for a child of your own, let alone begin to watch his or her heart break for the very first time without even knowing if it's really love. There's no one to tell that it's not, because you weren't able to learn that for almost too long. Boys and girls don't break hearts. Love breaks hearts. Love knows when to stay and when to leave, and love doesn't have to say goodbye. Love doesn't care if you're with someone else or if you're determined to be forever alone. Love makes the rules, and love makes the decisions for you. There is no love in hope, but there always seems to be hope in love...and whether it's wrong or it's right, whether it's good or bad, whether it stays or flees, old or young, love always wins.  "Happy Valentines Day!  Agree or disagree ? It's easier for a woman to read a man's mind than it is for a man to read a woman's mind."C'mon now! Normally I'd say I'm not gonna allow myself to get pulled into a trap question like that! Why? Simple: statistically, most of my readers are strong, well-educated women who will, for the most part, claim that they can read minds. Until you ask then what they'd like for dinner, and they say, "I don't know...what do you want?" and you say you don't know, so they get all huffy like "Well, I'm not a mind reader, so you better pick somethin' 'cuz I'm hungry!" and you think maybe it might be time to start living in the garage or something, because that woman just went from zero to batshit hangry in 1.85 seconds...a new world record. So here we go with the analogies again...guys are simple; girls are complex. Guys are like dogs, who are always glad to see you and wanna roll around in the grass and play and eat food off the floor as long as it's still edible; girls are like cats, who will demand attention and affection but on their terms, otherwise leave 'em the hell alone and don't get their hair wet or they'll scratch the everlovin' outta ya just because. I know...not all women are like that, and no, I won't eat food off the floor. It's a generalization with little valuable merit, but just enough to have made its way into my consciousness to have earned blog space. Therefore, it's now part of public domain and available to be discussed. Or dismissed. I'm simple most of the time. That means it's probably easy to read my mind, and even easier once I start making expressions. I'd probably be a terrible poker player because when I get excitable, I get excitable. And I'm usually blunt and straightforward enough to tell you what I want anyway, which eliminates the need to be a mind reader. I'm, like, perfect like that, so I don't really care who the better mind reader is; it's not a competition as long as we all get to eat whatever we decide upon for dinner in a timely fashion. And I don't have to do dishes...I hate doing dishes. It's not that I'm anti-lovey-dovey, or have something against relationships and love and happy couples and shit. I don't. It's ok to not want to feel anything on Valentine's Day. I'm not gonna fake joy so others don't have to think they should be miserable by seeing me miserable...live and let live, ya know? At this point in life, I'm not interested in the idea of a relationship. I've been in enough of them to know that I never wind up being happy. It's not you, it's me. I need my space. Lots of it. Whenever it needs me. I'm better off alone, because we'll both end up heartbroken. That's how these things work for me. I've tried almost everything, and it's become borderline hopeless. But I'm ok with that, because maybe that's who I'm supposed to have been all along. The timeline of relationships would be reduced to moments of eye contact rather than the standard months of courting and flirting and drunkenly making out while realizing it's "meant to be" until it's not; a glance and a smile and it's done and over with...minimal reward for minimal risk. No messy breakup, no awkward returning of personal effects, no explanations or cover-ups or accusations. You can close your eyes and feel that it's ended and be ok. And you can do it over and over again without pain. Is that too much to ask for? Is that asking too much of myself to get used to? Am I crazy because I don't want to put in the effort if the end result is always the same? Am I wrong to believe more in the idea that I don't need love; that love needs me more than I need it? Love can be the faceless woman at the bar in the crowd, dancing near you to a nineties cover band. The way the music plays allows you to dance and sway, and she moves in closer, directly in front of you with barely any room between you and her. This continues for several minutes. You try to talk but the band drowns you out...soon you're just rhythm; two people all alone in a crowd. Without notice, she turns around and starts kissing you. You don't know her name or what she looks like, but the only connection you have is the music. This kiss feels like forever. You don't want to stop, but the jarring silence of the band's set being finished combined with the house lights kicking on is enough to snap you out of what feels like the best dream ever. The next thing you know, you're ridin' shotgun in your buddy's car on the way home, and he's quizzin' you about the girl. Barely able to believe what just happened yourself, you play it off like it was no big deal. But for a few moments, it was. Today's song is "Lover I Don't Have To Love" by Bright Eyes.  I'm putting this here just in case I start seeing women I'm not sure if I'm becoming romantically involved with on a semi-regular basis and need an appropriate Valentine's Day card to properly express how confused I am about the relationship. And I'm putting this here because it's ok to be single, and because we choose not to have anyone to answer to, that doesn't just mean you can ask us ridiculous and/or condescending questions . But if you are in love, please enjoy this list of NPR's love songs everyone should love . It's a pretty contemporary list, with something for all tastes. And finally, there are candy conversation hearts for those of you who've decided to remain in long-term, committed relationships. Bless your souls.Alright you people, that's it for this year's Valentine's extravaganza. I promise you, I'm not nearly as miserable or lonely as this entry might sound. And if you're still reading this, congratulations...may your life be not as devoid of romance this time next year as it currently is. Peace, you said it feels good, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
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