Fear and Loathing in Tallahassee...Mr Bowden has cashed his check...exit stage left to my unlikely hero...
I’m not going to even pretend to have any kind of “objectivity” or respectful detachment from this one. It’s all personal and it’s not going to be without a sense of the finality of my misspent youth.
Bobby Bowden announced he would retire as coach at Florida State after 34 years on the job. And while the general tone might sound as if I’m happy, I can’t really allow myself to be thrilled at the end of one mans livelihood in a way that neither he or anyone else quite imagined it would come down.
First, let’s go back to October 5th , and see what I had to say in response to the news story about the chairman of the FSU Board of Trustees saying that Bowden should call it a career at the end of the season–the majority of the other responses were generally negative towards this development, hence my statement about dissent:
oh goody, I get to do what I do best--the voice of dissent.
I've been a Florida State fan for 30 years, and I know how many people admire and love Bowden. But let's face some cold harsh realities.
While he took Florida State from nothing to one of the top 20 programs in America, he is doing nothing good for the school by lingering around solely for the purpose of trying to be the winningest coach of all time. Nothing is going to erase what he has done, nothing is going to take away from all the great wins.
But somebody has to ask the question to him, and expect a straight answer--is his motivation the record, or does he really believe he is acting in the best interest of the school, his players, his coaches, and the fans?
He is paralyzing the program by not coming clean about his intentions, and he is hurting everything that is rightfully his--the reputation of Florida State's football program--by not seeing that by lingering around, just like his idol The Bear did, he is diminishing his accomplishments. It took Alabama years to recover from the post-Bear hangover, and I'm afraid that FSU will suffer the same fate.
He deserves to quit on his own terms, but he owes it to his constituency to make a decision, sooner rather than later.
So, I have to look at the whole picture, and say to him the same thing Oliver Cromwell told the Long Parliament-- In the name of God, Go.
So now that we have established the particulars about my own thinking, let’s delve into the deeper issue, as far as I’m concerned.
I was a Florida State fan long before there was a bandwagon to ride. I was the bandwagon and in the 1970's, there wasn’t the mass exposure of college football that exists today. So it was hard to follow an unknown college football team that you couldn’t actually see, but you knew that it was there. Unless you actually lived in Florida, it was probably a stretch to even be able to name where Florida State University was located. But like everything else I do, I tried to get as much info as I could. And it was a great time to get in on the ground floor of something exciting like a crappy college football team that was turning the corner and beating people they had no business beating. Nebraska, Notre Dame, Pitt, Ohio State, LSU. In a 3 year period, Florida State beat all of them at least once. And they did it by slinging the ball all over the field, reverses, trick plays, the whole shooting match. Bowden never let the consequences bother him, he just kept on throwing the ball.
As the 80's inched along, the Seminoles got better every year. They could never seem to get past Miami, but the rest of the ride was pretty interesting.
But as time went on, Bowden got more cautious. He started to play the percentages more, started to reign in the offense in order to get results rather than entertain. All of which I had no problem with. As long as the score was right at the end of the game, I was all for it.
I don’t want boring, stodgy football. I want action and scoring and winning. And I don’t want excuses as to why I’m not getting it.
There have been many days I sort of felt like Cubs fans do (at least I’m pretty sure they must feel this way) when they wonder “why bother? Why have optimism when there is only going to be a disappointment at the end?” The many times I swore that I was going to give up on them were soon just a memory of instantaneous insanity in the wake of a defeat. I persevered and suffered, because that’s what you do if you love something enough. It’s a bit dysfunctional at times, but it gets you through the day. I never once believed that I was going to be a naysayer, a squeaky wheel to demand change for the sake of change.
But I eventually became that person, as evidenced by the above passage. What that says about me I have no idea. If I can’t stand up for the right of self-determination, what other principle am I going to abandon in the future?
I feel sad for Bobby, because he was sort of like another grandfather to me. You knew he was a bit campy and you might not agree with everything he said, but you loved him just because he was there and indirectly shaped your life in ways that you might not have imagined. But sometimes you had to wonder why he had that look on his face like “what the heck am I doing? I don’t need this”.
You don’t just lose your touch all at once, it just slips away gradually. And I don’t think Bobby ever quite realized that his touch was leaving him as much as it actually did. It has nothing to do with his age or his values, it just sort of happens to everyone.
I don’t think I’m prepared to blabber on in a sentimental way about him, because he’s not dead. I don’t have a sense of loss, but I feel like part of my life has ended in a way I wished had been different.
12/02/2009
The Road to Hell is paved with Good Intentions
I see humor in so many different circumstances that on the surface don’t have any humor in them, but 2 things this weekend seemed ripe for my amusement when the details came through the mist.
The tragic shooting of 4 police officers in Washington state doesn’t have any kind of mirth involved in it. It was a blatant act of cowardice and the reasons will probably never be very clear to anyone. But the emerging fact that the suspected killer was a former felon whose sentence was commuted has one particularly humorous sidelight. The person who did said commutation was none other than Mike Huckabee, the itinerant preacher/sideshow act/wannabe GOP Presidential candidate, who formerly was governor of Arkansas. I just can’t imagine how Huckabee is going to spin his way out of responsibility for releasing a man serving a 108 year sentence, who ends up walking into a coffee shop and gunning down 4 cops. I doubt that Karl Rove or Jesus Christ himself could help Mike out of this mess. Any hopes he had of ever kicking back in the office at 1600 Pennsylvania have completely gone out the window. The specter of Willie Horton has aborted Huckabees’ campaign before it ever had a chance of getting started (yes the use of that phrasing is intended for ironic purposes). Between Mike and Sarah Palin, the GOP has 2 undeclared/prospective candidates for 2012 with more baggage than even Southwest Airlines would allow on a flight for free. Huckabee should stay as far away from any FOP conventions for awhile, if he has any sense at all, and that’s debatable at the best of times.
Meanwhile, a man in serious need of the Lord and a good lawyer is one Eldrick T Woods, and the sooner the better in his case. Eldrick found himself in a bit of domestic rough on Thanksgiving night that he couldn’t save par from. Mrs Woods suggested he play a 7 iron, since his caddy was unavailable, but Eldrick demurred, and Mrs allegedly proceeded to penalize Eldrick with a stroke and distance penalty. On a related note, no mention was made of Mrs Woods handicap in any of the reports I’ve read.
We’d have never gotten a good laugh at Eldrick’s expense if he hadn’t decided he needed to run for a pack of smokes at 2:30 in the morning. I’d bet he wishes he’d called his neighbor Ken Griffey Jr for a lift instead.
Of course, Thanksgiving is not really a good time to face the family when a tabloid story about Eldrick working on his scoring average hits the stands the same week. And I’m sure that the holiday leftovers are not going down too well in the Woods abode now that a prominent glossy gossip mag has another unrelated report on Eldrick’s night putting with another groupie. Just putting, at night.
Now, I’m not mad if Eldrick thought he needed a few extra rounds away from home. Everyone knows chicks dig the long ball. But c’mon man. A 34 year old nightclub “hostess”? If you’re 34 and still a VIP shill at a nightclub, you need to think about your career choices. And I forgot what the other one was (actually I just don’t have the info at my fingertips) but I seem to think it was one of the millions of waitress/aspiring actress types that are everywhere these days, not just L.A.
If Eldrick doesn’t know these are not the kind of women you should be giving a free drop to, then he has less sense than I even imagined.
But the biggest and most appalling “transgression” he committed was asking all of us to “give him and his family some privacy”. Yeah right.
If he wants to shield his life from public scrutiny so that the rest of us don’t see how shallow and boring he is, fine. Mission accomplished. But I take the same view as I do with any and all celeb-utards, public people and hucksters–-Do Not Ask for Privacy today, and then earnestly ask me to purchase a product you get for free tomorrow. That is the most cynical, arrogant, and white trash attitude anyone can adopt. And I won’t subscribe to it. Anyone who does it should be tarred and feathered and dragged by their feet behind a slow moving ice cream truck.
Even his apology seemed contrived and insincere. It was almost like he was asking for forgiveness for affairs he has yet to have.
I suspect that Eldrick will be the next reality show. Some PR flack is dreaming up the pilot as we speak. He could show the world he really is just another Ozzy, except with a more interesting wardrobe. Then people would leave him alone, which is apparently what he really wants. Except for the golf. Then he wants your full attention. And your lovely, filthy money.
Res Ipsa Loquitur
The tragic shooting of 4 police officers in Washington state doesn’t have any kind of mirth involved in it. It was a blatant act of cowardice and the reasons will probably never be very clear to anyone. But the emerging fact that the suspected killer was a former felon whose sentence was commuted has one particularly humorous sidelight. The person who did said commutation was none other than Mike Huckabee, the itinerant preacher/sideshow act/wannabe GOP Presidential candidate, who formerly was governor of Arkansas. I just can’t imagine how Huckabee is going to spin his way out of responsibility for releasing a man serving a 108 year sentence, who ends up walking into a coffee shop and gunning down 4 cops. I doubt that Karl Rove or Jesus Christ himself could help Mike out of this mess. Any hopes he had of ever kicking back in the office at 1600 Pennsylvania have completely gone out the window. The specter of Willie Horton has aborted Huckabees’ campaign before it ever had a chance of getting started (yes the use of that phrasing is intended for ironic purposes). Between Mike and Sarah Palin, the GOP has 2 undeclared/prospective candidates for 2012 with more baggage than even Southwest Airlines would allow on a flight for free. Huckabee should stay as far away from any FOP conventions for awhile, if he has any sense at all, and that’s debatable at the best of times.
Meanwhile, a man in serious need of the Lord and a good lawyer is one Eldrick T Woods, and the sooner the better in his case. Eldrick found himself in a bit of domestic rough on Thanksgiving night that he couldn’t save par from. Mrs Woods suggested he play a 7 iron, since his caddy was unavailable, but Eldrick demurred, and Mrs allegedly proceeded to penalize Eldrick with a stroke and distance penalty. On a related note, no mention was made of Mrs Woods handicap in any of the reports I’ve read.
We’d have never gotten a good laugh at Eldrick’s expense if he hadn’t decided he needed to run for a pack of smokes at 2:30 in the morning. I’d bet he wishes he’d called his neighbor Ken Griffey Jr for a lift instead.
