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A third attempt at this blogging business. |
30-DAY BLOG CHALLENGE WINNER FOR SEPTEMBER 2011 AND APRIL 2012!! BLOGGING CIRCLE OF FRIENDS "BLOGGER OF THE WEEK" MAY, SEPTEMBER, AND NOVEMBER 2013 JANUARY, FEBRUARY, AND JUNE 2014 After 380 entries and over 17,600 views, it was time to retire "Who Do I Think I Am??" ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
Thanks for stopping by and showing your support! ![]() ![]() ![]() THIS BLOG IS NOW CLOSED.
Continue along on my journey over at "Still Figurin' Out Who I Think I Am" ![]() |
30DBC PROMPT: "If you could travel either 113 years into the past OR into the future, which would you choose? (You are ONLY an observer, and cannot influence anything.)" What's up folks? What to do here...what to do? I love that for any other intents or purposes, 113 would seem like an awfully strange number to go zippin' back or forth in time to, but because 13 isn't enough either way, let's add a hundred to it and because it's WDC's 13th birthday week, but 113 is more outrageous. Truthfully, I'd just as soon jettison this prompt into either one just to say I've got this entry in the bag during the year of 2013. But I'll do the right thing and play along. Either way, you're gonna be screwed. If you go back in time, you're not gonna have all of the technology and other creature comforts we've grown accustomed to. If you go forward into history, you're not gonna know what all these newfangled inventions do. Personally, I'd rather see you dropping off my old self from 1900, along with my 2116 version, just to see how we'd all get along (assuming, of course, there's still a world left in 2116 that hasn't been laid to waste by pollution and/or politicians). Would we duke it out battle-royal style? Would we double-cross each other until we all stopped talking to one another? Or would a pretty girl catch our eye, forcing us to try and one-up ourselves for her attention? Here's how it'd really do down (my story, so my rules)...these fools are guests in my life and times. They're the ones out of place, not me, so I/them/we better learn to put up and shut up if they're gonna get anywhere with any kind of help from me. But I/them/we already knew that. Probably 'cuz we're kinda smart like that. So after 2013 me lays down the ground rules, we'd probably all get along just well enough to not wanna kill each other, but we won't be attending the others' weddings anytime soon. No matter what century I'm in, apparently none of us is the marryin' type. ![]() BCF PROMPT: "Describe a favorite photograph you've taken or one some else has taken that you really enjoy. Please, share with us so we can enjoy it with you!" Ironically, the day after I went on the record (again) as stating that WDC should change their photo uploading limits to allow for higher-resolution images to be shared (which would make the process for including pictures much easier if we don't have to edit them first to have them fall under WDC's strict 400x400, 100kb max guidelines), we're asked to describe and a picture we enjoy. I'll let the emoticons do the talking for me: ![]() The problem is that I don't own a copy of the picture I most enjoy of myself. The beautiful thing is that it was actually taken around thirteen years ago...but it was taken on a 35mm disposable camera. If you're all like, "Wow, people still used film in the year 2000?", now might be a good time to remind you that I was the lab manager in a drug store's photo department as recently as 2011...and we were still processing anywhere from 15-30 rolls of 35mm film on a given day. I wasn't even part of the intended picture. I believe it was a coworker's high school graduation party, and she was hugging another coworker that I was pretty good friends with. They were standing in their embrace a good few feet in front of me as I was talking to other people. I must've heard the person taking the picture saying that word...the word you say when you want people to smile but then they're disappointed immediately after because, unbelievable, there is usually no cheese to be had. A scam if I ever heard one. ![]() It was around sunset, which was not only captured beautifully in the sunset but also on my face, as I still had my prescription sunglasses on. And for some reason I'm sort of crouched down, doing the traditional Rock N' Roll devil horns (emoticon that, please?) with my hand and my tongue is sticking out about as far as it could go. And because of the flash and my prescription lenses being dark but not that dark, I've got the eeriest red-eye going on in the picture. I looked like some sort of cross between a midget ninja and a garden gnome. At least that's what the girl hosting the party said later. Somehow I never got a copy of that picture, although I did ask for one. And I would totally share it right now if I did own one, but the original is probably tucked away in an album or shoebox or whatever people with pictures that were actually printed out did with them back in the day. Mine just stayed in the envelope for the most part. Now if need to use film, I just have 'em burned onto a cd (usually, now it's just burning whatever's on a memory card to cd instead, so I can clear it off buying a brand new memorty card because the rest got full and I was lazy). And all that really means is the envelopes are a little lighter, because the cd's are still in the envelopes they were ordered in. Haven't looked at the images on the discs in years. And if I haven't now, chances are slim that I probably ever will. MUSICAL BREAK!! ![]() ![]() Fun Fact! The producer of the album this song is on was allegedly so ugly he was nicknamed Mutt, eventually married and divorced Shania Twain. THE DAILY BOX SCORE: ![]() ![]() ![]() You'd think it'd just be obvious that people on Twitter would be following Twitter, but I suppose it's nice to know that Twitter doesn't just force out Tweets about themselves unsolicited (unless, of course, you're already following them, like 36 of the people, bands and places I follow are). And if you're wondering, ShareThis is the company that actually tweets out your WDC blog entry when you want to share it. If you're already using Twitter, try it...a new tab opens, and with your entry's title, mini-URL and "Writing.com via Share This" are in the entry field (all of which are editable as well). And that's one to grow on... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e9J0PYZcWsU. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() And all of the sudden I've managed to go from "keepin' this one short" to "dammit, I can't believe it's this long again"...which is probably my cue to wrap this thing up for tonight (and stop that damn Facebook notification chime from going off again). Peace, I wanna touch you, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
