I just realized run-on, fragmented sentences and misspellings create a nice red and green holiday underlining for the holidays. It’s a greeting card from Microsoft for the stupid people. Awesome! Spell check must be Ebenezer because I just lost my colors. Alright, so here we go. I have to psyche myself up for another column because it has been buried under boxes or old Holiday decorations and lights and some creatures that have been living in my garage attic. No they aren’t aliens waiting to take me away to the French Alps and then their home planet rescuing me from my Mayan predicted destruction, apparently they were just rats re-introducing the black plague for a 13th Century renaissance...rats!!! Wow, ok welcome back random thoughts..no rats, I swear, but yes the column/blog/mental cleansing apparently was backed up. I feel like I am taking my first drink of alcohol after years as a teetotaler.
How was the year for everyone? 2012? Didn’t think we’d make it this far? Not sure what to do now that we have? Glad you didn’t build that bunker after all? Has anyone knocked on the bunkers of those doomsdayers to let them know it’s ok to come back into the light? I feel like the old psychic from Poltergeist calling into the white tv fuzz that used to exist before we all got sucked into 2000 cable channels of reality television..”Carol Anne…Carol Anne…come back to the light…Carol Anne???” And her little voice calls back..”I just got a show on TruTV with PaulyD screw you old psychic lady! Did you predict that?”
It’s been a good year for me. I ran a lot, more running that I’ve ever done in my life. At least the type of running that doesn’t involve sirens behind me and that is a positive. When you can run recreationally and not for survival that is the good stuff. I didn’t write as much (obviously) because the words now come out pouring like a backed up faucet minus the lead poisoning. I ran four half-marathons in 2012 and another one on the horizon in early February to start of the New Year. It’s hard to motivate myself to run when the snow flurries and wind chill pounds you in the face and the darkness swallows you like the whale swallowed Geppetto in Pinocchio but it is also kind of cool to have cars pass you in awe of your a) bad ass(ed)ness and b) outright insanity. My race in February is in Huntington Beach, so that helps motivate, plus Maui on the docket in early March is also motivation…because I don’t want to look like the whale that swallowed Geppetto!
2013 will be an exciting year to come. I have a feeling I’m in for unveiling new chapters in my life and may even write one or two for once. I won’t make it a long blog because with the Holidays, attention span (yours, mine, ours, etc) I don’t have the stamina to write another few paragraphs in ’12. I just thought I’d let you all know I still write (things that should stay in my head) and you haven’t missed anything in the process. Hope all of my family and friends have a wonderful Christmas and New Years wrapping up the 1-2. See you all in the very lucky ’13.
Friday, December 21, 2012
Sunday, August 26, 2012
My jersey says idiot
I don’t envy
kids today. We live in a world where it is more important to look good than to
feel good. Our infomercials show us that a toned fit body is more important
than the knowledge received picking up a book. I am as guilty as the next
person, the commercial I can’t get out of my head is the fitness routine based
on MMA fighting which seems to guarantee abs that will make me look like a chiseled
Octagon fighter. Abs I could crack eggs on in the morning, all the while I’ve
completely forgotten the link to the cool infomercial online a few weeks back which
could teach me any language in two months. Which one would bring me more value?
Making breakfast on my stomach or learning skills that would allow me to eat
breakfast anywhere in the world?
Try being a
student today and playing sports. We find out every day another hero we
idolized cheated to success. How would you like to be the young cyclist with
the Lance Armstrong poster on your wall? I find myself watching baseball and
not marveling at their skill but wondering what their testosterone count is.
Are they 3-1? What are they doing to stay undetected? I am not going to lie, I
was wondering how I could obtain testosterone myself to go ahead and speed up
those ab exercises in the first place. If you look good it must be healthy
right? If you aren’t cheating you are not utilizing all the tools. And hell, in
the case of football you are only guaranteed so many years of playing without
damaging your brain on concussions why not maximize your profits and make sure
you sign a top dollar contract.