Of course, Thanksgiving is not really a good time to face the family when a tabloid story about Eldrick working on his scoring average hits the stands the same week. And I’m sure that the holiday leftovers are not going down too well in the Woods abode now that a prominent glossy gossip mag has another unrelated report on Eldrick’s night putting with another groupie. Just putting, at night.
Now, I’m not mad if Eldrick thought he needed a few extra rounds away from home. Everyone knows chicks dig the long ball. But c’mon man. A 34 year old nightclub “hostess”? If you’re 34 and still a VIP shill at a nightclub, you need to think about your career choices. And I forgot what the other one was (actually I just don’t have the info at my fingertips) but I seem to think it was one of the millions of waitress/aspiring actress types that are everywhere these days, not just L.A.
If Eldrick doesn’t know these are not the kind of women you should be giving a free drop to, then he has less sense than I even imagined.
But the biggest and most appalling “transgression” he committed was asking all of us to “give him and his family some privacy”. Yeah right.
If he wants to shield his life from public scrutiny so that the rest of us don’t see how shallow and boring he is, fine. Mission accomplished. But I take the same view as I do with any and all celeb-utards, public people and hucksters–-Do Not Ask for Privacy today, and then earnestly ask me to purchase a product you get for free tomorrow. That is the most cynical, arrogant, and white trash attitude anyone can adopt. And I won’t subscribe to it. Anyone who does it should be tarred and feathered and dragged by their feet behind a slow moving ice cream truck.
Even his apology seemed contrived and insincere. It was almost like he was asking for forgiveness for affairs he has yet to have.
I suspect that Eldrick will be the next reality show. Some PR flack is dreaming up the pilot as we speak. He could show the world he really is just another Ozzy, except with a more interesting wardrobe. Then people would leave him alone, which is apparently what he really wants. Except for the golf. Then he wants your full attention. And your lovely, filthy money.
Res Ipsa Loquitur
9/30/2009
Well, The World Needs Ditchdiggers Too
(a post from Newsvine, this particular full page ad just made me furious)
There was a full page ad in the Dayton Daily News today, which had the ominous headline "This wheelchair is my future once the U.S. Treasury stops my GM Health Care". The ad goes on to enlighten us to the plight of one Debra Turner, who has multiple sclerosis and rheumatoid arthritis. She is a 51 year old retiree who pays $3400 a month in medications (well, her insurance pays for it actually). Debra goes on to tell us that when GM emerges from bankruptcy she will lose her health benefits, as well as 50,000 other retirees. Poor Debra will be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her natural life.
I'm sure that you think I'm probably going to venture off into a frantic plea on Debra's behalf. That I'm going to say how terrible this state of affairs is and how we should be doing everything we can to make sure this woman isn't left without the chance of a full life.
And I Could do that. But it Would Be Wrong.
The fact is, Debra elicits almost no sympathy from me at all. Her travails are almost inconsequential in the big scheme of things.
Let's narrow down the source of my cold hearted indifference, and why it is a symptom of today's political and economic climate.
Debra is thoroughly unemployable, seeing as she has 2 major debilitating genetic diseases. At 51 she could've led a fully functional working life for the next 15 years or so, but the fact she cannot move her joints and has a degenerative condition means she would've been a functional vegetable anyway, health benefits or not.
The concept that the United States Treasury is forcing her off the rolls of permanently disabled is nothing more than a calculated attempt at deflecting from the real cause--the insolvancy of the corporation that employed her, General Motors. Lost on most everyone is the fact that GM steered billions of dollars in profits into the pockets of the upper management, shareholders and various sham enterprises, while they deferred payments into pension and benefits plans for their employees. When the chickens came home to roost, GM was caught with their pants down. And now Debra has to pay for their malfeasence.
I wonder if the IUE-CWA, the union which paid for this particular piece of advertising, ever considered what would've happened if we had just let GM go along their own merry way and go broke. There would have been a meltdown on the proportions of an economic Nuclear Winter. No one in their sphere would have jobs, benefits or pensions.
It's beyond the comprehension of anyone with a moderate amount of common sense to expect that you will be taken care of for the rest of your natural life with free health and dental care. The whole idea of providing health care to people who retire at age 50 after 30 years of work, and live for another 25-30 years is outside of the bounds of rational business (or societal) principles.
We've gone crazy with the idea that we should be trying to extend the lifespan of human beings to the point of taxing the medical industy to the breaking point under the current system of most economic models. There are a lot of people out there who are being kept alive for no good reason other than the fact that we can actually do it. Is that a good reason for continuing to do so?
This has nothing to do with being anti-union, anti-GM, anti-American or anti anything else. Except for the fact I'm tired of subsidizing people living beyond their evolutionary life cycle.
There was a full page ad in the Dayton Daily News today, which had the ominous headline "This wheelchair is my future once the U.S. Treasury stops my GM Health Care". The ad goes on to enlighten us to the plight of one Debra Turner, who has multiple sclerosis and rheumatoid arthritis. She is a 51 year old retiree who pays $3400 a month in medications (well, her insurance pays for it actually). Debra goes on to tell us that when GM emerges from bankruptcy she will lose her health benefits, as well as 50,000 other retirees. Poor Debra will be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her natural life.
I'm sure that you think I'm probably going to venture off into a frantic plea on Debra's behalf. That I'm going to say how terrible this state of affairs is and how we should be doing everything we can to make sure this woman isn't left without the chance of a full life.
And I Could do that. But it Would Be Wrong.
The fact is, Debra elicits almost no sympathy from me at all. Her travails are almost inconsequential in the big scheme of things.
Let's narrow down the source of my cold hearted indifference, and why it is a symptom of today's political and economic climate.
Debra is thoroughly unemployable, seeing as she has 2 major debilitating genetic diseases. At 51 she could've led a fully functional working life for the next 15 years or so, but the fact she cannot move her joints and has a degenerative condition means she would've been a functional vegetable anyway, health benefits or not.
The concept that the United States Treasury is forcing her off the rolls of permanently disabled is nothing more than a calculated attempt at deflecting from the real cause--the insolvancy of the corporation that employed her, General Motors. Lost on most everyone is the fact that GM steered billions of dollars in profits into the pockets of the upper management, shareholders and various sham enterprises, while they deferred payments into pension and benefits plans for their employees. When the chickens came home to roost, GM was caught with their pants down. And now Debra has to pay for their malfeasence.
I wonder if the IUE-CWA, the union which paid for this particular piece of advertising, ever considered what would've happened if we had just let GM go along their own merry way and go broke. There would have been a meltdown on the proportions of an economic Nuclear Winter. No one in their sphere would have jobs, benefits or pensions.
It's beyond the comprehension of anyone with a moderate amount of common sense to expect that you will be taken care of for the rest of your natural life with free health and dental care. The whole idea of providing health care to people who retire at age 50 after 30 years of work, and live for another 25-30 years is outside of the bounds of rational business (or societal) principles.
We've gone crazy with the idea that we should be trying to extend the lifespan of human beings to the point of taxing the medical industy to the breaking point under the current system of most economic models. There are a lot of people out there who are being kept alive for no good reason other than the fact that we can actually do it. Is that a good reason for continuing to do so?
This has nothing to do with being anti-union, anti-GM, anti-American or anti anything else. Except for the fact I'm tired of subsidizing people living beyond their evolutionary life cycle.
Things that make me tick--Like a Bomb!
(just a bit of ranting, combined with a recollection of my favorite moments from my days working the door at Newcoms)
I'm always thinking about this stuff, but tonight one of those little things that makes you shake your head happened and I figured I would finally get around to venting about my pet peeves. I've found that the depths of people's depravity and social ignorance has not yet discovered a limit. I used to work as a doorman at a bar and some of these examples are things I've encountered along the way, as well as things from everday life that are obnoxious and annoying.
Item 1--people who cannot talk and walk at the same time.
The example tonight was common these days--two or more people talking to each other and then stopping right in your path. And to make matters worse, people who will do so while going into or out of a doorway. They start walking, then they stop and continue the conversation, oblivious to anything around them.
Item 2--people who preface a question by saying "can I ask you a question?" or some variation thereof. I usually say something witty like--"Maybe" or "you can but I may not give you an answer." I think this is a lack of social skills. Or an inability to function as a conversant human being. it's a crutch, like when you go "uh" between words.
Item 3--people who talk too loud for the situation.
My downstairs neighbors have two volumes--not talking and "outside" voice. They never talk in a normal tone to one another. (I just used all three forms of "to" in this paragraph, all correctly I might add...which leads me to the next one)
Item 4--people who don't know how to spell
you've seen it before, the person who writes something and misspells an easy word, or uses the wrong article or spells the word like they think it should be based on the sound. This is just plain laziness in some, lack of proper instruction in others. And the thing is, it should embarrass them, but it doesn't.
Item 5--people who want to talk for others.
I used to get this alot. You're having a perfectly normal conversation with someone, and their friend thinks he'll be helpful by jumping in like some lawyer to argue on their behalf. Normally I would say something like--"I'm talking to them, Not You". or if I want to be a bit less harsh, I might say "are you their lawyer?" What usually happens is the second person ends up making more of a mess of the situation than it has to be.
Item 6--people who are helpful by telling you how "it should be".
this is a corollary to the above. I never cease to be amazed at how many people know how to run a business better than my boss. And most of them don't have a clue how things work in real life.
Item 7--people who won't take "no" for answer
again, a sub-corollary to the above. They think they will just charm their way, or bully their way into getting what they want. Let me tell you something, I can be swayed by a reasonable, factually based argument. But if my mind is made up, and you haven't produced an idea that has any relevancy to the discussion, I'm not changing my mind. Period.
Item 8--people who think they are more important than their station in life
the theme continues. I have never been impressed by anyone who drops names, tries to get me to believe something that sounds far-fetched or thinks they deserve something not on offer. This is entitlement theory, and it should be rooted out at it's source--At Home.
Item 9--people who don't have the foresight to prepare ahead of time
I don't smoke anymore, but when I did, I knew what the reasonable expectation of how many cigarettes I might smoke in the course of an evening could be, and I would weigh that against my existing allotment of cigarettes on my person. If I thought the numbers didn't add up, I'd buy another pack. Simple really. But I rarely bummed smokes off someone else. it would have to be an extreme emergency. This example could be worked around to account for many situations.