30DBC PROMPT: "The prompt is a two-parter today ![]() Hello, dear readers. I hope this entry finds you all well. This talk of birthdays around here on WDC is making me crave something I haven't allowed myself to have in quite a long time...cake. Chocolate cake, to be more specific. I think I might just grab some if I can make it up to the grocery store tomorrow. And don't get me started on how aggravated I was today when I attempted to leave the house to get food. ![]() First, let's get the prompts out of the way. I'm still going through all of the birthday extravaganza awesomeness...I don't want to miss anything because I'm sure by some point next week I'll be bored with all the internet has to offer, and I'll be looking for something new to check out, and all the WDC birthday-related content will be no more. I'll have all these cool new toys to play with, and no instructions to go along with them. Hell, there's already one feature that came out at some point before this past week, and since I've deleted the email about it, I'm kinda lost. There's a new "drag and drop" feature that lets you imbed photos right into your text...and when I click on the little icon for it, it tells me I need to be upgraded to a Premium WDC membership package to take advantage of this. Damn. I don't wanna be Premium right now! I'm comfortable with my regular package and upgrade. But I do like the idea of not having to waste portfolio real estate on pictures and images. Something's gonna have to give here, and soon. What would I like to see in the future? I've railed about this before, but I'd love to see the size limits on pictures we can upload to WDC changed. 400x400 isn't very big these days, especially now that cameras on smartphones take exceptionally good pictures. I know I can't be the only one who feels this way. It absolutely sucks having to edit, crop, resize and manipulate pics to have them stored for use in blog entries and other kinds of writing. I get it that WDC isn't Facebook and a one-touch photo sharing feature will never exist here, but throw us a little bigger bone, man! Technology has evolved...and it's time WDC improved its guidelines for pictures. Maybe after the first year of wearing teenager pants. One can hope. BCF PROMPT: "Dentists. What are your thoughts on them?" Duplicate prompts in the BCF, leading to dueling entries! Chicanery! I call shenanigans! Actually, I really didn't mind. I'm kinda glad I didn't look to see last night that there wasn't a prompt for awhile today. And I'm not sure what to make of either of them. So no offense to the two lovely ladies I consider to be my first kisses (which was what the original prompt was about...and I say two because everyone's got their "peck on the lips" kiss, and then there's the real "first kiss" that goes on and on and never feels like it's gonna end, and the insides of mouths are checkin' out the insides of other mouths, and hey, did it just get hotter in here all the sudden?), but I'm gonna opt for discussing the other option. Here's a little secret about me. I have bad teeth. I couldn't tell you when the last time I actually saw a dentist and had work done was. There was a time about ten years or so ago that I supposedly had dental insurance through an employer, but no matter where I went they weren't accepting it. I even had one dentist put the bib on me, looked around the inside of my mouth for about ten seconds, and then tell me my insurance wasn't gonna cover the work I'd need, and he wasn't even sure how many trips back I'd have to make. And this guy was s'posta be one of the best dentists in our area (at least he was if you listened to how some family members spoke of him). At that point I'd given up...I'd had enough of driving around to see these people, the receptionists couldn't tell me if my insurance was actually worth anything, and the majority of the providers in the book the insurance company sent out weren't taking new patients anyways. And since I could chew just fine, my teeth didn't look broken, and I wasn't in any pain, then there was no point in playing the game with these people. I brush regularly and have been using a whitening mouthwash for quite some time. What's gonna go wrong? Well, I also have a healthy dislike of people doing business inside my mouth that I'm uncomfortable with, and even basic dentist routine jobs are very unsettling to me. The sounds and sensations are absolutely repulsive. Sure, these people are supposed to be trained professionals, and likely know what they're doing because so many people place a trust in them that you wouldn't put in just anyone...nobody walks down the street and asks the first person they come across, "Hey, would you shove this sharp pokey-thingey in my mouth, and take $600 for your troubles?" That's legit. I need to find me some kinda gig like that. I should probably look into dentists in this area though, because I've got different medical coverage since I've moved out here, and I'm having some problems with my back teeth. Problems like they're gone kind of problems. I think because I've never had some of the issues with my wisdom teeth that others have, I've been rewarded with crappy molars. But this is just a wild guess...if I knew anything about the science of dentistry I'd just fix 'em myself and save a ton of money. And I'd fix your busted chicklets too, saving you some scratch by charging less than these so-called "dentist" types get. They've probably colluded and formed some magical contract with a real-life tooth fairy that pays them crazy amounts of rewards and shit for teeth they turn in. Wouldn't surprise me. If you're a dentist and I've offended you, well, you probably make too much money to care that I'm not in the frame of mind about your profession to consider apologizing. But I think I've just bought at least another ten years of justifying to myself the reasons I won't be seeing any one of you. Although I've heard some places now offer some kind of dentistry service where they knock you out first and then do whatever work you need, which might be the way for me to go. Although I'm not sure how it'd work...they just give you pill and you're asleep short-term? While I see the benefits of this, I also know how my luck runs...I'd probably wake up in the middle of gettin' drilled or somethin', or come to after and discover I've been pickpocketed. Or rather than in a dentist's chair, I'd wake up from being passed out in the waiting room, probably in a compromising position, amid a stack of Highlights For Children magazines. Oh, you dentists and the ways you're gettin' over on people. Well played. Well played. MUSICAL BREAK!! ![]() ![]() [Ed. note: It's important to state that Reggie And The Full Effect's songs range fully from hardcore metal like this to cheesy European synth-pop to the standard MTV2-endorsed pop-punk of its era.] THE DAILY BOX SCORE: ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() And that's maybe the best idea I've had since I started this entry. Peace, it's the truth, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
30DBC PROMPT: "If you could be 13 years old again, (in this time period) would you?" 'Sup playas? An incredibly thought-provoking prompt in today's "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" ![]() The age thirteen is an awkward year for everyone. It's a collision between the innocence of youth and the realities of the world we live in. To paraphrase The Get Up Kids (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BwaiSvohO6Y), we're old enough to know better but young enough to pretend. While everything tends to look better through the gift of hindsight when colored by nostalgia, I think I can safely say that I'd almost rather not relive my days spent being thirteen. Note the italics. I rode a black 24" Huffy mountain bike emblazoned with a Stalker insignia, long before "stalking" became something criminals did. More often than not, I could be seen wearing a pair of spandex shorts in support of my junk the New York Mets. Every day was a new adventure playing baseball wherever we could set up a diamond and assemble enough people to play a game (right field is an automatic out!). The spray-painted strike box on the garage of the place abutted by the Randolph fire hall parking lot was my best friend, and occasionally I'd cheat on it in my grandmother's backyard where there were two tires set up against what looked like the hood of a car leaning against the garage. I thought I could be the next best pitcher of my