I just
watched a baseball team yesterday trade for three players with contracts paying
270 million over the next 6-7 years. This California team is worth more than
half of its cities, which are filing bankruptcy. City employees, firefighters,
police forces, are losing jobs and benefits because of the financial hardships
due to short-term thinking and failure of long-term planning and we just shell
out an extra $100 (at least) every time we go to the park to distract ourselves
from how bad the rest of our lives are. I wrote a long time ago in internet
years (last year to be exact) that we live like the Romans before the collapse
of the Roman Empire. We pay to watch these gladiators in the Coliseum and
obsess over statistics while our own houses crumble around us. We are grateful
if one millionaire who arrives at the park from him mansion in a limo graces
the field in our presence and does something he is paid millions to do in the
first place. We cheer them on like conquering hero’s and buy their jerseys
until they find another park that pays them more. Meanwhile we are still paying
their salaries in higher ticket prices and concession stand prices, long after
they have driven away to “grace” another field.
I love
sports as much as the next guy but we are crazy. We have literally saturated
our daily lives with numbers and statistics that mean nothing, give us nothing,
and achieve for us nothing, but the ability to distract ourselves. And we seem
to be ok when we find out that some of our heroes cheated. We rationalize that everyone
does it anyways. Is it not fitting when
our own companies cut down on employees and benefits, job promotions, yet find
the hidden fortune to place their names on stadiums and sponsor athletes? These
nearly billion dollar Coliseums that the masses flock to that are sponsored by
the same companies that also make it difficult to afford the games in the first
place? We are being squeezed. Each and every day us the consumer are being
squeezed by our purchases and lifestyles. I say this as I can’t even watch Fox
on Direct TV because of a dispute with a broadcasting company in Yakima that
holds our Fox television rights. Both sides claim they are working for us. Both
sides will agree to just charge us more. Don’t worry, it’s coming. Do you hear
that sound behind the trumpets of the Coliseum? It’s the sound of eggs getting
thrown at our washboard abs. Better react fast, that’s dinner.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
About that Mt. Ashland hike....
When you reach the summit of anything there is an exhilaration that can be overwhelming. It can punch you in the gut with honesty. It can make you reflect on choices in our lives we are both ashamed and proud of. You can be filled with an enormous relief and excitement and also a deep sadness. We realize how small we are, tiny in the large world we live, and also how many things we set upon as children that never were fulfilled or imagined. It’s not all glory, it’s an awakening. It’s clearing of mental cobwebs in sweat and tears and pain that can make every emotion within us pound our psyches like an orchestra.
Somehow in my long four hour trek last weekend I found myself pushed like I hadn’t been before. I was angry at my naivety of my fitness level and arrogance. I was stunned that people who appeared less able-bodied blew past me. I wondered what the hell I was doing, several times, it all sorts of colorful foul language to myself, my girlfriend, and the damn bees that swarmed me repeatedly up the mountain. I channeled the voices of every motivation movie clip or sound bite I could remember in my life. Quotes from great philosophers, authors, motivational speakers, movies, and Yoda played through my head instead of IPod music. “Try not. Do, or do not.” I heard the little green bastard scold me as I struggled up different portions of the trail. Like young Luke my arrogance was overwhelming. And just like old Yoda, old men sped by me up the hill.
Three miles into my ascent I felt amazing. I was running confidently and with purpose. I didn’t see what the big deal was about this trek. The hype seemed undeserved. Who can’t handle this? By mile six I realized what I had gotten myself into. The perpetual climb up trails that never seemed to level was infecting my false bravado. I was getting pummeled by the climb. That imaginary finish line that was around each corner was never there. I kept waiting for the incline to stop but at every turn would watch it only increase. It was like a scene out of Inception. The floor became the ceiling above me. I was hoping I could wake up but found myself just in another dream inside a dream with myself being played by Screech from Saved by the Bell. Where was the casting re-write? I thought I could easily have been Tom Hardy. Dustin Diamond??!!
By mile ten I was cursing the existence of mountains. What was the purpose of man to climb these things? We invented elevators and escalators to avoid this. Technology enabled us to not torture our bodies with such ignorant pursuits. Hell, even the old settlers had stagecoaches and horses. Yet you keep moving. Realization sets in that there is nothing else to do but move forward. No one is going to do it for you. It’s you versus your subconscious. The voices of don’t and failure against the motion of progress. Those voices are always there, mine just happen to sound like the munchkins from the Wizard of Oz, but helium-throated negativity is still a downer! And I’m going up!!
And up and up..and up. You realize by mile 12 and the promise of the Mt. Ashland Ski Lodge that up is eternal. The road leading to the lodge is no oasis of comfort but more unending Eternia that must eventually lead to Castle GreySkull. Oh how I wish Battle Cat hadn’t abandoned me on mile 7, but I must move forward.