Item 10--the person who wants you to "do them a favor"
Or who wants something for nothing. I have no problem doing favors for people who I know might have a reasonble chance of doing something for me. But not everyone or just anyone. Unless you are willing to barter up front, no deal. Many people who claimed to have a degree in business never got this piece of logic into their heads when I put it to them like that.
I think 10 is enough for now. these are just the ones I see all the time, but I could probably come up with 10 more example-specific ones to really point out the dumbing down of our society.
Res Ipsa Loquitar
I'm always thinking about this stuff, but tonight one of those little things that makes you shake your head happened and I figured I would finally get around to venting about my pet peeves. I've found that the depths of people's depravity and social ignorance has not yet discovered a limit. I used to work as a doorman at a bar and some of these examples are things I've encountered along the way, as well as things from everday life that are obnoxious and annoying.
Item 1--people who cannot talk and walk at the same time.
The example tonight was common these days--two or more people talking to each other and then stopping right in your path. And to make matters worse, people who will do so while going into or out of a doorway. They start walking, then they stop and continue the conversation, oblivious to anything around them.
Item 2--people who preface a question by saying "can I ask you a question?" or some variation thereof. I usually say something witty like--"Maybe" or "you can but I may not give you an answer." I think this is a lack of social skills. Or an inability to function as a conversant human being. it's a crutch, like when you go "uh" between words.
Item 3--people who talk too loud for the situation.
My downstairs neighbors have two volumes--not talking and "outside" voice. They never talk in a normal tone to one another. (I just used all three forms of "to" in this paragraph, all correctly I might add...which leads me to the next one)
Item 4--people who don't know how to spell
you've seen it before, the person who writes something and misspells an easy word, or uses the wrong article or spells the word like they think it should be based on the sound. This is just plain laziness in some, lack of proper instruction in others. And the thing is, it should embarrass them, but it doesn't.
Item 5--people who want to talk for others.
I used to get this alot. You're having a perfectly normal conversation with someone, and their friend thinks he'll be helpful by jumping in like some lawyer to argue on their behalf. Normally I would say something like--"I'm talking to them, Not You". or if I want to be a bit less harsh, I might say "are you their lawyer?" What usually happens is the second person ends up making more of a mess of the situation than it has to be.
Item 6--people who are helpful by telling you how "it should be".
this is a corollary to the above. I never cease to be amazed at how many people know how to run a business better than my boss. And most of them don't have a clue how things work in real life.
Item 7--people who won't take "no" for answer
again, a sub-corollary to the above. They think they will just charm their way, or bully their way into getting what they want. Let me tell you something, I can be swayed by a reasonable, factually based argument. But if my mind is made up, and you haven't produced an idea that has any relevancy to the discussion, I'm not changing my mind. Period.
Item 8--people who think they are more important than their station in life
the theme continues. I have never been impressed by anyone who drops names, tries to get me to believe something that sounds far-fetched or thinks they deserve something not on offer. This is entitlement theory, and it should be rooted out at it's source--At Home.
Item 9--people who don't have the foresight to prepare ahead of time
I don't smoke anymore, but when I did, I knew what the reasonable expectation of how many cigarettes I might smoke in the course of an evening could be, and I would weigh that against my existing allotment of cigarettes on my person. If I thought the numbers didn't add up, I'd buy another pack. Simple really. But I rarely bummed smokes off someone else. it would have to be an extreme emergency. This example could be worked around to account for many situations.
Item 10--the person who wants you to "do them a favor"
Or who wants something for nothing. I have no problem doing favors for people who I know might have a reasonble chance of doing something for me. But not everyone or just anyone. Unless you are willing to barter up front, no deal. Many people who claimed to have a degree in business never got this piece of logic into their heads when I put it to them like that.
I think 10 is enough for now. these are just the ones I see all the time, but I could probably come up with 10 more example-specific ones to really point out the dumbing down of our society.
Res Ipsa Loquitar
Swine of the Week 1/19--The Famous Final Scene
(I did this on Bush's last day in office, and I got my point that I had in head across pretty well)
I just finished reading the latest book by Thomas Friedman called "Hot, Flat and Crowded", and like his other books, you learn a lot and you shake your head at the amazing examples of the wrong way to approach a problem. Of course, the problem in this latest book is Global Warming (and no, we will not be having a debate or discussion about whether it actually exists or not). Friedman covers the spectrum of problems revolving around the problems of fossil fuel gases and the road we are taking or not taking towards cleaner energy.
Since we are into the final few hours of the term of George W Bush, it seems appropriate that his legacy will be a failed public policy that primarily centers around oil. He was an oilman; ok, he was a terrible oilman, but that's splitting hairs. Friedman recites a quote Bush made in his initial campaign for President that he would shape oil policy by the sheer force of his personality and his friendly relations with the Saudi Royal Family and how he would just persuade them to keep oil production so that it was a relatively cheap resource for America. Time has shown that didn't ever really fly. In fact, it was at lengths responsible for what happened on September 11, and everything that has gone down since then. A ten year old child could see that the Saudis are not really our friends, they only do what they need to keep the flow of fancy military hardware flowing into their possession.
But we'll keep the geopolitics to a minimum today. It's the end of an era, not an Era of Good Feeling, but an Era of White Trash, and it can't come soon enough. If the business of America is Business, as another Republican President once said, then George has done to our business what he's done to every other one he's been involved with in his life–run it into the ground.
For all the billions he's poured down the drain to fight enemies unseen, he's not produced a tangible dividend to his shareholders–that would be You and Me, Sport. He has devalued our shares in America Inc. to the point that they are as worthless as a stock certificate for Morgan Stanley.
And yet, like all of his other failed business ventures, he'll walk away scott-free. His own personal wealth won't be affected, he'll still have a roof over his head, and a generous retirement benefit to boot.
I read a piece by David Broder today about how Bush never expected Americans to make a sacrifice after 9/11, a subject that Friedman has also gone into at length in the past. I'm too lazy to find a link for it, you'll just have to go look for it yourself. And it rings true, if we had gone into the War of Terror with the same sort of mentality that we went into World War 2 with, there's a good chance that things would be a lot different today.
Bush never had a vision for America that made any sense to anyone but himself. And for that, he gets the coveted Swine of the Week, a special Undistinguished Lifetime Achievement Award.
Selah
I just finished reading the latest book by Thomas Friedman called "Hot, Flat and Crowded", and like his other books, you learn a lot and you shake your head at the amazing examples of the wrong way to approach a problem. Of course, the problem in this latest book is Global Warming (and no, we will not be having a debate or discussion about whether it actually exists or not). Friedman covers the spectrum of problems revolving around the problems of fossil fuel gases and the road we are taking or not taking towards cleaner energy.
Since we are into the final few hours of the term of George W Bush, it seems appropriate that his legacy will be a failed public policy that primarily centers around oil. He was an oilman; ok, he was a terrible oilman, but that's splitting hairs. Friedman recites a quote Bush made in his initial campaign for President that he would shape oil policy by the sheer force of his personality and his friendly relations with the Saudi Royal Family and how he would just persuade them to keep oil production so that it was a relatively cheap resource for America. Time has shown that didn't ever really fly. In fact, it was at lengths responsible for what happened on September 11, and everything that has gone down since then. A ten year old child could see that the Saudis are not really our friends, they only do what they need to keep the flow of fancy military hardware flowing into their possession.
But we'll keep the geopolitics to a minimum today. It's the end of an era, not an Era of Good Feeling, but an Era of White Trash, and it can't come soon enough. If the business of America is Business, as another Republican President once said, then George has done to our business what he's done to every other one he's been involved with in his life–run it into the ground.
For all the billions he's poured down the drain to fight enemies unseen, he's not produced a tangible dividend to his shareholders–that would be You and Me, Sport. He has devalued our shares in America Inc. to the point that they are as worthless as a stock certificate for Morgan Stanley.
And yet, like all of his other failed business ventures, he'll walk away scott-free. His own personal wealth won't be affected, he'll still have a roof over his head, and a generous retirement benefit to boot.
I read a piece by David Broder today about how Bush never expected Americans to make a sacrifice after 9/11, a subject that Friedman has also gone into at length in the past. I'm too lazy to find a link for it, you'll just have to go look for it yourself. And it rings true, if we had gone into the War of Terror with the same sort of mentality that we went into World War 2 with, there's a good chance that things would be a lot different today.
Bush never had a vision for America that made any sense to anyone but himself. And for that, he gets the coveted Swine of the Week, a special Undistinguished Lifetime Achievement Award.
Selah
Swine of the Week--Mid Season Report
(this is my best effort from my Newsvine blog. It was supposed to be 2 parts, but I didn't ever get around to continuing it)
Swine of the Week Unleashed!
More Swine--All of the Time!
I've been a bit lazy with any sort of regularity for the Swine of the Week, but now that the 4th of July has come and gone, we could review some of the more interesting candidates that have emerged all at once in the month of June and the first full week of July.
Let's just start with all of the easy cheap shots first, just to warm things up a bit...
I can't say anything about Michael Jackson has ever or would ever surprise me. I had just mentioned the gloved one the same day he died. Quite possibly at the same moment, so I feel good that there may be some Karma in the world. More platitudes have been thrown out for someone so undeserving of them than there have been for anyone since Kurt Cobain. Because let's face the real facts--MJ was a Performer, he wasn't really a musician. I don't really think he wrote much of, if any of the songs credited to him. I just cannot believe that he had the sort of dedication, discipline or craftmanship to sit down for a couple of hours every day and write songs. Maybe I'll be proven wrong, maybe the scraps of his unfinished work and drafts of his better known compositions will surface. But I doubt it.
Denis Leary's latest book has a whole section that talks about child stars and how none of them ever end up being normal. And MJ was a Prime Example of his theory. Indulged and spoiled, allowed everything and told nothing, his excesses are legendary and his taste in everything was child-like and immature. I suppose no one ever told Mike that eventually the Peter Pan schtick gets old. Thousands of single mothers in this country have probably seen the realization of the Last Chapter of the classic story--Wendy gets tired of Pete never being able to hold a job and hanging out with his also unemployable buddies and puts him on the street. You have to grow up, at least a little bit, eventually.