generation, like my baseball hero, Dwight Gooden http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dwight_Gooden. I didn't have the tee-ball or Little League pedigree my real friends had; just the self-taught skills that come from watching games on tv and putting them to use in pick-up games. In that respect alone, it was a typical average American boy's childhood where everything was proven on the playing field. What I really wanna know is how come my formative years were spent watching "Happy Days", when I really should've been watching this instead (if I was gonna learn anything about life): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w3DpTs-iV7U. Where was the guidance? How come I wasn't a part of this show's viewing back in the day? Why was it not rerunned to death like "Chico And The Man" and "Starsky And Hutch", or "Three's Company"? My best experience at the age of thirteen is one I'll consider to be the best album of all time. Teased, were we, by the Beastie Boys' "Love American Style" EP that I was fortunate to own on cassette after their huge commercial breakthrough a few years before. "Paul's Boutique" (link:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IK-8XI1Tk4g}) became the soundtrack to many nights spent in my room after a long day of ballin' and bikin' in Cheektowaga. There was never an album like it before, and there will never be another one. Say what you will about some of the greatest bands in the history of music, but damn son, when corny whiteboy rappers can pull off sampling the Beatles' most beloved album http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SM32R91KMDc, you have no choice but to take notice. In this day and age, it would cost millions to recreate legally what they did sonically. As for me, I went the Terry Leach route http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terry_Leach with baseball and tried pitching sidearm, which ruined any chance of me having a decent pitching motion. Breaking my right shoulder a couple of times didn't help matters much. But I'll always have one of the most legendary albums of all time as shining memory of being thirteen. BCF PROMPT: "Which three of these skills are the most important for success in life? Why? Patience, common sense, humor, courage, creativity, resourcefulness, work ethic, organization, integrity, responsibility, compassion, self-control, pride, flexibility, obedience, love, kindness, independence, discernment, wisdom, initiative, friendliness or wit." What's your favorite color? Choose three out of the big box of wax with the sharpener in the back. Having any combination of the mentioned traits would likely be a successful grouping, but all come with costs and some are by-products of the others. I'm not here right now to debate them. Everyone learns on their own from each of the skills listed, but experience is the umbrella under which we figure out how to deal with all of the above. I don't think there's a set roadmap that says if you do "this, this, and that", you'll be successful. A lot of it has to do with luck as well. Being in the right place at the right time is just as important as busting your ass to get to where you are, and even then, sometimes that's not enough when life gets boiled down to popularity contests instead of the merits we should actually be using to judge an individual's worth in society. Too much rides on success, rather than the climb (unless the fail is epic). Do we play a part in creating our opportunities? Of course. The right to say yes or no is a great example of that. I guess if I were to play along and choose three like the prompt says, it'd be work ethic, resourcefulness, and love. Any one of the traits mentioned that breeds others in a positive way can't be wrong. It's all in how they're used which determines their benefits. MUSICAL BREAK!! ![]() ![]() THE DAILY BOX SCORE: ![]() There are rare occasions when I can't wait to hit "send" on an entry, but this is one of them. While I've probably written in the past how amazing "Paul's Boutique" is, I don't think I've ever afforded myself the opportunity to pair it with a critical age or a set of circumstances in life. Only through the combination of the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" ![]() ![]() |
30DBC PROMPT: "Write a persuasive blog post about a contest or activity going on during WDC birthday week. Check out 'Writing.Com Party Central 2013!' for a full listing of contests and activities. Make me compelled to compete in one, and earn yourself a 'Birthday' MB!" Hey folks...what's goin' on? I heard there's a party, and I'd really like to check it out. I suppose now's as good a time as any. I'll be honest...I haven't really checked out much of WDC's birthday festivities yet. I'm sure I will at some point this week, but I'm still marveling at some of the new changes that have been recently unveiled. I'm not normally a fan of change, but how can one not like the looks of things so far? I also tend to not always make the most persuasive arguments when I could really use them. It's probably because I don't always have the facts I need, and see things for only as they are on the surface. So I'm sure you'll forgive me if I can't really convince anyone right now to do anything they may not want to. That, and I feel like the only contest I've really talked about the last few days or so has been the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" ![]() Maybe it's just me. But that's how I see it. One contest I used to love participating in when I first joined WDC two laptops ago was "The Writer's Cramp" ![]() Writers are special people. What we do is often unheralded and overlooked, but we're key members of society. Someone's gotta do it! I'm gonna use a sports analogy: it's been noted that kickers in football and goalies in hockey are typically the most eccentric members of their respective teams, and that's what bloggers are to the writing community, I believe...we're the stand-outs in a society of its own where the purpose is to carve out a niche in order to be successful and have any kind of staying power. We're constantly inventing and reinventing words for currency in a world full of ourselves. Where the novelists are the main draws and the tv show writers have steady gigs based on ratings and viewership, bloggers toil in their craft apart and away from the mainstream. There's no measurable statistic other than page hits, which is a respectable method of calculating success outside of the gratification that comes just from being able to post your thoughts about anything for anyone to see. The weird part is that we're often judged on another person's interpretations of our work. There's no standard or physical tool that can gauge a blogger's heart other than his or her own personal satisfaction; everything is left in the hands and eyes of those who care to participate by reading them. Before I get too off-track, that's where I'm gonna leave it. A hundred people might read this, and you'll get a hundred different opinions of it. That's the beauty and the curse when you blog...and the risk taken when entering something like the 30DBC, which is well worth it if the reward you seek is just being able to write whatever you want about whatever the topic might be for a month straight. For us, it's the best place to be. BCF PROMPT: "Tell us about the best birthday present you've ever received!" Man, I don't even know if I have an answer for this. I don't normally give a shit about personal birthdays, to be honest (and if you've followed me for any given amount of time you'd know this and know why). I've had some pretty balls-out birthday celebrations, where family, friends and