The lodge was finally reached and a nice reprieve but I knew that the hardest part was yet to come. The entire run/hike was built around the final hurdle of the journey. I would have to climb to the top on Mt Ashland, the white weather ball that had glared down at me from Lithia Park in its brilliance. It seemed insurmountable, unattainable, yet was closer than ever until I turned the final turn on the trail and looked up at where it actually was. Holy Sh##$$%$&*(__()@#%$#! Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepppppppppppp.
This was a test of the emergency broadcasting system…
It was a straight vertical incline that looked almost like a ride out of Disneyland, if Disneyland found masochism fun for the whole family. This was the Matterhorn on steroids. This was the Alps out of the Sound of Music minus the singing children and the music and general happiness. 12.5 miles of hardship led me to half a mile of straight physical brutality. What made it even more intimidating were the people who has passed us miles ago who were still only half way up the final mountain to the finish. Dear God, what have I done?! There was no secret elevator passageway. No rope climb option. It was scaling, scaling rocks, hands and knees style. The dream inside the dream now spun upside sown with Yoda and munchkins singing and Skeletor glaring down at me.
All you can do is keep climbing. You must silence the singing, the doubts, the acid-trippy visuals and keep moving forward. Ten minutes later you look down and see the same bewildered face from someone else that you made when they are looking up at you. Twenty minutes later you are near the top the finish line beckoning. The altitude sucks you dry, the length exhausts you, but the finish is worth the pain. You are there, finished, four hours later. Someone tells you the top guy finished under two. You want to hurl that person off the mountain, but you are too tired to even lift your arms. They have a masseuse at the top for muscle relaxation, but where is the psychiatrist?! Oh, that’s what the beer is for? I share a keg with my green friend Yoda and Skeletor.
Somehow in my long four hour trek last weekend I found myself pushed like I hadn’t been before. I was angry at my naivety of my fitness level and arrogance. I was stunned that people who appeared less able-bodied blew past me. I wondered what the hell I was doing, several times, it all sorts of colorful foul language to myself, my girlfriend, and the damn bees that swarmed me repeatedly up the mountain. I channeled the voices of every motivation movie clip or sound bite I could remember in my life. Quotes from great philosophers, authors, motivational speakers, movies, and Yoda played through my head instead of IPod music. “Try not. Do, or do not.” I heard the little green bastard scold me as I struggled up different portions of the trail. Like young Luke my arrogance was overwhelming. And just like old Yoda, old men sped by me up the hill.
Three miles into my ascent I felt amazing. I was running confidently and with purpose. I didn’t see what the big deal was about this trek. The hype seemed undeserved. Who can’t handle this? By mile six I realized what I had gotten myself into. The perpetual climb up trails that never seemed to level was infecting my false bravado. I was getting pummeled by the climb. That imaginary finish line that was around each corner was never there. I kept waiting for the incline to stop but at every turn would watch it only increase. It was like a scene out of Inception. The floor became the ceiling above me. I was hoping I could wake up but found myself just in another dream inside a dream with myself being played by Screech from Saved by the Bell. Where was the casting re-write? I thought I could easily have been Tom Hardy. Dustin Diamond??!!
By mile ten I was cursing the existence of mountains. What was the purpose of man to climb these things? We invented elevators and escalators to avoid this. Technology enabled us to not torture our bodies with such ignorant pursuits. Hell, even the old settlers had stagecoaches and horses. Yet you keep moving. Realization sets in that there is nothing else to do but move forward. No one is going to do it for you. It’s you versus your subconscious. The voices of don’t and failure against the motion of progress. Those voices are always there, mine just happen to sound like the munchkins from the Wizard of Oz, but helium-throated negativity is still a downer! And I’m going up!!
And up and up..and up. You realize by mile 12 and the promise of the Mt. Ashland Ski Lodge that up is eternal. The road leading to the lodge is no oasis of comfort but more unending Eternia that must eventually lead to Castle GreySkull. Oh how I wish Battle Cat hadn’t abandoned me on mile 7, but I must move forward.
The lodge was finally reached and a nice reprieve but I knew that the hardest part was yet to come. The entire run/hike was built around the final hurdle of the journey. I would have to climb to the top on Mt Ashland, the white weather ball that had glared down at me from Lithia Park in its brilliance. It seemed insurmountable, unattainable, yet was closer than ever until I turned the final turn on the trail and looked up at where it actually was. Holy Sh##$$%$&*(__()@#%$#! Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepppppppppppp.