I'm proud to say I hated MJ when he was at his peak, and always thought he was nothing more than video star. He did not have a substantial influence on music, and his stuff won't be held up as an example of excellence. Video production? that's a different story, but even then, he was the goose that laid the golden egg and he killed himeself. No one had the time, money or creativity to top the stuff MJ did, and the fact that you'd be hard pressed to find music videos these days is proof enough of that fact.
I'm a bit surprised that he didn't have himself embalmed and put on display forever. Like a pop music Chairman Mao, always there to be adored and gazed upon. Maybe he actually had a sliver of good taste after all.
Bad taste isn't really a vice that is limited to show business. Just ask Sarah Palin. I don't know if Sarah doesn't actually know she's tacky and low rent, or if she's just keeping up the facade for an ironic counterpoint to what everyone says about her. Actually, I'm pretty sure she just doesn't know any better. 99 Thousand and ninety nine other mothers out of 100,000 would sense that it probably isn't a wise idea to keep on blabbering about abstinence when your own daughter doesn't know how to handle the business end of a condom. At least she's in the top 1% of something...
But make no mistake, Sarah has cashed her final check as a political figure in this country. She was already something like a 3-1 shot to ever win another election in Alaska, and 20-1 to even make it through Super Tuesday 2012. Now that she has no safety net and can run around spouting off without impugnity, she'll find herself even more marginalized and pigeon-holed as a dangerous windbag and white trash panderer.
I was actually just warming up for another season of the Wasilla Hillbillies (OK, I need to get the rights to this reality concept NOW!). Who knows what could happen with those silly Palins? Shucks, there could be more birthin babies in the future.
She's soon going to find out that if you're trying to run for office and you don't have a steady government job already, you're going to have a lot of problems. Even being the governor of the Biggest Welfare State in the World might have gotten her something. But now she'll have to make due with being Hockey Mom and we'll see how that fund raising angle works for her.
Bad time to be a governor about now, especially a Republican one. Mark Sanford forgot at least 2 Commandments, and his cover story as well. When the deal came down, he held up under questioning about 10 seconds longer than a waterboarded Al-Quada operative would have. But he still thinks everything is OK, and that God still loves him. He'd better hope so, because I don't think his wife and kids are going to be much of a comfort to him in his dotage. He's gonna need the Lord and a Good Lawyer before it's all said and done. I'd bet you a one way ticket to Buenos Aires that he still thinks he might have a chance to be President someday.
Speaking of one way tickets, I think Arnold Schwartzanegger probably wishes he had one back to Graz about now. He is a lame duck governor of a basically bankrupt state. And I'd bet a lot of the people who voted for him initially would like a do-over. Arnie came on with the idea that he was going to do things different, but soon realized that there was no way he could get around a couple of the biggest roadblocks--the fact that the state is virtually tapped out because of the inability to raise money through property tax, and while people may like him personally, they were never going to elect enough people who were of a similar persuasion to the legislature to allow Arnie to Terminate the entire politcal agenda.
Swine of the Week Unleashed!
More Swine--All of the Time!
I've been a bit lazy with any sort of regularity for the Swine of the Week, but now that the 4th of July has come and gone, we could review some of the more interesting candidates that have emerged all at once in the month of June and the first full week of July.
Let's just start with all of the easy cheap shots first, just to warm things up a bit...
I can't say anything about Michael Jackson has ever or would ever surprise me. I had just mentioned the gloved one the same day he died. Quite possibly at the same moment, so I feel good that there may be some Karma in the world. More platitudes have been thrown out for someone so undeserving of them than there have been for anyone since Kurt Cobain. Because let's face the real facts--MJ was a Performer, he wasn't really a musician. I don't really think he wrote much of, if any of the songs credited to him. I just cannot believe that he had the sort of dedication, discipline or craftmanship to sit down for a couple of hours every day and write songs. Maybe I'll be proven wrong, maybe the scraps of his unfinished work and drafts of his better known compositions will surface. But I doubt it.
Denis Leary's latest book has a whole section that talks about child stars and how none of them ever end up being normal. And MJ was a Prime Example of his theory. Indulged and spoiled, allowed everything and told nothing, his excesses are legendary and his taste in everything was child-like and immature. I suppose no one ever told Mike that eventually the Peter Pan schtick gets old. Thousands of single mothers in this country have probably seen the realization of the Last Chapter of the classic story--Wendy gets tired of Pete never being able to hold a job and hanging out with his also unemployable buddies and puts him on the street. You have to grow up, at least a little bit, eventually.
I'm proud to say I hated MJ when he was at his peak, and always thought he was nothing more than video star. He did not have a substantial influence on music, and his stuff won't be held up as an example of excellence. Video production? that's a different story, but even then, he was the goose that laid the golden egg and he killed himeself. No one had the time, money or creativity to top the stuff MJ did, and the fact that you'd be hard pressed to find music videos these days is proof enough of that fact.
I'm a bit surprised that he didn't have himself embalmed and put on display forever. Like a pop music Chairman Mao, always there to be adored and gazed upon. Maybe he actually had a sliver of good taste after all.
Bad taste isn't really a vice that is limited to show business. Just ask Sarah Palin. I don't know if Sarah doesn't actually know she's tacky and low rent, or if she's just keeping up the facade for an ironic counterpoint to what everyone says about her. Actually, I'm pretty sure she just doesn't know any better. 99 Thousand and ninety nine other mothers out of 100,000 would sense that it probably isn't a wise idea to keep on blabbering about abstinence when your own daughter doesn't know how to handle the business end of a condom. At least she's in the top 1% of something...
But make no mistake, Sarah has cashed her final check as a political figure in this country. She was already something like a 3-1 shot to ever win another election in Alaska, and 20-1 to even make it through Super Tuesday 2012. Now that she has no safety net and can run around spouting off without impugnity, she'll find herself even more marginalized and pigeon-holed as a dangerous windbag and white trash panderer.
I was actually just warming up for another season of the Wasilla Hillbillies (OK, I need to get the rights to this reality concept NOW!). Who knows what could happen with those silly Palins? Shucks, there could be more birthin babies in the future.
She's soon going to find out that if you're trying to run for office and you don't have a steady government job already, you're going to have a lot of problems. Even being the governor of the Biggest Welfare State in the World might have gotten her something. But now she'll have to make due with being Hockey Mom and we'll see how that fund raising angle works for her.
Bad time to be a governor about now, especially a Republican one. Mark Sanford forgot at least 2 Commandments, and his cover story as well. When the deal came down, he held up under questioning about 10 seconds longer than a waterboarded Al-Quada operative would have. But he still thinks everything is OK, and that God still loves him. He'd better hope so, because I don't think his wife and kids are going to be much of a comfort to him in his dotage. He's gonna need the Lord and a Good Lawyer before it's all said and done. I'd bet you a one way ticket to Buenos Aires that he still thinks he might have a chance to be President someday.
Speaking of one way tickets, I think Arnold Schwartzanegger probably wishes he had one back to Graz about now. He is a lame duck governor of a basically bankrupt state. And I'd bet a lot of the people who voted for him initially would like a do-over. Arnie came on with the idea that he was going to do things different, but soon realized that there was no way he could get around a couple of the biggest roadblocks--the fact that the state is virtually tapped out because of the inability to raise money through property tax, and while people may like him personally, they were never going to elect enough people who were of a similar persuasion to the legislature to allow Arnie to Terminate the entire politcal agenda.
Bring out your dead (and other recipes)
( I dashed this one off in about 10 minutes after a conversation at work about blogging)
this one goes out to my friends at work, who wanted to know what blogging was...
I was contemplating the passing of two famous names, and how it all fits into the big scheme we call life.
You can't judge a book by looking at it's cover and you can't judge Bo Diddley by his persona that most younger people might recognize him by. Whether as the pool shark that George Thorogood takes to school in the video for "Bad to the Bone" or his turn as a pawn shop owner in the movie "Trading Places" who tells Dan Ackroyd that in Philadelphia his watch is is only worth $50, Diddley was miles away from the legend that made him.
I mean, how much of a total bad ass do you have to be to have no less than 4 songs with your own name in the title? And not have anyone think it's a bit self serving. The Diddley Daddy was a giant, let's get that clear now. He wrote songs that have been covered by countless number of acts through the years, and will probably stand the test of time. The simplicity of the basic melody of most of them, and the heartfelt blues they emoted are heads and shoulders above anything that you can hear from so called "muscians" today.
I didn't really have a huge appeciation of his work til more recently, in comparison to other legends of the blues whose work I got into at a younger age, but I can be sure that he is just as important to 20th century American music as anyone.
Jim McKay gave a lot of us of a certain age our first exposure to the magic of far away places on Wide World of Sports. You looked forward to Saturday afternoon to see what new sport you might be treated to. He provided us with the background on the people and places that he took us to, highlighting as he put it "the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat". The sheer majesty of the Hahnekam from Kitzbuhl, the cliff diving from Acapulco, Evel Knievel, Harlem Globetrotters from the four corners of the globe, the Monaco Grand Prix, McKay showed all of us who watched what it was like in places that were as far removed from our dreary small town existence as the Earth is from the Moon. He had a newspapermans' ear for the story behind the story and told it to us in a way that seemed articulate without being too over our heads.
Closer to home, I finally got relief from the heat as they came to put my air conditioning unit in the window today. I only just survived, but I expect I have earned some karmic points with the greater powers that be for my ability to adapt with good grace. I did not whine, or complain, even when I couldn't sleep for the rivers of sweat that pooled around me. In fact I didn't even notice how hot I was while I prepared my first lasagna yesterday, made in the microwave. Yes, it can be done, although I hesistate to say the experiment was a bit like the operation that is a complete success, yet the patient died. It was worth the experience, as I know how to correct the minimal mistakes I made should I feel like I want to do it again. I think I'll just stick the oven though...
res ipsa loquitar
this one goes out to my friends at work, who wanted to know what blogging was...
I was contemplating the passing of two famous names, and how it all fits into the big scheme we call life.
You can't judge a book by looking at it's cover and you can't judge Bo Diddley by his persona that most younger people might recognize him by. Whether as the pool shark that George Thorogood takes to school in the video for "Bad to the Bone" or his turn as a pawn shop owner in the movie "Trading Places" who tells Dan Ackroyd that in Philadelphia his watch is is only worth $50, Diddley was miles away from the legend that made him.