co-workers have converged to celebrate my being born. The kinds of shindigs where you turn around and you're suddenly quadruple-fisting Heinekens and wondering how you're gonna manage that when there's two shots of Crown Royal in front of you. But I think therein lies the answer. The best present isn't actually a physical gift you can unwrap. It's knowing that at once you were loved enough to attract so many people together from different backgrounds to have a great time in each others' company, singing boozy karaoke tunes and reveling in bar room chicanery. Togetherness like that is a gift that is often overlooked and taken for granted. Having a late July birthday (when there are no holidays to interfere) helps. Why am I so wistful and smart-sounding tonight? Damn. MUSICAL BREAK!! ![]() ![]() THE DAILY BOX SCORE: ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() 30/31: I love the new look of WDC's Blogging Calendar...it looks like the balls pulled from lotto draws. But the nostalgic side of me misses the days when the calendar would highlight your days' entries in blue, hence the term "blue month", coined by one of my favorite bloggers (and ex-Buffalonian like myself), Kåre Enga in Montana ![]() Well, I think I've said enough tonight (if I haven't said too much). I hope this was as enjoyable for you as it was for me to bash away at a keyboard. Let's just enjoy it for what it is. Peace, it's your birthday, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
30DBC PROMPT: "The Sunday Review" "Recall a memory or experience associated with the number thirteen. What significance does the number '13' have for you?" What's up friends? The "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" ![]() I'm also excited that I don't have to worry about doing a Sunday Review today, but don't tell anyone. ![]() I'm trying hard to figure out what the number 13 means. What memories (and I have tons of them...when I can actually remember them) do I have? Experiences? Significance? That's a toughie. I can tell you this...I'm a little superstitious, but not crazy paranoid about it. A little OCD, perhaps, but not to the point where I'm carrying a rosary and humming when I touch beads every time I see a black cat or break a mirror (ha...I say that like breaking mirrors happens all the time for me or something). But I do try to stay away from the number 13 if possible, because it's associated with bad luck supposedly. I've never worn it on a uniform or lived at an address with that designation. I guess I'm skeptical of it more than anything else...I don't want to chance karma or entice it by embracing 13. It's an awkward number. It's not evenly divisible by anything other than one or itself, it's the start of the teen years (and if anyone tells me their 13th year in life went smoothly I'm flat-out callin' you a liar), and nothing outside of a baker's dozen is merchandised for sale in packs of 13. And let's not even discuss the movie Friday The 13th, because that franchise should've reeled it in about eight or more runs into its history. Personally, other than the stigmas attached to the number 13, I don't have a problem with it. One of my closest friends growing up, who I haven't talked to in years but love dearly, used to fear the 13th every month. We would hang out all the time, but when the 13th came around, he was nowhere to be found. Later we learned he suffered from Triskaidekaphobia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Triskaidekaphobia), which basically is a fear of the number 13. Y'all can laugh and shrug it off if you want, but without getting into details about it, it can be a serious and crippling affliction. Those of you who've been reading my chunks of world wide web weaving for awhile now may be somewhat familiar with the cast of characters I've introduced to you in the past that have been central to many of the prompts I've had the pleasure of writing for (DMFM, my boy Adam, Bro Mike, Selfish Whore, G-Stamm, Pop Diesel, Verno, The CWC, and I'm sure there are more...if I've left any out, I apologize). Today I'll share a story about my friend mentioned above, who for this purpose we'll call Crash (no need right now to get into that story either). He's Crash, and I'm Chivo, because we were a team not only throughout high school, but especially in Spanish class, where chivo translates to goat (because I was one a handful of kids who could grow rock a goatee). Me and Crash would goof off all the time in Spanish class. There was a duo of upperclassmen (one year ahead of us) in our class on the other side of the room, and we pretty much had the same group of kids with the same teacher from freshman through junior year. They were hysterical, and we were almost their understudies. How we managed to learn anything with all of the nonsense and chicanery we would pull is amazing and an achievement for the bastion of education itself. Our teacher was, uhhh, let's just be nice and say, not physically active. She sat in a desk just like ours to run class, in front of her real desk. Rumor has it that during a fire drill she got stuck in that desk, and the custodians had to unscrew the desk from around her. She was also very stern, but had a heart. I liked her not only for what she let us pull, but for bitching at us when we went a little too far. And I would push those limits. ![]() Every year, we had a celebration where we were supposed to bring in Mexican dishes to share with the class. One year I brought in a thermos of coffee rationed with a ridiculous amount of milk, and it was Café Con Leche. Another year I smashed up a bunch of tomatoes and onions, mixed it with some spices, and it was a dope ass salsa. Quick, easy ways out. One of the coolest things we did was a parody of this commercial in Spanish: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BhHONpmlxPc. Because Crash was taller, he played the role of Michael Jordan, dunking on one of those tiny basketball rims with the suction cups we stuck up on the wall while I was Spike Lee's Mars Blackmon, outfitted with an Air Jordan tank top over a t-shirt with a neon green hat that I wrote "Brooklyn" in marker on the turned-up bill, with a clock around my neck (a la Flava Flav http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PBlMrGgpwXE). I think I did that "commercial" with one shoe, 'cuz I had to use one my own Jordans as a prop. I wish we still had a tape of that...it'd be hilarious to see now. There was also the episode at the beginning of class where I dropped my pen and had to reach down and away to my right to retrieve it. Crash thought it was the perfect opportunity to lift up my legs sticking out from the opposite side of my desk, and he tipped me out from my seat onto the floor...in front of the teacher. She didn't find it as funny as we did, and separated us in the classroom. That didn't stop our shenanigans though...looks can be just as pervasive as physical trouble-making. Eventually we were rerouted to our original seating arrangement. Me, being one who learns from experience, wrote an essay about our separation for an exam ![]() If I really sat and thought about it, Crash and I have had tons of awesome experiences together growing up. I love him like a brother and a best friend to this very day, even if we haven't talked in years. I introduced him to the amazing woman who would become his wife, and I was honored to be considered among the wedding party (which in itself is a whole 'nother story for another time). But life happens. He grew up and his childhood interests became his adult passion, and he's living it today defending our country. I may not understand or agree with the direction our country takes in