This was a test of the emergency broadcasting system…
It was a straight vertical incline that looked almost like a ride out of Disneyland, if Disneyland found masochism fun for the whole family. This was the Matterhorn on steroids. This was the Alps out of the Sound of Music minus the singing children and the music and general happiness. 12.5 miles of hardship led me to half a mile of straight physical brutality. What made it even more intimidating were the people who has passed us miles ago who were still only half way up the final mountain to the finish. Dear God, what have I done?! There was no secret elevator passageway. No rope climb option. It was scaling, scaling rocks, hands and knees style. The dream inside the dream now spun upside sown with Yoda and munchkins singing and Skeletor glaring down at me.
All you can do is keep climbing. You must silence the singing, the doubts, the acid-trippy visuals and keep moving forward. Ten minutes later you look down and see the same bewildered face from someone else that you made when they are looking up at you. Twenty minutes later you are near the top the finish line beckoning. The altitude sucks you dry, the length exhausts you, but the finish is worth the pain. You are there, finished, four hours later. Someone tells you the top guy finished under two. You want to hurl that person off the mountain, but you are too tired to even lift your arms. They have a masseuse at the top for muscle relaxation, but where is the psychiatrist?! Oh, that’s what the beer is for? I share a keg with my green friend Yoda and Skeletor.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Hazy day
Been a while since I’ve blogged so why not. I’m not melting outside, or inside for that matter, so those are positives. I realize that Seth McFarland is dialed into my psyche somehow. I’ve already been compared to Brian from Family Guy a few times and now his new character in Ted is named “Jon” is 35, single, a slacker, and his best friend is a teddy bear. It’s uncanny this guy! He is so dialed into me it’s ridiculous. I too like to sing way too often for my own and everyone else’s good. So Seth..you are welcome. I am glad I can provide you endless revenue streams..but if you don’t mind would you please fire me back a little retro motivation on that creative genius you got flowing? Thanks!
It’s important to not lose sight on the important things. What those are today..I have no clue. I guess we have an election coming up in November. The new Iphone hasn’t arrived yet? The global economy is teetering, wait it’s not? Joe Paterno was really not the great guy we thought he was. Maybe we focus too much on self-image and preservation than doing the right thing in the first place. I love that the American uniforms for the Olympics are made in China. And also that American cities are filing for bankruptcy. These are all great positive things to look forward to. That global economy thing is looking to be working smoothly.
I had a client tell me yesterday that there is a city in California that is close to SF that is so broke their entire police force was laid off. They have beautiful homes that have been vacated because there are so many loans under water and no services available in the city. The vacant homes are being used by gangs and turned into meth labs. People in this city can’t call the cops because there are none. If they complain they can be intimidated and murdered, they can’t re-sell; they can’t safely stay, so they are forced to abandon their homes or load up on artillery. The old American West reborn, minus Gene Hackman who I read today has been retired from acting now for a few years. Where is Little Bill when we need him?!
Other than that we can train ourselves. We can make better buying decisions. Spend less, eat healthier, work out. I know I am addicted to the gym right now and running. At least when gasoline gets too expensive and the oil wells runs dry I can run to work! We got a vegetable garden growing that requires a heck of a lot of TLC and watering but has yet to produce any edible food, that’s progress I guess. All the money in the world can’t buy you your health. All the free health care in the world won’t prevent the diseases we ourselves have the ability to protect ourselves from just by living healthier lifestyles.
There is fog, smoke, and smog that can fill the air and cloud our vision and there is rain, sweat, and tears that can wash it all away. Liquid can cleanse pollution, either the external or internal we fill our lives with. But it’s only a temporary cleansing unless we change what polluted it in the first place. If nothing else at least hydrate yourself with some water or jump in the river, that is as long as there are no River Monsters in there. Those catfish are gruesome.
It’s important to not lose sight on the important things. What those are today..I have no clue. I guess we have an election coming up in November. The new Iphone hasn’t arrived yet? The global economy is teetering, wait it’s not? Joe Paterno was really not the great guy we thought he was. Maybe we focus too much on self-image and preservation than doing the right thing in the first place. I love that the American uniforms for the Olympics are made in China. And also that American cities are filing for bankruptcy. These are all great positive things to look forward to. That global economy thing is looking to be working smoothly.