I mean, how much of a total bad ass do you have to be to have no less than 4 songs with your own name in the title? And not have anyone think it's a bit self serving. The Diddley Daddy was a giant, let's get that clear now. He wrote songs that have been covered by countless number of acts through the years, and will probably stand the test of time. The simplicity of the basic melody of most of them, and the heartfelt blues they emoted are heads and shoulders above anything that you can hear from so called "muscians" today.
I didn't really have a huge appeciation of his work til more recently, in comparison to other legends of the blues whose work I got into at a younger age, but I can be sure that he is just as important to 20th century American music as anyone.
Jim McKay gave a lot of us of a certain age our first exposure to the magic of far away places on Wide World of Sports. You looked forward to Saturday afternoon to see what new sport you might be treated to. He provided us with the background on the people and places that he took us to, highlighting as he put it "the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat". The sheer majesty of the Hahnekam from Kitzbuhl, the cliff diving from Acapulco, Evel Knievel, Harlem Globetrotters from the four corners of the globe, the Monaco Grand Prix, McKay showed all of us who watched what it was like in places that were as far removed from our dreary small town existence as the Earth is from the Moon. He had a newspapermans' ear for the story behind the story and told it to us in a way that seemed articulate without being too over our heads.
Closer to home, I finally got relief from the heat as they came to put my air conditioning unit in the window today. I only just survived, but I expect I have earned some karmic points with the greater powers that be for my ability to adapt with good grace. I did not whine, or complain, even when I couldn't sleep for the rivers of sweat that pooled around me. In fact I didn't even notice how hot I was while I prepared my first lasagna yesterday, made in the microwave. Yes, it can be done, although I hesistate to say the experiment was a bit like the operation that is a complete success, yet the patient died. It was worth the experience, as I know how to correct the minimal mistakes I made should I feel like I want to do it again. I think I'll just stick the oven though...
res ipsa loquitar
The End of the Beginning
(I wrote this on election night 2008, I thought it was as good a piece of political commentary as anyone on TV was providing that night, also a bit of homage to Hunter S Thompson)
Rumblings in the Heartland:a call for change...Fear and Loathing in Phoenix...The Banshee screams for the GOP...McCain's final bad beat in the poker game of politics...The final death throes of Idiot America...and more importantly--Now what?
At the end of the day, they count up the votes and may the best man win. That's a saying as old as politics itself. Maybe as old as John McCain looked last night at 11:30 when he finally gave up in the last election of his career. The irony that he spent the hours leading up to his defeat in the Barry Goldwater Suite at the Arizona Biltmore weren't lost on many veteran political watchers. It was almost like Mr Conservative himself was present in the room, still hanging on to hope that Extremism in the Defense of Liberty is No Vice. But knowing in his heart that it may not be a Vice, but it doesn't fall under the category of Virtue either.
And make no mistake, Virtue is not John McCain's strong suit. His resume of virtues lacks a lot of important qualities--fidelity, charm and grace among three I can think of off the top of my head.
He'll go to his grave wondering if he'd only not let himself be talked into having that Redneck Shrew on his ticket, he might have had a fighting chance. Or if he hadn't been wondering about which Plebe he was going to haze, instead of paying attention in Macro-Economics class at Annapolis.
Sometimes you get the Bear, and sometimes the Bear mauls you into an unrecognizable mass of flesh. And that pretty much sums up the Election of '08. Books will be written about the colossal sea-change in the landscape of American voting patterns in the years to come, but at the end of time, it will still come down to the fact that a lot of people under the age of 30 weren't ready to have their Grandpa define the next 4 years of their life.
Veterans Day will mark the 90th anniversary of the end of The War to End All Wars, as the old-timers liked to call World War 1, and at times it seemed like McCain was playing a strategy pulled straight out of that war in the conduct of his campaign. Trench Warfare, Chemical warfare and full-on mass frontal assaults on a well entrenched enemy all have frightening parallels to this Election year.
Barack Obama's arrival into the fray was a lot like Black Jack Pershing's arrival in France with the American Expeditionary Force, declaring "Lafayette, we are here". It turned that war in the favor of the Allies in the same way that Obama's groundswell of grass roots organizing did, forging impressionable young people into a crack political unit that turned over the Old Guard.
McCain's tunnel vision in his quest for the Presidency has almost guaranteed that "his" people won't be in control of the GOP for much longer. Much like Goldwater's loss led to a top down purge of the party in the 60's, I suspect that this loss will force a serious re-appraisal of what direction the Republicans will take as a minority party. The fact that incumbent Republican Senators were trying to get on the right side of Obama voters in the last weeks of the campaign does not bode well for McCains continued leadership of the Party.
As for Obama, what will his term bring for us? I couldn't say. I hope that we begin to repair some of the horrible mistrust that average Americans have for all of the instruments of government--how we have abandoned ideas that are the foundation of our way of life. I hope he can reverse the erosion of civil liberties and Rule of Law. I hope he can break the Siege Mentality of the bureaucracy that President Skippy has cultivated for 7 years.
I'd have voted for Slobadan Milosevic, Robert Mugabe, or anyone else who would've said that they would do the opposite of everything that our Child-President has accomplished or not accomplished in the last 8 years. In the end, McCain never came out and said any such thing, as he was never going to do anything of the sort. How could he? You can't make chicken salad out of chicken sh^t.
Selah
Rumblings in the Heartland:a call for change...Fear and Loathing in Phoenix...The Banshee screams for the GOP...McCain's final bad beat in the poker game of politics...The final death throes of Idiot America...and more importantly--Now what?
At the end of the day, they count up the votes and may the best man win. That's a saying as old as politics itself. Maybe as old as John McCain looked last night at 11:30 when he finally gave up in the last election of his career. The irony that he spent the hours leading up to his defeat in the Barry Goldwater Suite at the Arizona Biltmore weren't lost on many veteran political watchers. It was almost like Mr Conservative himself was present in the room, still hanging on to hope that Extremism in the Defense of Liberty is No Vice. But knowing in his heart that it may not be a Vice, but it doesn't fall under the category of Virtue either.
And make no mistake, Virtue is not John McCain's strong suit. His resume of virtues lacks a lot of important qualities--fidelity, charm and grace among three I can think of off the top of my head.
He'll go to his grave wondering if he'd only not let himself be talked into having that Redneck Shrew on his ticket, he might have had a fighting chance. Or if he hadn't been wondering about which Plebe he was going to haze, instead of paying attention in Macro-Economics class at Annapolis.
Sometimes you get the Bear, and sometimes the Bear mauls you into an unrecognizable mass of flesh. And that pretty much sums up the Election of '08. Books will be written about the colossal sea-change in the landscape of American voting patterns in the years to come, but at the end of time, it will still come down to the fact that a lot of people under the age of 30 weren't ready to have their Grandpa define the next 4 years of their life.
Veterans Day will mark the 90th anniversary of the end of The War to End All Wars, as the old-timers liked to call World War 1, and at times it seemed like McCain was playing a strategy pulled straight out of that war in the conduct of his campaign. Trench Warfare, Chemical warfare and full-on mass frontal assaults on a well entrenched enemy all have frightening parallels to this Election year.
Barack Obama's arrival into the fray was a lot like Black Jack Pershing's arrival in France with the American Expeditionary Force, declaring "Lafayette, we are here". It turned that war in the favor of the Allies in the same way that Obama's groundswell of grass roots organizing did, forging impressionable young people into a crack political unit that turned over the Old Guard.
McCain's tunnel vision in his quest for the Presidency has almost guaranteed that "his" people won't be in control of the GOP for much longer. Much like Goldwater's loss led to a top down purge of the party in the 60's, I suspect that this loss will force a serious re-appraisal of what direction the Republicans will take as a minority party. The fact that incumbent Republican Senators were trying to get on the right side of Obama voters in the last weeks of the campaign does not bode well for McCains continued leadership of the Party.
As for Obama, what will his term bring for us? I couldn't say. I hope that we begin to repair some of the horrible mistrust that average Americans have for all of the instruments of government--how we have abandoned ideas that are the foundation of our way of life. I hope he can reverse the erosion of civil liberties and Rule of Law. I hope he can break the Siege Mentality of the bureaucracy that President Skippy has cultivated for 7 years.
I'd have voted for Slobadan Milosevic, Robert Mugabe, or anyone else who would've said that they would do the opposite of everything that our Child-President has accomplished or not accomplished in the last 8 years. In the end, McCain never came out and said any such thing, as he was never going to do anything of the sort. How could he? You can't make chicken salad out of chicken sh^t.
Selah
Motivational Speaking
(yet another exercise in self-loathing, but not too bad)
and now a bit of free form thinking, coupled with a bit of amateur self-analysis, just to get the rust off.
I came across a revelation about myself, well...let's say I confirmed what I already suspected. I'm sure I'm not alone in this situation. In fact it's pretty much a confirmed fact, people are so very easy to figure out. But I digress...I am a better person when I am pushed, prodded, manipulated or threatened by someone. I need reinforcement to behave in a manner which is acceptable.
In my experience, when left to provide my own self-motivation, I usually do fine for awhile but then I taper off. I get lazy, especially when results don't seem to show any improvement. But when I am further motivated by someone else, I adapt to the situation and continue on an upward trend.
This is normal, but it is not always helpful. Motivation is basically a way to achieve a result. It comes in many shapes and sizes. When someone elses' motivation is more powerful than your own, it hampers your ability to function normally.
I've had quite a few jobs in my life, and most of them have ended under circumstances that were not of my own choosing. I've adapted a philosophy that you are just waiting for the day you are going to be fired from the time that you begin a job. So you make the most of it, and maximize your ability and your opportunity.
It's important to point out that every place I've ever worked, save one, is no longer in business. They all went under after my departure; not the next day, or the next year, but they all went bust. When you discover the idea that when a lot of my self-motivation had run its' course, my departure was soon imminent, you see a logical progression to those places failing eventually. They failed to motivate me, so you have to conclude that they were faulty in the man-management aspect of running a business.