certain situations, but I stand behind Crash and all the other men and women who decide to risk their lives and families for the sake of national security. I know I've missed chances to see him when he's come back to Buffalo, but I know we'll always have a connection. We've got an unspoken bond. I can't wait to see him again. BCF PROMPT: It's Sunday...the "Blogging Circle of Friends Prompt Forum" ![]() MUSICAL BREAK!! ![]() ![]() THE DAILY BOX SCORE: ![]() 13: Don't hold this against me. I do not now look like I do in this picture. I was definitely in my early teens here. I'm rockin' the mullet, large glasses, and striped dark-pinkish shirt. I wish I had a self-deathwish my yearbooks here now...I'd snap a picture of me in them with Blackberry Central so you could see how truly awful I looked. ** Image ID #1950349 Unavailable ** And just like that, September first is in the books. Sorry it wasn't more entertaining or noteworthy, but this is what happens occasionally when I'm baring this kinda stuff for public consumption. But don't worry...there's a whole month ahead of this that's bound to be legendary in some way or another. Don't feel obligated to share the link of this blog, but I won't mind if you do. Peace, easily, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
BCF PROMPT: "I don't know about you but when someone wakes me up in the middle of the night to talk, I tend to speak nonsense and in the morning wonder if I was dreaming or did we really talk. Share with us one of your midnight conversations. Was it with a good friend or sibling? How much did you really remember the next day? If you haven't had the pleasure of a midnight conversation, try to imagine what one would be like and with who." Happy Saturday, friends. Wow, that prompt's a mouthful! A lot of damning information could potentially be gleaned from admissions in today's entries. ![]() But not from me. At least not that I'm aware of. Nobody's snuck a recording device under my pillow lately to tap the conversations I have with it. Now, that's not to say that I don't talk in my sleep, because I've been told by more than one person that I do. And it's mad awkward when you're being asked the next morning by a girlfriend who so-and-so is, when you're not realizing you were saying an ex-girlfriend's name in your sleep. If ever there were a reason for scientists to invent some sort of cleansing device that can wipe the memory of a person's existence from your subconscious, hands down that's it. And like many of you I'm sure, I've made my fair share of ridiculous proclamations and demands while somewhere between reality and dreamland. One night, on the rarest of occasions that I'd happened to go to bed before my most recent ex-girlfriend, apparently I'd said to her, "Go in the kitchen and make me a sandwich!" Her response was that I should wake up, make it myself, and make her one too while I was in there. Some of you might also recall my foibles last week involving Ambien and emailing, which were documented here: "This one's about the terrors, and trial and error." ![]() But my primary concern as of late hasn't been the talking or emailing while asleep or en route to somewhere thereabouts. My biggest problem is controlling and restraining myself physically during the rare occasions that I can recall what I'm dreaming about. And if you've been with me long enough on WDC you may have heard this story before, but I'll share it one more time for the new kids in class. Not long after I'd started dating my previous girlfriend, I'd been shown pictures of her family and spoken with different members over the phone. I'd yet to meet them (her parents lived out of state). We'd gone to bed, and I began dreaming about us holding an outdoor party in the backyard during the summertime for our friends and family. It would be my first time meeting her folks, and I was nervous about trying to make a good first impression. Now, before I continue with the rest of the dream, please let the record state that I was very much in love with this woman and would never do anything to cause her harm. I was asleep on my left side with my right arm around her, and my right leg was crossed over my left one. Ok...back to the dream. I went in the kitchen...to do what exactly, I don't remember. All I know is somehow there were some decent-sized rats in our garbage can. I remained calm on the outside, but on the inside my mind was having one hell of a crisis. I didn't want her parents to find out we had rats in the kitchen, and since the closest door led out to the driveway and backyard where the party was, I couldn't just let the rats outside. I started stomping the garbage can. What happened next in the dream? Not a damn thing. Why? Because I was woken up by a screaming woman next to me while my right foot and leg were jackhammering into her legs. My physical activity wasn't enough to wake me up, but she certainly became loud enough to. Once I recognized the gravity of what I was doing (so y'all don't think I'm some mean, abusive prick), I immediately stopped and began profusely apologizing. Luckily, it wasn't a big deal and we fell back asleep shortly after. And thankfully we were always able to joke about it. I wish I could say that was my first and last time, but it wasn't. As far back as my youth, I remember waking myself up in the middle of the night after dreaming I was tripping or falling, and feeling like I had been floating before physically coming down like I'd actually just landed on my bed. It was the strangest sensation. Lately though, it's been kicking and punching...like I've been forced to defend myself in one way or another. I don't wake up until I'm in the middle of assaulting the wall next to me. It's a lot scarier than it sounds...I've managed a couple of times to make myself sore for a few days from doing that. I'm not gonna lie; part of me kinda wants to have something more interesting to say about this prompt. But it is what it is. I've probably sealed a partner-less fate for the rest of my life when it comes to sharing sheets by having typed all this out, but I was never really comfortable next to most of the people I've fallen asleep with in the first place anyway. And I'm strangely ok with all of that. Besides, if there's one trait of mine that should be stamped on me somewhere visibly for all to see like a giant human warning label, it's that I tend to be jumpy when startled even when I'm wide awake...so if you try to rouse me in the middle of the night it's best if you're also trying to shield yourself at the same time rather than expecting to have any kind of meaningful conversation with me, because I'm liable to strike first and then listen. And if by then you've managed to wake me up but I've rendered you unable to speak, I'm probably going to be even more upset before I fully grasp what just went down. Fair warning, ladies. Now, about that sandwich... MUSICAL BREAK!! ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() THE DAILY BOX SCORE: ![]() ![]() 8: I think I posted something like a total of eight combined Facebook statuses and Twitter updates in the last 24 hours, give or take a few. That's excessive. Maybe not for some, but for me it is. That's too many peeks between the shades into the windows of my life, and too many chances for me to either look like I have no clue what I'm talking about, or prove that I have a lot of extra time on my hands. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Ok y'all, I think you've had enough of me for one night. Besides, I should be conserving word power for the start of what might become the most epic month of blogging ever (and I'm not saying that to insinuate my own prowess, but rather to give rise to the notion that I think September's crop of 30DBC challengers might be one of the best in quite awhile). Peace, I'm Tracy Morgan, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