I had a client tell me yesterday that there is a city in California that is close to SF that is so broke their entire police force was laid off. They have beautiful homes that have been vacated because there are so many loans under water and no services available in the city. The vacant homes are being used by gangs and turned into meth labs. People in this city can’t call the cops because there are none. If they complain they can be intimidated and murdered, they can’t re-sell; they can’t safely stay, so they are forced to abandon their homes or load up on artillery. The old American West reborn, minus Gene Hackman who I read today has been retired from acting now for a few years. Where is Little Bill when we need him?!
Other than that we can train ourselves. We can make better buying decisions. Spend less, eat healthier, work out. I know I am addicted to the gym right now and running. At least when gasoline gets too expensive and the oil wells runs dry I can run to work! We got a vegetable garden growing that requires a heck of a lot of TLC and watering but has yet to produce any edible food, that’s progress I guess. All the money in the world can’t buy you your health. All the free health care in the world won’t prevent the diseases we ourselves have the ability to protect ourselves from just by living healthier lifestyles.
There is fog, smoke, and smog that can fill the air and cloud our vision and there is rain, sweat, and tears that can wash it all away. Liquid can cleanse pollution, either the external or internal we fill our lives with. But it’s only a temporary cleansing unless we change what polluted it in the first place. If nothing else at least hydrate yourself with some water or jump in the river, that is as long as there are no River Monsters in there. Those catfish are gruesome.
Friday, June 1, 2012
Firing squad
The last few days I became engrossed in the Hatfields and the Mccoys. Something about drunken hillbillies drinking moonshine and firing off sawed off shot guns at each others in the Appalachian wilderness kept me captivated. It's good to know that people were just as freaking crazy back then as they are now, but damn..people are crazy now! There is something in the atmosphere that is making people who are normally off their rockers even more delusional. Maybe that paradigm shift leading us to 12/21/2012. I don't know, but I'm scared and annoyed. Crazy people irritate the hell out of me. I understand conditions and the economy and whatever whacked stuff people feed their brains can affect them but I am over sympathy and compassion.
Is it possible people were less messed up 50-100 years ago? With technology and increased information and knowledge I don't see ourselves advancing as a species. If anything we are regressing into instinctual barbarians. Perhaps the internet and dripping of bad news like Chinese water torture on our psyches is forcing repression of emotions for individuals who need to lighten up. They can hide in daylight and explode in vengeance when they're perceived slights become unbearable in their deranged minds. It's bizarre. Hit the gym. Open a bottle of moonshine and get lost in the Appalachians. Find a pen pal. Don't go eating people's faces. Don't mail human body parts. Do talk to someone who isn't behind a computer screen. Do go outside and get sunshine or take a hike. Wow, it's just sad how screwed up people are today. We need to form an army to weed out the wackos before they infiltrate our lives. Who needs terrorist cells to worry about, we have the nut jobs in plain sight all around us apparently.
I personally am over analyzing why people act this way. We are not going back to dissect how someone picked on them in high school, or what their parents did to them as a child. We tend to blame the victims in our country than the criminals. Somehow this person needed help. No, what they needed was to be put down before they put any innocents down. We don't save rabid dogs with rabies by petting them. We shouldn't try to sooth psychopaths with words of condolences and remorse. The only mistake was that we let them be crazy around us too long. If we see crazy behavior we should be able to report it to authorities before they act, not only after. There should be a system in place to corral these individuals before they storm our coffee shops with their ammunition.
The news media doesn't help. They feed this frenzy cycle of tragedy in an attempt to get web views and advertising dollars to keep their word engines running, but it doesn't make it right. We shouldn't feed this culture of sensationalizing tragedy. It's like the media wants to break the next horror story first and we feed on it for days and every major outlet breaks down the reasons before they can break the next story. I don't know about you but I sure can't survive without watching another commercial about car insurance in between the doom and gloom they are spoon feeding us. Maybe that is why the Hatfields and Mccoys was such a great history lesson. They knew their enemies, by name. Now we don't know who is friend or foe, who is crazy or not, nor do we know what lunatic lurks around the corner from us.
Is it possible people were less messed up 50-100 years ago? With technology and increased information and knowledge I don't see ourselves advancing as a species. If anything we are regressing into instinctual barbarians. Perhaps the internet and dripping of bad news like Chinese water torture on our psyches is forcing repression of emotions for individuals who need to lighten up. They can hide in daylight and explode in vengeance when they're perceived slights become unbearable in their deranged minds. It's bizarre. Hit the gym. Open a bottle of moonshine and get lost in the Appalachians. Find a pen pal. Don't go eating people's faces. Don't mail human body parts. Do talk to someone who isn't behind a computer screen. Do go outside and get sunshine or take a hike. Wow, it's just sad how screwed up people are today. We need to form an army to weed out the wackos before they infiltrate our lives. Who needs terrorist cells to worry about, we have the nut jobs in plain sight all around us apparently.