I take a perverse pride in the fact that those places are no longer around. It feeds a part of my ego that makes me believe in my own self-importance. But it also can be a trap that lulls you into a sense of infallibility. I've seen, in hindsight, all of the things that I could've changed or ways that the situation could have ended up differently. And I have adapted those things to change the way I approach my dealings with people in my subsequent jobs. I was never fired for the quality or quantity of my work, it was always about how I dealt with people. OK, that's not 100% true--there were a couple of extenuating circumstances--but for the most part, if I had treated people differently, I would've survived. But, a lot of those things were dependent upon motivation. I was either forced into behaving in certain ways, or I was ignored in my pleas for external motivation.
In a larger way, this is a problem I have in all of my life. I crave reinforcement, feedback, or progress. I need tangible proof that what I'm doing is right or wrong. But I am severely lacking in this department. I tend to not get the sorts of answers I need, so I become paralyzed by uncertainty. And then I behave in ways that don't always end well.
A wise man once told me that Timing is Everything. And sometimes I find that to be true, because I have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or the wrong place at the right time. But I find I'm rarely ever in the right place at the right time, in the right frame of mind. And it sometimes hurts--me, my friends, my family.
But it's not my fault, I'm only human.
Selah
and now a bit of free form thinking, coupled with a bit of amateur self-analysis, just to get the rust off.
I came across a revelation about myself, well...let's say I confirmed what I already suspected. I'm sure I'm not alone in this situation. In fact it's pretty much a confirmed fact, people are so very easy to figure out. But I digress...I am a better person when I am pushed, prodded, manipulated or threatened by someone. I need reinforcement to behave in a manner which is acceptable.
In my experience, when left to provide my own self-motivation, I usually do fine for awhile but then I taper off. I get lazy, especially when results don't seem to show any improvement. But when I am further motivated by someone else, I adapt to the situation and continue on an upward trend.
This is normal, but it is not always helpful. Motivation is basically a way to achieve a result. It comes in many shapes and sizes. When someone elses' motivation is more powerful than your own, it hampers your ability to function normally.
I've had quite a few jobs in my life, and most of them have ended under circumstances that were not of my own choosing. I've adapted a philosophy that you are just waiting for the day you are going to be fired from the time that you begin a job. So you make the most of it, and maximize your ability and your opportunity.
It's important to point out that every place I've ever worked, save one, is no longer in business. They all went under after my departure; not the next day, or the next year, but they all went bust. When you discover the idea that when a lot of my self-motivation had run its' course, my departure was soon imminent, you see a logical progression to those places failing eventually. They failed to motivate me, so you have to conclude that they were faulty in the man-management aspect of running a business.
I take a perverse pride in the fact that those places are no longer around. It feeds a part of my ego that makes me believe in my own self-importance. But it also can be a trap that lulls you into a sense of infallibility. I've seen, in hindsight, all of the things that I could've changed or ways that the situation could have ended up differently. And I have adapted those things to change the way I approach my dealings with people in my subsequent jobs. I was never fired for the quality or quantity of my work, it was always about how I dealt with people. OK, that's not 100% true--there were a couple of extenuating circumstances--but for the most part, if I had treated people differently, I would've survived. But, a lot of those things were dependent upon motivation. I was either forced into behaving in certain ways, or I was ignored in my pleas for external motivation.
In a larger way, this is a problem I have in all of my life. I crave reinforcement, feedback, or progress. I need tangible proof that what I'm doing is right or wrong. But I am severely lacking in this department. I tend to not get the sorts of answers I need, so I become paralyzed by uncertainty. And then I behave in ways that don't always end well.
A wise man once told me that Timing is Everything. And sometimes I find that to be true, because I have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or the wrong place at the right time. But I find I'm rarely ever in the right place at the right time, in the right frame of mind. And it sometimes hurts--me, my friends, my family.
But it's not my fault, I'm only human.
Selah
Funeral for a Friend
(I cried at the end of re-reading this, probably as much as I cried when I wrote it. I can't believe it's been 10 years since she's been gone. It seems like yesterday. I hope someone will write something about me this heartfelt when I'm gone. And it just dawned on me that she would have had another birthday a couple of weeks ago. Happy Birthday Ser)
(originally written–fall 1999)
I should've have suspected something was amiss. Somehow, the world hasn't been quite the same place that it used to be.
Serena McDaniels is no longer among us, and we are all worse off for it.
If you knew Ser (and who "really" knew her anyway?) you had to be on your toes, because she was a full load to handle, with her dry humor and quick wit. She was a unique person in every sense of the word, and there will never be another like her. Which is both good and bad, because while I could never stomach a pale imitation, I already miss the original
If every person who knew her from online pooled what they knew about her, we might come up with half of the story of her all too brief life. Maybe. She was a grade A enigma. I never quite knew what to believe of the things she told me about herself, but I never seemed to think any of it wasn't true, either.
We have to hand it to her, she kept us in the dark about a lot of things concerning her real life. Even her passing was a secret until it was uncovered just recently. You would almost think she didn't want anyone to be bothered, but you know deep down it's not a bother to remember her as a friend who could bring a ray of sunshine to a dismal day.
She had a special quality about her, if you could make sense of her whims. I know when I first became acquainted with her, I didn't really know how to take her. She was truly the kind of person who grew on you as time went by. I think in my case, she became increasingly aware of the fact that I was always able to pick up on little things about her from things she said, or others said about her to get an amazingly accurate picture of her. Maybe she figured I was someone who was worth knowing better.
I cannot in honesty say that I knew her any better or worse than anyone else. We were both amazed when we learned that we shared a common interest in Hunter S. Thompson, and as such, she always got all the little Thompson-esque references I threw out in conversation. I loved her for that.
But that wasn't the only thing I loved her for. Oh no. I'm not ashamed to profess a great love for Serena, as a warm, caring friend. I wish deeply that I made clear to her while she lived of how much she meant to me. We always hope that people we care about know how much they mean to us, especially if we don't come out and say it in so many words. But I think she knew; at least in things she wrote to me over time she at least intimated that she knew. I can carry that with me.
As far as one can appreciate a friend one has never met face to face, whose sole existence came as words on a screen or on a piece of paper, she was a dear, beloved friend. Someone whose life and joys and troubles I shared, and cared about, as much as any physical real life friend.
I will not make a martyr of Serena McDaniels, tell you she was God's perfect creature. I can't do so with an honest face. She was flawed like all of us. I could not have counted her as a friend if I thought she was perfect, because that would have made her into something unrealistic and phony, and if anything else you can say about Ser, she wasn't a phony. You got her in all her wonderful, unpretentious glory, at all times. If you didn't like it, too bad for you.
She left us wanting more from her, and yet we will never get the true measure of her considerable talents. But we should remember her for what she gave to us, unconditionally and without expectation of something in return. She gave us chaos in a world begging for order, and laughter in a world which seems to adore melancholy. Please keep her spirit in a place in your heart, so that her untimely death will not have been in vain. We owe it to her, though she would never ask it. It's the least we can do for her.
So long Serena. I'll never forget you.
(originally written–fall 1999)
I should've have suspected something was amiss. Somehow, the world hasn't been quite the same place that it used to be.
Serena McDaniels is no longer among us, and we are all worse off for it.
If you knew Ser (and who "really" knew her anyway?) you had to be on your toes, because she was a full load to handle, with her dry humor and quick wit. She was a unique person in every sense of the word, and there will never be another like her. Which is both good and bad, because while I could never stomach a pale imitation, I already miss the original
If every person who knew her from online pooled what they knew about her, we might come up with half of the story of her all too brief life. Maybe. She was a grade A enigma. I never quite knew what to believe of the things she told me about herself, but I never seemed to think any of it wasn't true, either.
We have to hand it to her, she kept us in the dark about a lot of things concerning her real life. Even her passing was a secret until it was uncovered just recently. You would almost think she didn't want anyone to be bothered, but you know deep down it's not a bother to remember her as a friend who could bring a ray of sunshine to a dismal day.
She had a special quality about her, if you could make sense of her whims. I know when I first became acquainted with her, I didn't really know how to take her. She was truly the kind of person who grew on you as time went by. I think in my case, she became increasingly aware of the fact that I was always able to pick up on little things about her from things she said, or others said about her to get an amazingly accurate picture of her. Maybe she figured I was someone who was worth knowing better.
I cannot in honesty say that I knew her any better or worse than anyone else. We were both amazed when we learned that we shared a common interest in Hunter S. Thompson, and as such, she always got all the little Thompson-esque references I threw out in conversation. I loved her for that.
But that wasn't the only thing I loved her for. Oh no. I'm not ashamed to profess a great love for Serena, as a warm, caring friend. I wish deeply that I made clear to her while she lived of how much she meant to me. We always hope that people we care about know how much they mean to us, especially if we don't come out and say it in so many words. But I think she knew; at least in things she wrote to me over time she at least intimated that she knew. I can carry that with me.
As far as one can appreciate a friend one has never met face to face, whose sole existence came as words on a screen or on a piece of paper, she was a dear, beloved friend. Someone whose life and joys and troubles I shared, and cared about, as much as any physical real life friend.
I will not make a martyr of Serena McDaniels, tell you she was God's perfect creature. I can't do so with an honest face. She was flawed like all of us. I could not have counted her as a friend if I thought she was perfect, because that would have made her into something unrealistic and phony, and if anything else you can say about Ser, she wasn't a phony. You got her in all her wonderful, unpretentious glory, at all times. If you didn't like it, too bad for you.
She left us wanting more from her, and yet we will never get the true measure of her considerable talents. But we should remember her for what she gave to us, unconditionally and without expectation of something in return. She gave us chaos in a world begging for order, and laughter in a world which seems to adore melancholy. Please keep her spirit in a place in your heart, so that her untimely death will not have been in vain. We owe it to her, though she would never ask it. It's the least we can do for her.
So long Serena. I'll never forget you.
The "Wow" Factor
(another self-reflection piece I did after another night of too much thinking about my current state of life. from 2007)
with all of the time
in the world
to spend it
wild and unwise
I wanna be
mesmerizing too
I've come to the conclusion--well, not just now, I think I've known it for some time--that I lack a certain something I like to call the "wow" factor. I'm sure you know what I mean--that thing you notice in people, or other inanimate objects that catches your attention right away. I'm not sure it's something you can just pick up, I tend to think it's something you either have or you don't. And I think they shorted me on it when I was born.