BCF PROMPT: "Can anything be funny, or are some things off limits? (Extra: Write a story or poem where someone has pushed the limit.)" Good evening y'all...you'd think we were in the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" ![]() The answer to this prompt is located on a thin line. And on either side of that line are decency and relaxation. The line itself? It's "eventually". Follow me as I attempt to explain. When you really want to enjoy yourself and have a good laugh, normally you're relaxed. It's pretty hard to find the humor in some situations when you're uptight or have a lot of heavy subjects weighin' down on that wrinkly matter inside your skull. You have to be able to kick back in order to let go. I'm not here to tell you how to have a good time, but it's been my experience that that's how these things kinda work. Decency, on the other hand, is sort of the thing that keeps the sides balanced. You want to laugh at peoples' attempts at humor, but you can only go so far before it's "too far", and "funny" becomes "weird", "creepy", or just plain "stupid". And it can be tough sometimes to figure out what the cutoff point is, because everyone's level of tolerance varies. I could tell a joke to a crowd of people and that crowd could be split four different ways: 25% Think it's hilarious. 25% Think it's kinda funny. 25% Think it's kinda stupid. 25% Wish I'd fall down a flight of stairs in a burning building while woodwind versions of One Direction songs play. (Actual percentages may vary...consult your local crowd for details.) "Eventually" is the variable in the whole mix. Why? Because no matter what, eventually everything becomes funny. The biggest example stems from what was also the biggest tragedy in our nation's history, 9/11. The world stopped for what seemed like forever, but eventually it had to start back up...and that meant baseball games were going to be played, jobs were going to be worked, music was gonna be rocked, and comedians were gonna start making people laugh again. I'm not trying personally to make light of a terrible moment in the history of the world, but it's true. Eventually, we were going to get back to being the people we were while doing the things we enjoy. (And the best part of this clip isn't actually in the clip, but it's what Mayor Giuliani said at the end of his monologue about Saturday Night Live not having been funny in years, so why start now...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tt94iNX80ZU.} And on a much smaller scale, everyone's lives are filled with those memories of moments where something's happened to them that made them so upset or angry that they vowed never to speak of it again, only to be reminded of it weeks, months, or years later during casual conversations or reminiscing, and much laughter then is shared by all. For me, I could tell you about numerous times that this has happened, but there's no point discussing prior relationships. ![]() One thing I find very helpful in situations where you think you're ok saying certain things is knowing your audience. Understand where the line is, and know what you can say and what you shouldn't say. I made a complete ass out of myself once while working at a drug store trying first to do my job, then by trying to be a little funny. A young lady, maybe within five to ten years of my own age, was standing in front of our enormous wall of batteries. I think everyone should do that someday...go into one of your larger national chain pharmacies, and check out their battery selection. Chances are, it's friggin' huge. That's just one of the things that's wrong with the greatest country on Earth...we have too many fucking batteries in all kinds of shapes and sizes and voltages and colors and stuff. There should be no need, in the 21st of all centuries, to have various types of batteries. Weren't technological advances in science and electronics supposed to take care of this situation by now? (I think this is where I'm supposed to apologize to anyone who works in the "Technology/ Sub-field: Batteries" division.) And in a pharmacy, no less, where the battery department is approximately the same size as a smaller Best Buy, the one place you'd think would carry every single stinkin' battery known to machines all over the world...Best Buy, which has 80,000 copies of Justin Timberlake's new album, but good luck finding a AAA battery or two to test out the remote control for the $1000 television you're thinking of buying. Wow, did I manage to get way off base there. ![]() So anyway, this girl was looking gazing at our wall of batteries, and I came by to offer some help because, let's face it, when you're looking for something that's about 1/8"x1/8"x1/16" on a wall that's approximately five feet high and twenty feet across, you're gonna need somebody with a sense of why things are arranged the way they are. I asked her once if she needed anything, and I got no response. Not even a flinch. I asked again, because sometimes I can be a little bit of a mumbles-mouth when I speak...and still, no answer. I stood there, not sure of what to think other than what a fool I must look like. I did that move where you kinda cock your head and lean the upper half of your body in, and your eyebrows raise, because you think somehow that your movements are gonna be louder than your voice, and again, silencio (which, for my Spanish-speaking friends, means "not a damn thing has been said after my attempts at trying to service this chick's needs"). I practically threw my hands up in the air in mock defeat. I inched a little closer, almost to the point of encroaching on her personal space, and made sure I slowly and clearly offered my assistance. I reached up almost directly in front of her to fix a row of batteries hanging on a peg, which managed to get her attention. That's good, because I was starting to wonder if she was one of those people who could fall asleep standing up with their eyes open. She held out her hand and started making what sounded like uncontrollable noises. In her palm was a hearing aid, and her "noises" were actually her trying to ask me if we carried batteries for it. Sometimes when dealing with the general population for so long you take for granted that everyone sounds the same and can speak fluently. And if I had actually been paying attention to where we were standing, I would've seen that we were right by the hearing aid section of the giant wall of batteries. Now, some of you will find that anecdote funny, and some will find it rather pointless, and I'm sure some will probably be offended by my portrayal of the innocent woman. I find it funny now, but I was frustrated, flustered and little put-off at first by the whole entirety of the situation. It's just proof that eventually, everything is funny to someone at some point. MUSICAL BREAK!! ![]() ![]() THE DAILY BOX SCORE: ![]() ![]() 30: Days in September, which I mentioned at the top is an Official 30DBC month, and it's shaping up to be a month of champions so far! It's one of the most fun activities I've been a part of in all my years of WDC usage, and I'm looking forward to this upcoming month. (And if entering isn't your thing, might I suggest you try judging it for a week? It's a fun experience, trust me. I've done it, and I enjoyed it.) ![]() ![]() ![]() Put it in the books, folks. Another Friday's been taken care of. If you're somewhere where they're celebrating a long weekend this weekend, enjoy it and be safe. If you're not, you have my permission to pretend it's a long weekend. Peace, it's on me, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