I personally am over analyzing why people act this way. We are not going back to dissect how someone picked on them in high school, or what their parents did to them as a child. We tend to blame the victims in our country than the criminals. Somehow this person needed help. No, what they needed was to be put down before they put any innocents down. We don't save rabid dogs with rabies by petting them. We shouldn't try to sooth psychopaths with words of condolences and remorse. The only mistake was that we let them be crazy around us too long. If we see crazy behavior we should be able to report it to authorities before they act, not only after. There should be a system in place to corral these individuals before they storm our coffee shops with their ammunition.
The news media doesn't help. They feed this frenzy cycle of tragedy in an attempt to get web views and advertising dollars to keep their word engines running, but it doesn't make it right. We shouldn't feed this culture of sensationalizing tragedy. It's like the media wants to break the next horror story first and we feed on it for days and every major outlet breaks down the reasons before they can break the next story. I don't know about you but I sure can't survive without watching another commercial about car insurance in between the doom and gloom they are spoon feeding us. Maybe that is why the Hatfields and Mccoys was such a great history lesson. They knew their enemies, by name. Now we don't know who is friend or foe, who is crazy or not, nor do we know what lunatic lurks around the corner from us.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Short fiction: Summer fling
It’s tempting to wish summer lasted forever. That the skies
always stayed a purple haze and the cool breeze caressed off the trees behind a
symphony of crickets. Their music softly echoing in the near distance like a
party but not quite next door enough to join.
The lightness of air made him float in his backyard ignoring the colder
darkness and its deeper chords soon beckoning.
His thoughts cast in midair like a baited line hovering before its
plummet into an icy river.
All he could think about tonight was the way her glow radiated across the distance. She consumed him and devastated him all at once. His mother had always told him as a little bugger when the one he loved met his eyes he would know immediately. Yet the feelings that reverberated through him morphed from giddiness to downright sickness. She was more beautiful than the brightest sunflower yet made him stomach ache like he had swallowed sour grass. She kept him up at night, her vibrant shimmering image, more frustratingly loud in his head than the mating bull frogs in the pond behind the yard.
During the day he would wallow at the lack of attention she showed him as if she were only interested in his affection when the sun fell down. At night when their paths crossed she displayed almost another personality altogether. Her beauty was even more alluring, so much so that he knew there were others who coveted her, yet he could believe none more so than he. Sure he’d heard stories from his friends of her unattainability. He had heard she was too illuminating for a rogue like him. He had a reputation himself and had certainly met other beauties who had probably crossed her path as well, but she buzzed in his head like no others.
Most days he just had to survive. The world had changed since his parents were young. The environment more threatening. Perhaps his desires were a foolish attempt to hold onto his youth the way the dusk held off the night. While the sun beat hotter each summer that passed it felt much colder. The evenings brought the familiarity of warmth and his childhood. It brought back the long games he played with his friends, the trees he climbed upon, and the wet grass he laid in. At night they hovered near a flaming barbeque or light in the backyard, the laughter of family and friends and crickets all-encompassing.
This day was longer than usual. There were less spots to hide and more trouble to hide from. All day long he could think of nothing but the shade, a breeze, and her radiance. He envisioned the pond and a festival of flickering lights around them. He knew tonight would be the night he showed her the way he truly felt. No longer would he hide in the day and be teased by her nighttime flirtations.
The weekly barbeque they both were to attend seemed as good a time as any. Their friends would congregate and he would fly in when she was free and make his pitch. His stomach once again felt like sour grass as the night approached and she glowed even more than usual. He watched as several others approached her only to get shot down in a hurry. His instincts told him to turn away but his heart would not allow him. The cool air hit him as he dived into her orbit. The beauty she possessed even warmer the closer he came. As his heart sang and his stomach hollowed he swooped in to whisper in her ear. “ZAP!” The surge ran through his body as her kiss left him cold. He crumbled to the ground lifeless one last glance at the purple sky above, her glowing orb, a giant shoe…CRUNCH….”Damn bug.”