If you've read my profile, you'll see that I've described myself as the world's worst first impression maker. I either come off as too reserved and shy or too over the top and forward. And it's always at the wrong time with the wrong person. Where I need one I produce the other, and vice versa. Maybe I have a hard time judging which approach works best, or maybe I get frustrated when one try doesn't work out so I fall back to the other as safety net. I don't know. If I did, I wouldn't be writing this now would I?
I had to cop a nasty attitude on someone this weekend because of this inherent weakness, and it made me feel bad about myself, and not surprisingly, it gave me a bit of a thrill at the same time. I didn't have to do it really, I could've just left things as they were and moved on with my life as it was at that moment. But my lack of "wow" forced me into selfish damage control. And the thing was, I don't know whether it actually accomplished what I wanted, in spite of getting a reaction I was hoping for. Only time will tell, although I really couldn't care less if I ever find out.
Well meaning people console me about my despondency in the relationship department. They tell me I'm a "great guy" (which I tend to think is a code for something else). They give me the usual advice that everyone hears--you'll find someone, don't worry about it, don't try so hard. But I am leaning towards the idea that the "wow" I don't have is an overwhelming factor in my present state.
I'm just so worn down by being average, marginal, not up to the required standard, unremarkable, and plain old vanilla. I have to concur with John Lee Hooker--I'll never get out these blues alive.
Selah
with all of the time
in the world
to spend it
wild and unwise
I wanna be
mesmerizing too
I've come to the conclusion--well, not just now, I think I've known it for some time--that I lack a certain something I like to call the "wow" factor. I'm sure you know what I mean--that thing you notice in people, or other inanimate objects that catches your attention right away. I'm not sure it's something you can just pick up, I tend to think it's something you either have or you don't. And I think they shorted me on it when I was born.
If you've read my profile, you'll see that I've described myself as the world's worst first impression maker. I either come off as too reserved and shy or too over the top and forward. And it's always at the wrong time with the wrong person. Where I need one I produce the other, and vice versa. Maybe I have a hard time judging which approach works best, or maybe I get frustrated when one try doesn't work out so I fall back to the other as safety net. I don't know. If I did, I wouldn't be writing this now would I?
I had to cop a nasty attitude on someone this weekend because of this inherent weakness, and it made me feel bad about myself, and not surprisingly, it gave me a bit of a thrill at the same time. I didn't have to do it really, I could've just left things as they were and moved on with my life as it was at that moment. But my lack of "wow" forced me into selfish damage control. And the thing was, I don't know whether it actually accomplished what I wanted, in spite of getting a reaction I was hoping for. Only time will tell, although I really couldn't care less if I ever find out.
Well meaning people console me about my despondency in the relationship department. They tell me I'm a "great guy" (which I tend to think is a code for something else). They give me the usual advice that everyone hears--you'll find someone, don't worry about it, don't try so hard. But I am leaning towards the idea that the "wow" I don't have is an overwhelming factor in my present state.
I'm just so worn down by being average, marginal, not up to the required standard, unremarkable, and plain old vanilla. I have to concur with John Lee Hooker--I'll never get out these blues alive.
Selah
A few words about my grandmother
I wrote this after my grandmother died in 2008, I guess I felt like I needed to say something about her I've always known
It was different, that's the first thing I can say with certainty.
Being at my grandmother's house without her there made for a very interesting experience. It was much less stressful and definitely less predictable from a routine standpoint.
My grandmother, Miriam Bower, died on Sunday, January 6. She was 3 months shy of her 90th birthday. I got the call on Monday while I was at work, and not surprisingly, I was stunned. Originally it was thought that she fell down the steps leading to her basement, but the coroner's opinion was that she suffered a heart attack before that.
The people of her community who knew her were also, not surprisingly, stunned as well. I lost count of how many said to me that they had just seen her in church earlier on the day she died. Just like I lost count of the people who told me that they played cards with her. She loved playing card games. And she was pretty good at it too.
Except for a brief period, my grandmother never lived more than 5 miles from the house she grew up in Niagara County, New York. It was where she called home, and she was as much a part of it, in my mind, as the Falls themselves.
I wouldn't say that I was particularly close to her, owing to the above point and the fact we only saw her a couple of times a year. We were a lot alike in our personalities, a fact that is probably evident to those who put stock in astrology, seeing as we had birthdays one day apart. We just seemed to have a "personality clash". Not that I'm proud of that, but I think it explains something about me. I was her only grandson, so it makes me a bit guilty to have to admit the part about not feeling close. Maybe I was closer to her than I want to admit to myself.
But it doesn't change my love for her, or my admiration of her spirit and good nature. She was one of the most selfless people I've ever known, and never met someone who was a stranger for very long.
People who recalled their memories of her to our family struck the same themes, time and again throughout the week–she was very committed to her faith, she loved organizing games, and get-togethers with family. She was patriotic and appreciative of history. She was thoughtful in so many ways, and inquisitive as to goings-on in town and with family near and far.
She was a product of her environment and the time that she grew up in–she never wasted anything and saved everything she thought could be of use at some point in the future. The amount of accumulated stuff in her house was just mind-blowing when you had to confront it to decide what to keep and what to throw out.
Her loss leaves us, her family, a bit lonelier. Yet knowing that she didn't have to go through the final years of her life in some state which would have impeded her independence, a bit relieved as well. She was a bit stubborn when it came to things where she didn't have control. She would never consider leaving her home and living somewhere that required less work to maintain.
She's left us here, but she's gone somewhere she knew all along in her heart she was destined to be. If they play cards in heaven, she'll already have gotten a game going, I'm sure.
It was different, that's the first thing I can say with certainty.
Being at my grandmother's house without her there made for a very interesting experience. It was much less stressful and definitely less predictable from a routine standpoint.
My grandmother, Miriam Bower, died on Sunday, January 6. She was 3 months shy of her 90th birthday. I got the call on Monday while I was at work, and not surprisingly, I was stunned. Originally it was thought that she fell down the steps leading to her basement, but the coroner's opinion was that she suffered a heart attack before that.
The people of her community who knew her were also, not surprisingly, stunned as well. I lost count of how many said to me that they had just seen her in church earlier on the day she died. Just like I lost count of the people who told me that they played cards with her. She loved playing card games. And she was pretty good at it too.
Except for a brief period, my grandmother never lived more than 5 miles from the house she grew up in Niagara County, New York. It was where she called home, and she was as much a part of it, in my mind, as the Falls themselves.
I wouldn't say that I was particularly close to her, owing to the above point and the fact we only saw her a couple of times a year. We were a lot alike in our personalities, a fact that is probably evident to those who put stock in astrology, seeing as we had birthdays one day apart. We just seemed to have a "personality clash". Not that I'm proud of that, but I think it explains something about me. I was her only grandson, so it makes me a bit guilty to have to admit the part about not feeling close. Maybe I was closer to her than I want to admit to myself.
But it doesn't change my love for her, or my admiration of her spirit and good nature. She was one of the most selfless people I've ever known, and never met someone who was a stranger for very long.
People who recalled their memories of her to our family struck the same themes, time and again throughout the week–she was very committed to her faith, she loved organizing games, and get-togethers with family. She was patriotic and appreciative of history. She was thoughtful in so many ways, and inquisitive as to goings-on in town and with family near and far.
She was a product of her environment and the time that she grew up in–she never wasted anything and saved everything she thought could be of use at some point in the future. The amount of accumulated stuff in her house was just mind-blowing when you had to confront it to decide what to keep and what to throw out.
Her loss leaves us, her family, a bit lonelier. Yet knowing that she didn't have to go through the final years of her life in some state which would have impeded her independence, a bit relieved as well. She was a bit stubborn when it came to things where she didn't have control. She would never consider leaving her home and living somewhere that required less work to maintain.
She's left us here, but she's gone somewhere she knew all along in her heart she was destined to be. If they play cards in heaven, she'll already have gotten a game going, I'm sure.
His naked ears were tortured, by the sirens sweetly singing...
this is one from a couple of years ago, I like the way it flows
Life sucks, and then you die.
This news flash brought to you courtesy of yours truly, by way of some seriously fine Tanqueray Rangpur and a couple of tabs of Aleve, and midwifed by Margo Timmons' siren song of loneliness and despair.
You're welcome. Come back soon.
Oh wait, I had something to say that wasn't the thought I want to find a sharp pointed utensil and jab it underneath my eyelid.
I'm gonna let that stand there for a minute, just to see if that's what I was trying to convey to the 3 people who might read this...
No, it had to be something more substantial. Margo's sweet voice can do that to you if you're feeling marginalized and a bit unsure about your destiny. The comparison to the sirens of Greek Literature is completely on purpose. Their job was to steer unsuspecting sailors to their horrid death on the rocks, and Margo can drive you to the bottle, the needle or something worse if you feel like you need that push towards the dreamy afterlife when all is without hope.
But I digress...this is not about despair at all. Because she can also give you a fair bit of perspective on the little victories that qualify as the good things in life, too.
I finally this week have gotten a chance to actually do some proper cooking in my kitchen again, after being denied the pleasure for the last 2 weeks because of a massive reconstruction of the ceiling. You don't quite realize how much cooking means to me, as someone who gets very little pleasure from things that most people take for granted. A long time ago, I swore that cooking good food was going to be something I would do for myself, and learning about it was going to be the thing that carried me through the times where I felt no one else gave a damn if a decent risotto was really possible.
Or whether I had a snowball's chance in hell of getting Lindsay Lohan's phone number on my cell for that matter.
No matter what I encounter that brings me down, whether it's a heartbreaking loss by my favorite team, the huge disappointment of seeing a Ferrari not winning the latest Grand Prix or a stark reality that the swollen gland on my jawline might be the next phase of my limited mortality, I can always be sure that something made by my own hands at a stove will bring me a few minutes of respite.
So the idea that I could finally turn to something at dinner that didn't involve using the microwave should be a welcome change. And I would have to say, after a lot of selfish recriminations that got in the way the last week, it did make the fine meal I had tonight (and the other ones this week) better than I could've hoped.
So I live to suffer another day, full with a good meal and some even better mood altering substances. I don't think about the day's bad news, or the reality of my possible descent into the realm of the diseased. There's always another thing to cook tomorrow.
Sometimes life sucks, but in between, you don't have to worry about the dying part. It'll come in time. I guess Margo has served me well, and now she can resume her place in the collection next til the next time I need reassurance that someone else is worse off than me.
Selah
Life sucks, and then you die.
This news flash brought to you courtesy of yours truly, by way of some seriously fine Tanqueray Rangpur and a couple of tabs of Aleve, and midwifed by Margo Timmons' siren song of loneliness and despair.
You're welcome. Come back soon.
Oh wait, I had something to say that wasn't the thought I want to find a sharp pointed utensil and jab it underneath my eyelid.
I'm gonna let that stand there for a minute, just to see if that's what I was trying to convey to the 3 people who might read this...
No, it had to be something more substantial. Margo's sweet voice can do that to you if you're feeling marginalized and a bit unsure about your destiny. The comparison to the sirens of Greek Literature is completely on purpose. Their job was to steer unsuspecting sailors to their horrid death on the rocks, and Margo can drive you to the bottle, the needle or something worse if you feel like you need that push towards the dreamy afterlife when all is without hope.
But I digress...this is not about despair at all. Because she can also give you a fair bit of perspective on the little victories that qualify as the good things in life, too.
I finally this week have gotten a chance to actually do some proper cooking in my kitchen again, after being denied the pleasure for the last 2 weeks because of a massive reconstruction of the ceiling. You don't quite realize how much cooking means to me, as someone who gets very little pleasure from things that most people take for granted. A long time ago, I swore that cooking good food was going to be something I would do for myself, and learning about it was going to be the thing that carried me through the times where I felt no one else gave a damn if a decent risotto was really possible.
Or whether I had a snowball's chance in hell of getting Lindsay Lohan's phone number on my cell for that matter.
No matter what I encounter that brings me down, whether it's a heartbreaking loss by my favorite team, the huge disappointment of seeing a Ferrari not winning the latest Grand Prix or a stark reality that the swollen gland on my jawline might be the next phase of my limited mortality, I can always be sure that something made by my own hands at a stove will bring me a few minutes of respite.
So the idea that I could finally turn to something at dinner that didn't involve using the microwave should be a welcome change. And I would have to say, after a lot of selfish recriminations that got in the way the last week, it did make the fine meal I had tonight (and the other ones this week) better than I could've hoped.
So I live to suffer another day, full with a good meal and some even better mood altering substances. I don't think about the day's bad news, or the reality of my possible descent into the realm of the diseased. There's always another thing to cook tomorrow.
Sometimes life sucks, but in between, you don't have to worry about the dying part. It'll come in time. I guess Margo has served me well, and now she can resume her place in the collection next til the next time I need reassurance that someone else is worse off than me.
Selah
9/29/2009
A Picture is Worth...
I wrote this earlier in the year, inspired by a bit of melancholy I usually have around my birthday:
Sentimentality compells me to put down a few words on the occasion of the anniversary of my birth, and I pretty sure that I can weave something together that fits the occasion.
I was fascinated by reading one of those astrological birth charts on myself, I found one on a website where you enter your info and it gives you the interpretation. Now if you are sceptical in any way about astology, you'll think that this was a big waste of time. But the really frightening thing is how much it really hit the target. I even cross checked it against a couple of random people who I know, and theirs were just as accurate. There's always a couple of things that you think "really? Never imagined myself as that". But it's enough to make a cynic think twice.
Sentimentality was one of the traits it mentioned--"very sentimental. easily moved. Melancholic, romantic" However, the weakness of this was "risky and confused loves. insane hopes". So I'd say pretty close to accurate.
Which of course is a perfect segue, because part of my sentimentality (or my melancholy, it could be argued) revolves around insane hopes. I came across some pictures recently--in two cases they were remnants of things in the past, the third was a harsh reminder of a huge disappointment. And yet, further examination has re-shaped the original thoughts I had when I first saw each of them.
The first picture is a reminder of where I am at this minute, and how I got here in sort of a roundabout way. It is a portrait of optimism, and a memoir of resentment at the same time. But it probably deserves a place in the trash can, because it was just a product of insane hopes.
The second was a reminder of how I distort certain realities and let wishful thinking go amok. A subsequent viewing of a different, more recent photo of the subject brought me to a realization that sometimes it's not a bad thing when you don't get what you hope for.
The third shot is one probably the one that bothers me the least, but has a very significant lesson in being at the right place at the right time. Or maybe it's the idea that I hesitate when I should be decisive, but the message is one I've already come to grips with.
I needed the experiences reflected in those 3 photos, I needed the lesssons learned from each one. I don't know if I'd be the same person without each of them, as much as they have forced me to examine myself in great depth. I don't know if I'm a better person, but I'm certainly more aware of my insecurities and doubts.
Selah
Sentimentality compells me to put down a few words on the occasion of the anniversary of my birth, and I pretty sure that I can weave something together that fits the occasion.
I was fascinated by reading one of those astrological birth charts on myself, I found one on a website where you enter your info and it gives you the interpretation. Now if you are sceptical in any way about astology, you'll think that this was a big waste of time. But the really frightening thing is how much it really hit the target. I even cross checked it against a couple of random people who I know, and theirs were just as accurate. There's always a couple of things that you think "really? Never imagined myself as that". But it's enough to make a cynic think twice.
Sentimentality was one of the traits it mentioned--"very sentimental. easily moved. Melancholic, romantic" However, the weakness of this was "risky and confused loves. insane hopes". So I'd say pretty close to accurate.
Which of course is a perfect segue, because part of my sentimentality (or my melancholy, it could be argued) revolves around insane hopes. I came across some pictures recently--in two cases they were remnants of things in the past, the third was a harsh reminder of a huge disappointment. And yet, further examination has re-shaped the original thoughts I had when I first saw each of them.
The first picture is a reminder of where I am at this minute, and how I got here in sort of a roundabout way. It is a portrait of optimism, and a memoir of resentment at the same time. But it probably deserves a place in the trash can, because it was just a product of insane hopes.
The second was a reminder of how I distort certain realities and let wishful thinking go amok. A subsequent viewing of a different, more recent photo of the subject brought me to a realization that sometimes it's not a bad thing when you don't get what you hope for.
The third shot is one probably the one that bothers me the least, but has a very significant lesson in being at the right place at the right time. Or maybe it's the idea that I hesitate when I should be decisive, but the message is one I've already come to grips with.
I needed the experiences reflected in those 3 photos, I needed the lesssons learned from each one. I don't know if I'd be the same person without each of them, as much as they have forced me to examine myself in great depth. I don't know if I'm a better person, but I'm certainly more aware of my insecurities and doubts.
Selah
Standing on the Verge of Getting it on
well, here we go again. I always wonder what drives me to start thinking I am going to do this blog thing properly. I always seem to think I am going to be dilligent and topical, and then after awhile I always get lazy and it fades away.
But for this new installment of the Brian Baker Blog, I decided to get more upscale, hence the move to this site. I also decided to come up with a different name, seeing as how I have an "Orgy of the Dumb" blog at both MySpace and Newsvine. It took a lot of thinking, but I glanced at a book on one of my shelves called The View from Nowhere, which is about one man's journey to find the perfect "Bar bar". So I figured it would be just as good as any other name, so here you are. I don't necessarily think I am someplace that is Nowhere, or that I have some great view from it, but it seems like a good enough theme to cover my various ideas and interests.
There is an amazing level of thought on my part that goes into what I write. I usually have things I want to say something about, that I think about in some detail, and how I feel about it. I often have a reason to get a certain element to come about that ends up sounding great in my head, but doesn't always come across on page as so fantastic.
I once was given an assignment to write a recap of the proceedings of an event for an online periodical. I attended, I gathered info and I sat down and wrote the thing. I don't do "drafts", I write something, look at it, change it around and I finish. Rarely do I ever go back and revise or edit. I'm self-editing as I go. But for some reason still unknown to me, it was never published. Maybe the woman who was the editor thought I was going to go back and change it or make some revelation later that I hadn't gotten to the first time. But without her feedback, I never knew what it was she was looking for. So I left it as is. I don't operate "by the book", never have. I learn the book and then I adapt my own interpretation. I make my own rules and then I break them. That's what a Professional does.
And that's what you should expect when you read things I write here.
I think I'll lead off with some stuff I've done in the not so distant past, just to get a bit of variety going. In most cases, what you see is what I wrote at the time, except for instances where I changed something due to the fact it was relevant then, not so much now.
So read on, and tell me what you think about what I think.
Res Ipsa Locquitor
But for this new installment of the Brian Baker Blog, I decided to get more upscale, hence the move to this site. I also decided to come up with a different name, seeing as how I have an "Orgy of the Dumb" blog at both MySpace and Newsvine. It took a lot of thinking, but I glanced at a book on one of my shelves called The View from Nowhere, which is about one man's journey to find the perfect "Bar bar". So I figured it would be just as good as any other name, so here you are. I don't necessarily think I am someplace that is Nowhere, or that I have some great view from it, but it seems like a good enough theme to cover my various ideas and interests.
There is an amazing level of thought on my part that goes into what I write. I usually have things I want to say something about, that I think about in some detail, and how I feel about it. I often have a reason to get a certain element to come about that ends up sounding great in my head, but doesn't always come across on page as so fantastic.
I once was given an assignment to write a recap of the proceedings of an event for an online periodical. I attended, I gathered info and I sat down and wrote the thing. I don't do "drafts", I write something, look at it, change it around and I finish. Rarely do I ever go back and revise or edit. I'm self-editing as I go. But for some reason still unknown to me, it was never published. Maybe the woman who was the editor thought I was going to go back and change it or make some revelation later that I hadn't gotten to the first time. But without her feedback, I never knew what it was she was looking for. So I left it as is. I don't operate "by the book", never have. I learn the book and then I adapt my own interpretation. I make my own rules and then I break them. That's what a Professional does.
And that's what you should expect when you read things I write here.
I think I'll lead off with some stuff I've done in the not so distant past, just to get a bit of variety going. In most cases, what you see is what I wrote at the time, except for instances where I changed something due to the fact it was relevant then, not so much now.
So read on, and tell me what you think about what I think.
Res Ipsa Locquitor
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