BCF PROMPT: "Many cultures have stories that describe the creation of the world. As a writer, write your own original account of how the world began." What's up folks? Before I get too carried away, let me see if I got this right...1975 wasn't the first year the world existed? You sure about that? Creation didn't happen simply because I was created? Awww man, now I've gotta change my perspective on so many things. ![]() I'm almost dreading looking at today's entries about this, because (in my opinion) this prompt kinda shares a bit of kinship with the "immortality" and "reincarnation" prompts we've seen in the past. The religious people are going to say "No way! Creation is at the hand of my lord and savior, <insert your favorite deity's name here>", the artsy creative types are going to argue that you can't mess with the truths of science because science is right and anything can be proven by science, and I'm stuck in the middle trying to pickpocket words from everyone passing by in this epic battle of theology and academia. May he/she who has the best propaganda win! For my money, the best story regarding the creation of the world is told in the movie Airplane, but I can't recall the scene exactly so it's pretty impossible to find a clip of it, and unless you're really familiar with a movie that's probably over thirty years old by now you likely have no idea what I'm talking about. You're gonna have to trust me on that, I guess (and if we're gonna have any kind of relationship, get used to hearing that a lot). I'm pretty sure the scene I'm referencing is near the end of the movie. But this prompt wants me to offer up my own theory on how the world began. Like I have any idea. I have a hard enough time making it up and down a flight of stairs, let alone having to consider making up a story about how the greatest planet in the universe came to be. [Side note: That could be one of the most underutilized marketing slogans ever! "Earth: Because where else would you rather live?" Somebody needs to look beyond this entry and hook me up with a job making up stuff like this.] Alright, here's what you should tell your kids when they're sitting on your lap and they ask you questions about this kind of stuff (and leave it up to kids to prove to you just how much about the world you really don't know), and you can't just give 'em a lollipop and tell them to play in traffic ('cuz they might choke). If they're young enough, you tell them that you created the world because you needed a bigger place to play. If they're on to you and ask you how, you say it's a secret and Santa Claus doesn't like it when adults give away secrets to little kids...he watches all year, ya heard? Then you can tell them to go fly a kite in a thunderstorm or somethin'. But most kids these days are smart. They won't fall for that crap. Hell, they've probably already stolen your smartphone, looked it up for themselves, changed your passcode, and are asking you just to humor themselves while you wonder why in the hell you're unable to look it up for yourself and provide them with an educated answer. And I'm pretty sure the scenario I just described is also 3/5ths of the preschool entrance exam being administered in most states north of Washington, DC and east of the Mississippi River (give or take a few larger metropolitan areas outside of those parameters). Activity Time! So here's what you do. Stick a kid in the center of the room. Pull out a bunch of Legos (the more, the better). Snap two bricks together and give the rest to the kid. Start walking around in a circle around the kid. Each time you pass directly in front of the kid, have him/her give you another brick (doesn't matter what kind or color) and snap it on. Keep doing this for about an hour, very gradually getting farther and farther away. If the kid has to throw Legos to you, so be it (and what kid doesn't like throwing things?). You just keep putting them together. Doesn't matter what you build. Eventually, when that little charade feels like it has run its course, take your fantastic Lego creation and stick that in the center of the room, in place of the kid, and arm the kid with all the rest of the Legos. Have him/her do the same thing you did...walking in circles around the Lego creation, tossing another brick at it, until all the Legos are gone. And What Did We Learn? That nobody is too old for Legos? That it doesn't matter how the world was created, but that we're here to enjoy it? That it just "kinda happened" in outer space by asteroids orbiting the sun and collecting particles of stuff along the way, 'til it got so big that people and animals and trees and stuff started growing out of it? All of the above!! Sure, why not? C'mon, you're not a teacher! (Unless you are a teacher...in that case, you shouldn't be taking cues from me anyway, but you're smart and you probably knew that already.) You ain't got time for no book-learnin'! Leave the important questions to the people who have all the right answers already, and get paid to share that info, for cryin' out loud! 'Cuz here in 'Murica, kids should just be kids and concern themselves with kid stuff...and not have to worry about who or what put the globe together and why or how all the pieces that make it fit the way they do wanna harm it through pollution and war. [Side note: This lesson is ![]() MUSICAL BREAK!! ![]() ![]() THE DAILY BOX SCORE: ![]() ![]() 90,000: Approximate GP's I'm gonna need to accumulate in the next day or so to keep my WDC upgrade. Not sure if I'll be able to participate in the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Having said that, I'm outta here. Gonna do some readin' up on y'all before I dive back in to more random reviewing. Peace, we can do as we choose, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
BCF PROMPT: "You are receiving an award –- either one that already exists, or a new one created just for you. What would the award be, why are you being honored, and what would you say in your acceptance speech?" Oh my. Hello, dear readers. I had some reservations last night when I saw this prompt. I really thought I was gonna sit this one out, for a few reasons...1) I could go several different ways with this prompt, which is longhand for "I got nothin'"; 2) it's 11pm already, and I want to be up semi-early tomorrow; and 3) I truly believe that a topic like this sounds better off the cuff and from the heart, rather than preparing and fumbling index cards with sweaty palms and sounding like you've written and rewritten your gratitude thousands of times. Plus, I already started writing this once, about an hour ago, and lost it because the internet hates me (and will be receiving no love from me during any kind of awards presentation). That's not to say that I wasn't thinking of things to talk about when I saw the prompt. I was. Almost immediately a particular song came into my head, which doesn't happen as often as I'd like but it's not enough to actually tip the scales toward posting a blog entry when 90% of me is already leaning the other way and just waiting for that stronger ten percent to take control. So I did what almost anybody in my situation would do. I checked Facebook. ![]() Because that's where we are in society these days! If I want to put off doing something, or I'm trying to convince myself not to do something, I go on Facebook because that's a guaranteed time-waster. There is very little material of value there, yet it's a sinkhole of time. The other day I woke up, checked email, read some news, went on Facebook, started