All he could think about tonight was the way her glow radiated across the distance. She consumed him and devastated him all at once. His mother had always told him as a little bugger when the one he loved met his eyes he would know immediately. Yet the feelings that reverberated through him morphed from giddiness to downright sickness. She was more beautiful than the brightest sunflower yet made him stomach ache like he had swallowed sour grass. She kept him up at night, her vibrant shimmering image, more frustratingly loud in his head than the mating bull frogs in the pond behind the yard.
During the day he would wallow at the lack of attention she showed him as if she were only interested in his affection when the sun fell down. At night when their paths crossed she displayed almost another personality altogether. Her beauty was even more alluring, so much so that he knew there were others who coveted her, yet he could believe none more so than he. Sure he’d heard stories from his friends of her unattainability. He had heard she was too illuminating for a rogue like him. He had a reputation himself and had certainly met other beauties who had probably crossed her path as well, but she buzzed in his head like no others.
Most days he just had to survive. The world had changed since his parents were young. The environment more threatening. Perhaps his desires were a foolish attempt to hold onto his youth the way the dusk held off the night. While the sun beat hotter each summer that passed it felt much colder. The evenings brought the familiarity of warmth and his childhood. It brought back the long games he played with his friends, the trees he climbed upon, and the wet grass he laid in. At night they hovered near a flaming barbeque or light in the backyard, the laughter of family and friends and crickets all-encompassing.
This day was longer than usual. There were less spots to hide and more trouble to hide from. All day long he could think of nothing but the shade, a breeze, and her radiance. He envisioned the pond and a festival of flickering lights around them. He knew tonight would be the night he showed her the way he truly felt. No longer would he hide in the day and be teased by her nighttime flirtations.
The weekly barbeque they both were to attend seemed as good a time as any. Their friends would congregate and he would fly in when she was free and make his pitch. His stomach once again felt like sour grass as the night approached and she glowed even more than usual. He watched as several others approached her only to get shot down in a hurry. His instincts told him to turn away but his heart would not allow him. The cool air hit him as he dived into her orbit. The beauty she possessed even warmer the closer he came. As his heart sang and his stomach hollowed he swooped in to whisper in her ear. “ZAP!” The surge ran through his body as her kiss left him cold. He crumbled to the ground lifeless one last glance at the purple sky above, her glowing orb, a giant shoe…CRUNCH….”Damn bug.”
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Blogist's perspective
I’ve neglected the blog. I’ve denied its existence. I abandoned it in a field buried under mounds of debris and used lawn furniture. I’ve watched it sink to the bottom of the Marina Trench and land in the alien-like empty sea floor until James Cameron fancies himself another trip to the bottom of the ocean. At least this time he’ll find something, read it, and hire me to write the screenplay for his next film! I haven’t written in months, nor had a desire, maybe no one has noticed.
The blog however is like Michael Corleone in Godfather III. “Every time I think I am done..they pull me back in!!” They being the voices in my head telling me I haven’t written in forever and I’m verging on losing brain cells due to lack of creative activity. How much of this is intelligence, creativity, or just quieting the voices I am not sure. Painters paint, Musicians play music, Writers write novels, and nutcases like me..we pen rambling blogs. No rhyme or reason, no start nor destination, just mumbo jumbo that consumes me.
I know every artist goes through dry spells, even bloggers or a blogist. If someone who shops at TJ Maxx can be a Maxximista I can be a blogist. Let me say this as a returning blogist I am over political season. Supposedly it is just beginning but it can already end as far as I’m concerned. I don’t care who is elected, I don’t care what they stand for, I am indifferent to their policies and personal background and history, just elect one of the two and let us focus on something else. In my industry we have seem to be painted enemy #1 and I’m sick and tired of having conversations everyday about how mad they are at the process. I don’t make the rules, nor do I have a voice within my company to change the process. Too many people think that if they share their voice here we can do something, we can not. The media has fed stories placing blame on sources that are not to blame. It’s a free marker enterprise. If you are unhappy move your business, you can’t change the way a business runs.
If you don’t like a companies policy that is completely fine. When did we become a nation where everyone has to love everyone and we dance and sing in harmony? The benefit of freedom is being free to do something else. No one holds you hostage somewhere you don’t want to be. I hate that I’m even contributing to the gluttony of information on the web. Everyone thinks that their voice needs to be heard, be it a blog, on the streets, holding signs, at your desk, in the classroom. Not every voice does need to be heard or regurgitated on the blogosphere.
A friend of mine told me that an 89 year old man decked her manager in his office over a $1 fee. This is the fuse that has been lit by too much media. People have absolutely lost it. I remember listening to someone once say it is not a major event that causes someone to lose it, it is their shoelace busting. That may set them off because it builds like a powder keg inside of them. Yesterday I had a thirty minute discussion with a client upset over a $6 fee I was already reversing for him. It’s no longer the dollar amount it’s the principle he says. Everything with everyone is the principle. Who sets the principle? Network television which broadcasts commercials for many of the same companies they slander on their news shows that also help pay for the junk food television we are feeding our brains? The over-priced Iphone who are getting your daily news feed from? The local coffee shop which raised the price of flavored water?
The problem with the information age is all the misinformation it feeds everyone. Suddenly everyone is educated about everything, but they failed to learn anything in the process. They may be knowledgeable but they lack a broader perspective. They absorb news but they don’t relate it to themselves and how it truly impacts them. They want rapid responses. Just as the problem with the economy was short-term investors trying to make a quick buck and not thinking long-term, the problem with information junkies and new media is not digesting what we’ve been fed. We vomit the media’s text and words right back into society like a ten week old baby unable to digest baby food.
Frustration exists over a lot of different things but we control how we react to it and that is truly all we do control. Michael Corleone had different ways to react and I hope people realize that was a movie.
The blog however is like Michael Corleone in Godfather III. “Every time I think I am done..they pull me back in!!” They being the voices in my head telling me I haven’t written in forever and I’m verging on losing brain cells due to lack of creative activity. How much of this is intelligence, creativity, or just quieting the voices I am not sure. Painters paint, Musicians play music, Writers write novels, and nutcases like me..we pen rambling blogs. No rhyme or reason, no start nor destination, just mumbo jumbo that consumes me.
I know every artist goes through dry spells, even bloggers or a blogist. If someone who shops at TJ Maxx can be a Maxximista I can be a blogist. Let me say this as a returning blogist I am over political season. Supposedly it is just beginning but it can already end as far as I’m concerned. I don’t care who is elected, I don’t care what they stand for, I am indifferent to their policies and personal background and history, just elect one of the two and let us focus on something else. In my industry we have seem to be painted enemy #1 and I’m sick and tired of having conversations everyday about how mad they are at the process. I don’t make the rules, nor do I have a voice within my company to change the process. Too many people think that if they share their voice here we can do something, we can not. The media has fed stories placing blame on sources that are not to blame. It’s a free marker enterprise. If you are unhappy move your business, you can’t change the way a business runs.
If you don’t like a companies policy that is completely fine. When did we become a nation where everyone has to love everyone and we dance and sing in harmony? The benefit of freedom is being free to do something else. No one holds you hostage somewhere you don’t want to be. I hate that I’m even contributing to the gluttony of information on the web. Everyone thinks that their voice needs to be heard, be it a blog, on the streets, holding signs, at your desk, in the classroom. Not every voice does need to be heard or regurgitated on the blogosphere.
A friend of mine told me that an 89 year old man decked her manager in his office over a $1 fee. This is the fuse that has been lit by too much media. People have absolutely lost it. I remember listening to someone once say it is not a major event that causes someone to lose it, it is their shoelace busting. That may set them off because it builds like a powder keg inside of them. Yesterday I had a thirty minute discussion with a client upset over a $6 fee I was already reversing for him. It’s no longer the dollar amount it’s the principle he says. Everything with everyone is the principle. Who sets the principle? Network television which broadcasts commercials for many of the same companies they slander on their news shows that also help pay for the junk food television we are feeding our brains? The over-priced Iphone who are getting your daily news feed from? The local coffee shop which raised the price of flavored water?
The problem with the information age is all the misinformation it feeds everyone. Suddenly everyone is educated about everything, but they failed to learn anything in the process. They may be knowledgeable but they lack a broader perspective. They absorb news but they don’t relate it to themselves and how it truly impacts them. They want rapid responses. Just as the problem with the economy was short-term investors trying to make a quick buck and not thinking long-term, the problem with information junkies and new media is not digesting what we’ve been fed. We vomit the media’s text and words right back into society like a ten week old baby unable to digest baby food.
Frustration exists over a lot of different things but we control how we react to it and that is truly all we do control. Michael Corleone had different ways to react and I hope people realize that was a movie.
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