playing Angry Birds, and the next thing I knew it was damn near dinner time. And you know at least once in your life you've lost an entire day to some stupid, meaningless game that has no bearing on your actual life. Anyway, before I go any further about Facebook, I got to thinking last night about the prompt at hand for today. Sure, I've won awards and stuff in my existence, but I don't believe I've ever been asked to give (or even prepare to give, just in case) an acceptance speech. In fact, the only time in recent memory that I've even been nominated for any kind of award has been during "The Quills" ![]() Here's where I'm gonna pull back the curtain a little bit and let you in on some of the machinations of my, uhhhh, mackin' on these words. Long before I actually shot this entry, "This one's about the video." ![]() ![]() And if you'll notice, I thank a few people at the end. (Here we go...this is where the entry become less of me thinking about talking about something, and more of me actually talking about it.) Like I said, if I would've won a Quill, I wouldn't have had a speech or anything like that prepared. But could you imagine me trying to film a video using Blackberry Central? Ten minutes of my forehead! I've had that phone for two and a half years and I could barely take a decent selfie with it, let alone try and shoot video of me talking. At least now if I wanted to take video, I've got the built-in webcam. So that's better. But as I was saying, yeah, I thanked a couple of bloggers at the end of that video, and I'd have a lot more to thank if I were to ever win outright any kind of blogging love. A lot of the people who were in the same blogging scene as I was when I started out aren't around WDC as much (if at all) anymore, but were it not for their encouragement back in the day, I wouldn't be here. We had a nice, tightly knit little community back then. But life happens, things change, blah blah blah. And like any good acceptance speech, I'm gonna keep this entry short tonight. No need to prattle on or get played off the stage by the band. Oh, speaking of which, yes, the band. When I went on Facebook earlier while I was debating whether or not I was gonna write an entry, I was scrolling through posts when I came across the band whose lyrics instantly came to mind when I saw the prompt last night. As the fates would have it, they actually posted the same song as their "Song Of The Day". I took that to be a sign...not a sign saying I had to write an entry, but a sign to figure out what the fuck I was actually gonna write about. Funny how these things happen sometimes. But I suppose it's better than having a great entry and no music to go along with it. At least that's how I think. MUSICAL BREAK!! ![]() ![]() THE DAILY BOX SCORE: ![]() ![]() I think I'll just leave it at that tonight. Not happy, not sad. Not angry, not glad. Just kinda blah. Thanks for reading this...if I were to ever win any kind of award for this, you're the most important people I'd have the privilege of bestowing gratitude upon. Without readers, all anyone who writes anything is doing is simply indulging their own ego just to see what they've typed on their own. Peace, don't change, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
BCF PROMPT: "In the old days, it was said, 'blondes had more fun'. With all the color options available to men and women today do you still think that still applies or does another hair color win? Or do you think it doesn't really matter?" Hey y'all...what's the good word? Looks like we're goin' from a semi-serious tone to something I can have a little bit of fun with tonight. Not that I mind, of course. Hair's just a lot more fun to talk about than the stuff that makes sleeping suck. The short story, "let's play the hits and go home", cop-out answer would just simply be "It doesn't effin' matter". Because it shouldn't, and that's why. ![]() No really, why should anyone get to have more fun on the basis of the color of their hair? Now for the reinforcements... I have naturally brown hair. I guess you could say it's a darker blonde now, but I haven't actually paid attention to what my hair has looked like in a few months. I've had short hair, long hair, and no hair at some point in life. Right now it's fairly long. About five or six years ago I started to let it grow out because I was sick of getting it cut every three or four weeks to maintain "the look", whatever that was. I wound up having a ponytail about a third of the way down my back. I had it cut off after about three years so I could donate it to http://www.locksoflove.org/, and ever since then it feels like that's the best way to cycle out my hairstyles...just say screw it, let it grow 'til it's long enough to give it up, and then start all over again. But that's not the point. I've dyed my hair blonde plenty of times. I went through a phase where I was dying it jet black. I also tried dying it with Kool-Aid once, but all that really did was turn the inside of my Cleveland Indians cap into a bleeding raspberry-scented mess. And as much as any new hairdo will do wonders for your self-esteem, perspective or lot in life, yo, check this out: for the most part, you're still the same person on the inside. Changing your looks aren't always gonna change that. Sure, maybe you'll see different opportunities that you may not have seen before, but it all comes out in the proverbial wash anyway. Here's an anecdote that may or may not prove my point...when I became old enough to be called an adult, I decided I was only gonna date blondes. Now, by then I was a decent enough lookin' guy, and I endured my share of awkwardness socially when I was younger, but I was in no way one who deserved the right to be callin' his shot when it came to the layyyy-deeeez. I had no business thinking that I was going to find the hottest blonde in the place just because that's what I wanted. But that's what I set out to do. It took getting my heart broken a couple of times and breaking a few more in the process to realize that I was cutting myself off from large chunks of the population because of my stubbornness, let alone my prejudicial behavior in believing that these smokin' hot blonde chicks were supposed to be more fun and that I had to be with them because I like fun. Yet, in some cases the opposite could actually have been said...not only were some blondes complete exhausting bores, but I met more than a few brunettes who were absolutely a blast to be around. I had let my judgment get so out of whack by trusting my eyes over my brain and my brain over my heart. But that's how them newfangled young adult minds were geared to work back in the day, I figure. Live and learn. What did I stand to gain by taking a stance against the rules of attraction in the name of my younger self and every other guy who was told by a close female friend that he'd be "the perfect boyfriend" if he "wasn't so short"? Nothing. Not a damn thing. When you limit yourself, you're just missin' out on a whole buncha other cool stuff. And that's from me to you. ![]() MUSICAL BREAK!! ![]() ![]() THE DAILY BOX SCORE: ![]() ![]() ![]() 6/2: Likes and shares of my humble creation as of this writing. At that rate, I'll be internet famous well past the time we've all moved on from the internet to the next big thing that consumes too much of our lives. ![]() ![]() ![]() Ok, well, this has been a blasty and all, but I've got little to show for my efforts tonight so I'm gonna clear on outta this spot for the time being and make way for you to leave a thought or a kind word below. And if you have neither, leave that too! Peace, twerk it, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |