The final of the blogs. Last of the bloghecians. How many roads can a man blog down… I’m pretty much just typing words. You know, others blog about interesting things that happened to them recently, and my inability to think of anything to blog about is starting to chafe. Do I live that boring of a life? Let’s see, in the last week… parents moved into their new place they’ve been wanting to move into for the last three years. We have to give back these totally awesome $800 chairs we’ve been using for the last two years. One of them has burst at a seam, but behold the power of super glue.
You know, I’ve been feeling down lately, and for no particular reason. Grades are decent, things are good with the Mrs, yet I’m feeling generally depressed. Well, depressed is a strong word, I’ve been depressed before, I think the general statement ‘down’ was most accurate. Anyway, I was wondering what the cause was, and I think I’ve figured it out. I’m Jonesing…. If I spelt that correctly. My motherboard is thrashed and my system is very unstable, so I’ve been unable to game. For weeks. I think I’m just shy of scratching my arm here. It’s kind of depressing to realize you’re dependent on a hobby. I need to develop another one, a more ‘productive’ one as the Mrs. might say.
The ironic thing is I’m actually less productive. The time spent gaming is spent listlessly searching for entertainment, a virtually endless tasks that ends up bleeding into otherwise potentially productive hours. Man, rough draft of our final draft due on Monday? That seems out of left field, to hear that’s due there days after the announcement. I’ve got to finish a webpage for another Monday class as well, suppose I’ll have to crunch some over the weekend.
So hey, I’ve come to a decision. As this is my last blog, I’d really like to think of something worth writing down. I’ve been sitting here distracting myself however possible, and haven’t come up with anything. So I’m going to crash (it’s now 5am) & take another crack at this tomorrow. So, consider this blog 5.5, blog 6.0 to come over the weekend. I stayed up to get something down in the interest of having it ontime, but I think the end product will be better if I come at this from a new angle.
It's a day later, and here I am checking the blog-tanks to see if anything has fermented. I spent the weekend making a webpage for a technical writing class, and I have a question I'd like to ask the world. Does accepting something because it happens to work in your favor, when you know for a fact if it worked against you you'd mount a righteous protest, make you a hypocrite? I ask because the webpage is for a writing class, and if it wasn't for the fact I was good at making webpages, I would be protesting that such a major grade was being given in a writing class for a computer science assignment. So, does going along with the assignment happily rather than protesting on principal make me a hypocrite? You know, we're all hypocrites, it's just a matter of degrees. No one perfectly follows any particular code of ethics - human beings are too fluid, the situations we find ourselves in too various, for any code of absolutes. You say you'd never kill, but given the right circumstances you would.
Also, we're all whores. I love the old "would you have sex with me for a billion dollars? Yes? How about one dollar? Why do you look so angry? We've already established you're a whore, now we're just negotiating the price." logical reasoning. I don't bring this up for any particular reason (I don't have anyone in my life I'm angry at for whoring or anything), it's just the "We're all hypocrites" idea brought up the "We're all whores" idea in my mind.
So my final project inthis class. Can I mention again how we were only told on Friday that Doctor Hallock would like a draft on Monday? I haven't got one myself, as my project requires scheduling that couldn't be done on such short notice. A friend of mine I went to college to in Indiana has recently "made it" As a writer. As the topic of the final assignment is something akin to "Write about a career path you could follow in the arts," and the only section of 'The Arts' that's potentially even vaguely applicable to my future is 'Writer,' my project is about making it as a writer in the modern day. To facilitate this project, I intend to interview a friend of mine. He has recently applied for WGA membership, (Writer's Guild of America, the pricks responsible for that obnoxious writer's strike that ruined television for six months), and is really starting to make some money writing on screenplays. So I thought interviewing him and learning about the process he went through, then considering how I could apply that information to my own life, would be a good project. Sadly he was busy over the weekend, so we're going to do the interview early next week.
I love this guy though. Really, one of my favorite people. Worst alcoholic I know though - he goes through one of those plastic-bottle-$10-a-handle bottles of vodka every two days like clockwork. He'll seriously be lucky to live past 40, burning the candle at both ends like that. But he's finding success as a writer, and that's amazing. He says he's finally managed the cliché- an alcoholic professional writer. I told him he just had to work on his angst a little more, and he's well on his way to shooting himself in front of a typewriter. We shared a good laugh.
So there's the rest of my blog, coming out at a nice 1000 words once again!
Monday, April 12, 2010
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Blog 5.5!
The final of the blogs. Last of the bloghecians. How many roads can a man blog down… I’m pretty much just typing words. You know, others blog about interesting things that happened to them recently, and my inability to think of anything to blog about is starting to chafe. Do I live that boring of a life? Let’s see, in the last week… parents moved into their new place they’ve been wanting to move into for the last three years. We have to give back these totally awesome $800 chairs we’ve been using for the last two years. One of them has burst at a seam, but behold the power of super glue.
You know, I’ve been feeling down lately, and for no particular reason. Grades are decent, things are good with the Mrs, yet I’m feeling generally depressed. Well, depressed is a strong word, I’ve been depressed before, I think the general statement ‘down’ was most accurate. Anyway, I was wondering what the cause was, and I think I’ve figured it out. I’m Jonesing…. If I spelt that correctly. My motherboard is thrashed and my system is very unstable, so I’ve been unable to game. For weeks. I think I’m just shy of scratching my arm here. It’s kind of depressing to realize you’re dependent on a hobby. I need to develop another one, a more ‘productive’ one as the Mrs. might say.
The ironic thing is I’m actually less productive. The time spent gaming is spent listlessly searching for entertainment, a virtually endless tasks that ends up bleeding into otherwise potentially productive hours. Man, rough draft of our final draft due on Monday? That seems out of left field, to hear that’s due there days after the announcement. I’ve got to finish a webpage for another Monday class as well, suppose I’ll have to crunch some over the weekend.
So hey, I’ve come to a decision. As this is my last blog, I’d really like to think of something worth writing down. I’ve been sitting here distracting myself however possible, and haven’t come up with anything. So I’m going to crash (it’s now 5am) & take another crack at this tomorrow. So, consider this blog 5.5, blog 6.0 to come over the weekend. I stayed up to get something down in the interest of having it ontime, but I think the end product will be better if I come at this from a new angle.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Will the real blog #5 please stand up?
You know, this class has really drained my blogging-juices. Or perhaps it's my bullshit-juices. Heck, the two are synonymous to me. Is that a bad thing though? When I run out of mental diarrhea to spew on the page, perhaps i'll be left with something of worth to write? Perhaps I need only come up with a theme, or an idea. The syllabus says we get points for narration...hmm. Well, what is there to narrate in a blog? It's just a person writing their thoughts down. I guess I must narrate that!
Allow me to digress, briefly, on the topic of spelling diarrhea. Jow pathetic is it that I had to google diarrhea to learn to spell it. You know, spell check often can't figure out what word I meant to spell, but google gets it 100% of the time. Microsoft needs to rip off google's word recognition software and incorporate it to word - I frequently find myself googling words to make sure i'm spelling them correctly, when 5 years ago I opened up Word and wrote the word for the same purpose. The times, they are achanging! Back to the narration!
The writer sits before his keyboard, poised to begin his blog. A recent conversation with his professor plays in his mind, one where it was suggested that he writer attempt to pen the "Anti-Blog." What an antiquated verb, to 'pen,' the writer thinks, his fingers a blur as they move across the keys. These days it ought to be 'type'. It was suggested to the writer that he *type* the anti-blog. He wracks his mind, considering just what that term, "Anti-blog" might mean. To understand the antithesis of blogging, the writer must first consider his own conceptions of blogging. Why, he wonders, do I dislike blogging so? A long pull off a frosty Bud Select holds no answers, and the writer continues to ponder.
This task was put to him because of his general contempt for the medium, and to be able to outline his goal - the anti-blog, he must first outline blogging. I suppose, he begins, it stems from my dislike of frivolous reading. Some blogs hold all the interest of small talk involving the weather. He imagines his idea of the "Other Blogger," writing about their blog.
Today was meant to be sunny, and tomorrow overcast. Yet as I left my house, a raindrop landed on my face! Oh woe is me. I ran back inside and cried about it, and now I'm writing a blog, while crying. I hatqwag ingopi sdgod. Sorry blog, my tears broke another keyboard, luckily I had a spare! Time to listen to some Fallout Boy & cut myself.
It's not even the writing that bothers me, he thinks, remembering all of the drivel he's personally put down on paper (or really, on a screen, the only time I've printed anything but a coupon in the last two years I was forced to use safteypins in lieu of staples). It's the presumption, he concludes dramatically, shaking his fist at no one in particular. The assumed idea that anyone anywhere would possibly care enough to read the frivolous thoughts typical of blogging. He takes another swig, satisfied that he's found the root of the problem. Having worked out what he dislikes about blogging, he wonders what he could do to correct it. Perhaps if blogging were important? He imagines, for a moment, writing the most significant blog in human history.
We're ready to run the final tests. I'm powering up the super collider, and if we're lucky, by this time tomorrow we may have an infinite supply of energy! Oh they called me mad, but I'll show them! All of them! Ahahahahaha....not sure why I typed that. Just a few more seconds now, and I'll have a stable black hole, capable of powering a perpetual energy machi...(At this point, the entire world is swallowed, humanity destroyed by a blogger.)
No, that didn't make the writer feel any better. Though he did appreciate the crazy laugh. He thinks, for a moment, about the nomenclature of laughter. Hahaha is amused, Muhaha is evil, and Ahaha is crazy...would this make Muahaha crazy & evil? He wonders if he should correct the earlier laugh to be crazy & evil, but then realizes that the scientist in question did not intend to destroy the earth. No one ever does, he muses. A glance down at the word count informs the writer he still has a way to go, and he does not yet feel he had made headway in the anti-blog. Then it strikes him - blogging is meant to cover every topic in existence, but can one blog about blogging? Yes, he imagines, but what if it was a narrative!
And now we're caught up to the present. Well, some time ago, when I started writing this.
So I'm at 65 volunteer hours now, between Shakespere, Zombie, Studio & Writers. Heck, I'm failing to follow my own wordcount rules - The Shakespere Company Funding Project, The Zombie St. Pete Informational Package, The Studio @ 620 Parking Lot Attendant Volunteering, and the City of Writers Website Calander Work. Does anyone else think extra credit for going over the required volunteer hours is reasonable? I ask because I still have some volunteer hours on the books for the Studio, but don't really feel inclined to do so if there's no gain. I even actually enjoy volunteering there, it's just that I don't enjoy going there - when I get out of class (As I always head to the studio after class) I feel a potent need to go the fuck home. Anyone else ever feel that way?
Alright well, that brings us to a nice rounded 960 words, but being so close already I feel a compulsion to push the total to 1000. How about some Haiku?
Hallock teaches class
Directions often confused
He always means well
Easter is coming
I'm on the Atkins Diet
No chocolate For Me
Ana loves to pose
Aaron likes the walking dead
Jason hates the school
Man, got the syllables right on the first time! Also, they're all good natured ribbing, & I believe that everyone effected has enough of a sense of humor to enjoy good natured jibes delivered in haiku form. Alright, 1058, we're done now.
Allow me to digress, briefly, on the topic of spelling diarrhea. Jow pathetic is it that I had to google diarrhea to learn to spell it. You know, spell check often can't figure out what word I meant to spell, but google gets it 100% of the time. Microsoft needs to rip off google's word recognition software and incorporate it to word - I frequently find myself googling words to make sure i'm spelling them correctly, when 5 years ago I opened up Word and wrote the word for the same purpose. The times, they are achanging! Back to the narration!
The writer sits before his keyboard, poised to begin his blog. A recent conversation with his professor plays in his mind, one where it was suggested that he writer attempt to pen the "Anti-Blog." What an antiquated verb, to 'pen,' the writer thinks, his fingers a blur as they move across the keys. These days it ought to be 'type'. It was suggested to the writer that he *type* the anti-blog. He wracks his mind, considering just what that term, "Anti-blog" might mean. To understand the antithesis of blogging, the writer must first consider his own conceptions of blogging. Why, he wonders, do I dislike blogging so? A long pull off a frosty Bud Select holds no answers, and the writer continues to ponder.
This task was put to him because of his general contempt for the medium, and to be able to outline his goal - the anti-blog, he must first outline blogging. I suppose, he begins, it stems from my dislike of frivolous reading. Some blogs hold all the interest of small talk involving the weather. He imagines his idea of the "Other Blogger," writing about their blog.
Today was meant to be sunny, and tomorrow overcast. Yet as I left my house, a raindrop landed on my face! Oh woe is me. I ran back inside and cried about it, and now I'm writing a blog, while crying. I hatqwag ingopi sdgod. Sorry blog, my tears broke another keyboard, luckily I had a spare! Time to listen to some Fallout Boy & cut myself.
It's not even the writing that bothers me, he thinks, remembering all of the drivel he's personally put down on paper (or really, on a screen, the only time I've printed anything but a coupon in the last two years I was forced to use safteypins in lieu of staples). It's the presumption, he concludes dramatically, shaking his fist at no one in particular. The assumed idea that anyone anywhere would possibly care enough to read the frivolous thoughts typical of blogging. He takes another swig, satisfied that he's found the root of the problem. Having worked out what he dislikes about blogging, he wonders what he could do to correct it. Perhaps if blogging were important? He imagines, for a moment, writing the most significant blog in human history.
We're ready to run the final tests. I'm powering up the super collider, and if we're lucky, by this time tomorrow we may have an infinite supply of energy! Oh they called me mad, but I'll show them! All of them! Ahahahahaha....not sure why I typed that. Just a few more seconds now, and I'll have a stable black hole, capable of powering a perpetual energy machi...(At this point, the entire world is swallowed, humanity destroyed by a blogger.)
No, that didn't make the writer feel any better. Though he did appreciate the crazy laugh. He thinks, for a moment, about the nomenclature of laughter. Hahaha is amused, Muhaha is evil, and Ahaha is crazy...would this make Muahaha crazy & evil? He wonders if he should correct the earlier laugh to be crazy & evil, but then realizes that the scientist in question did not intend to destroy the earth. No one ever does, he muses. A glance down at the word count informs the writer he still has a way to go, and he does not yet feel he had made headway in the anti-blog. Then it strikes him - blogging is meant to cover every topic in existence, but can one blog about blogging? Yes, he imagines, but what if it was a narrative!
And now we're caught up to the present. Well, some time ago, when I started writing this.
So I'm at 65 volunteer hours now, between Shakespere, Zombie, Studio & Writers. Heck, I'm failing to follow my own wordcount rules - The Shakespere Company Funding Project, The Zombie St. Pete Informational Package, The Studio @ 620 Parking Lot Attendant Volunteering, and the City of Writers Website Calander Work. Does anyone else think extra credit for going over the required volunteer hours is reasonable? I ask because I still have some volunteer hours on the books for the Studio, but don't really feel inclined to do so if there's no gain. I even actually enjoy volunteering there, it's just that I don't enjoy going there - when I get out of class (As I always head to the studio after class) I feel a potent need to go the fuck home. Anyone else ever feel that way?
Alright well, that brings us to a nice rounded 960 words, but being so close already I feel a compulsion to push the total to 1000. How about some Haiku?
Hallock teaches class
Directions often confused
He always means well
Easter is coming
I'm on the Atkins Diet
No chocolate For Me
Ana loves to pose
Aaron likes the walking dead
Jason hates the school
Man, got the syllables right on the first time! Also, they're all good natured ribbing, & I believe that everyone effected has enough of a sense of humor to enjoy good natured jibes delivered in haiku form. Alright, 1058, we're done now.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Studio Blog #5 I guess?
Another fortnight, another blog. My apologies for this one being a few days late, my brother has been rather severely ill and I haven't really felt like blogging.
Update: So looking at others blogs I guess this is 9 days late, instead of 2 days? My bad, spring-break threw me for a loop, I didn't think it counted on our two week counter. It's my first considerably late blog, so I think I'll be ok (Given, and I hate to be the guy that points at others again, but given the update schedule shown on other blogs, I think I'm downright punctual. You know who you are ;P) Doctor Hallock, if you are going to penalize this blog a point for tardiness, please let me know so we can discuss it.
So yeah, I sit here, writing once again. My computer is still screwed, pretty sure my MOBO is more or less dead. As long as I don't try and play any games, the very thing I built this $3200 God in my bedroom for, it only crashes occasionally. To add to this my fiancé has apparently lost the extended warranties I purchased for all my parts, which is in this instance going to cost me about $250, and in the future cost me thousands. This is less than ideal. I finally got her to look for them, (when we moved apartments we put a ton of our stuff into storage as the place we moved into was already furnished, and it's nearly impossible to get her to pick through it.) and the poor girl was nearly in tears at her inability to find them, so I guess i'm just going to have to let this one go. That's a big part of relationships - yes something wrong has happened, but you can be pissed about it and call that its own reward (and it really isn't), or you can let it go and move on. I constantly use the ring on her finger to remind myself that I've decided she's a girl worth letting things go for. Letting stuff go isn't really in my nature.
I also wanted to apologize for my blog-length-nazi behavior. I swear that I had read the syllabus, and that the only criteria it had for the blogs was a 1000 word length. Having now reread the syllabus, i'm uncertain where I got that from. It's not really in my nature to do more work than is required, yet I've been filling every blog to the maximum length. I think I'll aim for a nice rounded 750 today.
The Mrs. Just came home with groceries I had to carry in, so that totally disrupted my thought process. On the plus side, nice cold beer now! You know, sometimes she's in the other room, and I hear her talking to me, and it's like "You know I can't hear what you're saying over that distance," yet she still continues to talk! Then sometimes she'll storm into the room asking why I'm not answering her. Madness!
It's very interesting, melding your life with someone, trying to get used to their individual idiosyncrasies. Lord knows it must be hard to get used to mine. Whenever we're having a fight and she feels like she's reaching a breaking point, I try to remind her that this is just what human relationships are like. Sure if she was with someone else she might not be fighting about issue X or Y, but she'd be fighting about A or B, or E or F, or any other letter or character you want to throw out there. Love is a battlefield! Human relationships are hard, messy things. Just the hormones we illicit in each other alone are enough to drive you half way to madness. Dealing with the differences in personalities takes you the rest of the way.
I'm not decrying the whole process though - infact, I love it. I wouldn't want to be with someone I melded perfectly with - it'd just be boring. I mean really, without the occasional angry sex/makeup sex, life would be a lot duller. Which isn't to say that's the only good sex we have, it's just particularly...spicy. I'll leave it to the readers to define spicy themselves.
So I had wanted to get her a laptop for her birthday/our anniversary, 4/20 & 4/22 respectively. However, I have certain standards for a laptop, and the cheapest I found that was tolerable was $960. She caught wind of this, and poo-poo'd on the whole thing. Apparently I'm not allowed to spend that much of our money on her. I said, hey, $500 of that is on you, the rest is to upgrade the laptop to something I can use as well. That argument did NOT fly. So now I'm back to the drawing board and I really just...have no motivation left. I had the perfect gift, something she needed, something she'd use every day, something I needed as well, both for work and play, and something we're missing (The awful laptop you see me use in class each day is borrowed/stolen from a friend who eventually wants it back.)
We were meant to go to the Renaissance fair today, and afterwards visit my ill brother who lives in Temple Terrace, but as it was rained out we didn't go. I feel bad now, that I wasn't willing to make the drive exclusively to visit my brother.
So I noticed that I've already got a grade for blog responses, and it's the only grade in the gradebook for that. Does that mean we're off the hook on blog responses? Or could I get that very unpleasant 3/5 raised were I to both continue giving blog responses, and up the quality of them? Let me know Doctor Hallock, or I'll ask in class tomorrow.
Well, I've gone well over, and now sit at 999 words, including the update I added, so hey, I'm now apparently an overachiever! 1000!
Oh man, my 1000th word was the word 1000, that tickles me. This brings it to 1016.
Update: So looking at others blogs I guess this is 9 days late, instead of 2 days? My bad, spring-break threw me for a loop, I didn't think it counted on our two week counter. It's my first considerably late blog, so I think I'll be ok (Given, and I hate to be the guy that points at others again, but given the update schedule shown on other blogs, I think I'm downright punctual. You know who you are ;P) Doctor Hallock, if you are going to penalize this blog a point for tardiness, please let me know so we can discuss it.
So yeah, I sit here, writing once again. My computer is still screwed, pretty sure my MOBO is more or less dead. As long as I don't try and play any games, the very thing I built this $3200 God in my bedroom for, it only crashes occasionally. To add to this my fiancé has apparently lost the extended warranties I purchased for all my parts, which is in this instance going to cost me about $250, and in the future cost me thousands. This is less than ideal. I finally got her to look for them, (when we moved apartments we put a ton of our stuff into storage as the place we moved into was already furnished, and it's nearly impossible to get her to pick through it.) and the poor girl was nearly in tears at her inability to find them, so I guess i'm just going to have to let this one go. That's a big part of relationships - yes something wrong has happened, but you can be pissed about it and call that its own reward (and it really isn't), or you can let it go and move on. I constantly use the ring on her finger to remind myself that I've decided she's a girl worth letting things go for. Letting stuff go isn't really in my nature.
I also wanted to apologize for my blog-length-nazi behavior. I swear that I had read the syllabus, and that the only criteria it had for the blogs was a 1000 word length. Having now reread the syllabus, i'm uncertain where I got that from. It's not really in my nature to do more work than is required, yet I've been filling every blog to the maximum length. I think I'll aim for a nice rounded 750 today.
The Mrs. Just came home with groceries I had to carry in, so that totally disrupted my thought process. On the plus side, nice cold beer now! You know, sometimes she's in the other room, and I hear her talking to me, and it's like "You know I can't hear what you're saying over that distance," yet she still continues to talk! Then sometimes she'll storm into the room asking why I'm not answering her. Madness!
It's very interesting, melding your life with someone, trying to get used to their individual idiosyncrasies. Lord knows it must be hard to get used to mine. Whenever we're having a fight and she feels like she's reaching a breaking point, I try to remind her that this is just what human relationships are like. Sure if she was with someone else she might not be fighting about issue X or Y, but she'd be fighting about A or B, or E or F, or any other letter or character you want to throw out there. Love is a battlefield! Human relationships are hard, messy things. Just the hormones we illicit in each other alone are enough to drive you half way to madness. Dealing with the differences in personalities takes you the rest of the way.
I'm not decrying the whole process though - infact, I love it. I wouldn't want to be with someone I melded perfectly with - it'd just be boring. I mean really, without the occasional angry sex/makeup sex, life would be a lot duller. Which isn't to say that's the only good sex we have, it's just particularly...spicy. I'll leave it to the readers to define spicy themselves.
So I had wanted to get her a laptop for her birthday/our anniversary, 4/20 & 4/22 respectively. However, I have certain standards for a laptop, and the cheapest I found that was tolerable was $960. She caught wind of this, and poo-poo'd on the whole thing. Apparently I'm not allowed to spend that much of our money on her. I said, hey, $500 of that is on you, the rest is to upgrade the laptop to something I can use as well. That argument did NOT fly. So now I'm back to the drawing board and I really just...have no motivation left. I had the perfect gift, something she needed, something she'd use every day, something I needed as well, both for work and play, and something we're missing (The awful laptop you see me use in class each day is borrowed/stolen from a friend who eventually wants it back.)
We were meant to go to the Renaissance fair today, and afterwards visit my ill brother who lives in Temple Terrace, but as it was rained out we didn't go. I feel bad now, that I wasn't willing to make the drive exclusively to visit my brother.
So I noticed that I've already got a grade for blog responses, and it's the only grade in the gradebook for that. Does that mean we're off the hook on blog responses? Or could I get that very unpleasant 3/5 raised were I to both continue giving blog responses, and up the quality of them? Let me know Doctor Hallock, or I'll ask in class tomorrow.
Well, I've gone well over, and now sit at 999 words, including the update I added, so hey, I'm now apparently an overachiever! 1000!
Oh man, my 1000th word was the word 1000, that tickles me. This brings it to 1016.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Studio Blog #3
So another fortnight, another thousand word blog. You know, it's surprisingly difficult to fill up one thousand words about nothing. A few secrets - say one thousand instead of one thousand (see, that was meant to be one thousand, the number but i realized by saying one thousand again that's an extra word, plus this explanation is an extra 29) So that's sixty words so far, with nothing covered. The studio is going well, I think I'm up around fifteen hours to date, so it is coming along. I really don't mind the parking lot at this point. I bring a book, there's a corner with a light that lets me read all night, and I dress very warmly. If I can rope my fiancée into coming or picking me up I also bring my leather flask with me, with some midrange scotch contained within. Nothing better for the cold! I'd normally conceal that, but on the Studio's webpage it says that volunteers get a glass of wine per volunteering (Those over 21, start demanding that!) so I guess drinking on the job isn't an issue. Well that window into alcoholism brings us up to 196 words. So the two projects I'm working on currently, the pdf information packed for zombie st. pete & the funds for the theater group. I'm very happy with what I've produced for zombie st. pete, and Aaron has been encouraging to date, that bad boy is just about 80% complete. Another tip, no contractions. I had "bad boy's", but i changed it to "bad boy is," shabam, extra word. So the theater company, man, a few points. I think their best bet, other than finding a particular private investor (which i've had little luck in) is to apply for a government grant. The problem is virtually all of them you apply in 2009 for 2010, 2010 for 2011, etc etc. I'm compiling a list of grants that should be applicable, as well as (hopefully) a few potential sources for private investors and patrons of the arts. Fingers crossed on that one. That's 350 words. Man, it sure takes a while. Man, when I was a little younger, I could rant for hours. Sometimes I'd just type out rants for the sheer joy of it - I type 120 words a minute, so it's pretty fluid. Ok, I'll give it a shot, some musings on the purpose of existence
A life without purpose. An existence without meaning. This is the conundrum that presents itself to any being that spends too much time wandering the plane of thought. All sentient beings wonder, at one point in their lives or another, why they exist. To what purpose they, as an individual, as a civilization, and as a species exist. Many accept the ready-made answer of a God, be he a benevolent Father figure or an omnipotent being to be appeased. To those though who are dissatisfied with another's answer and wish to seek their own, the nagging question of "Why?" persists. At this point though, two paths of thought present themselves, or at least two stand out from the crowd of potential ideas. The first is that there is no answer, that we exist in a Universe without purpose or direction, and that once the energies that animate all existence around us have burned out there will be nothing left. The cosmic accident that is existence will have ended. The second idea offers a little more comfort, to those that know how to seek it. Why? can be answered with the question, Why not? Existence, life, and being are the answers to their own question. Life exists simply because it can, and in the execution of our lives from birth to death we fulfill the only purpose we ever had; to live. For many this is the most terrifying idea of all; That there is no destination to life, other than death. We run our course, and then we're done and it is another's turn at existence. In this idea though, humanity can find the only true freedom we'll ever know. If we, the intellectuals of our race, can disconnect ourselves from the nagging questions of How, Why, and Who, (as the ignorant masses seem to do so easily) and simply get on with the exercise of living, we can at least die knowing we didn't live pursuing futility.
I think I overused the word existence. Oh well, that's ok if it is intentional, ne? Well that brings us up to 755. Took a little break there. You know, the Mrs brings back an 18 pack of beer & a bottle of wine, puts none in the fridge, then I discover it was warm beer to begin with? Who in their right mind gets the 18 pack of warm beer, when there's refrigerated beer a few aisles away. Someone that isn't drinking the beer. That's just thoughtless. Then, because she's already kind of aggravated, I try to tell her she should get refrigerated beer, and she blows up in my face. I tell you, well I was about to make a comment about a particular race being fiery, but I guess this is still a class blog and not my internal thought process, so I'll abstain in the interests of not offending anyone. Eight hundred and ninety two words. So I have a pet bird, a ring neck parrot, and when we argue she starts screaming. It's good practice for children really - we have to not argue in front of the bird, or we get our ears fucked. That's what I like to call loud invasive noises - ear rape! I had a birthday party on the weekend, that worked out really well. Moriah (my fiancée) made lasagna & baked a cake, got a few bottles & a bunch of beer. Others brought beer as well, it ended up being a pretty quality party. Twenty-four now, jesus I feel old (Sorry Jason!) Alright, that's 1000 words right now.
A life without purpose. An existence without meaning. This is the conundrum that presents itself to any being that spends too much time wandering the plane of thought. All sentient beings wonder, at one point in their lives or another, why they exist. To what purpose they, as an individual, as a civilization, and as a species exist. Many accept the ready-made answer of a God, be he a benevolent Father figure or an omnipotent being to be appeased. To those though who are dissatisfied with another's answer and wish to seek their own, the nagging question of "Why?" persists. At this point though, two paths of thought present themselves, or at least two stand out from the crowd of potential ideas. The first is that there is no answer, that we exist in a Universe without purpose or direction, and that once the energies that animate all existence around us have burned out there will be nothing left. The cosmic accident that is existence will have ended. The second idea offers a little more comfort, to those that know how to seek it. Why? can be answered with the question, Why not? Existence, life, and being are the answers to their own question. Life exists simply because it can, and in the execution of our lives from birth to death we fulfill the only purpose we ever had; to live. For many this is the most terrifying idea of all; That there is no destination to life, other than death. We run our course, and then we're done and it is another's turn at existence. In this idea though, humanity can find the only true freedom we'll ever know. If we, the intellectuals of our race, can disconnect ourselves from the nagging questions of How, Why, and Who, (as the ignorant masses seem to do so easily) and simply get on with the exercise of living, we can at least die knowing we didn't live pursuing futility.
I think I overused the word existence. Oh well, that's ok if it is intentional, ne? Well that brings us up to 755. Took a little break there. You know, the Mrs brings back an 18 pack of beer & a bottle of wine, puts none in the fridge, then I discover it was warm beer to begin with? Who in their right mind gets the 18 pack of warm beer, when there's refrigerated beer a few aisles away. Someone that isn't drinking the beer. That's just thoughtless. Then, because she's already kind of aggravated, I try to tell her she should get refrigerated beer, and she blows up in my face. I tell you, well I was about to make a comment about a particular race being fiery, but I guess this is still a class blog and not my internal thought process, so I'll abstain in the interests of not offending anyone. Eight hundred and ninety two words. So I have a pet bird, a ring neck parrot, and when we argue she starts screaming. It's good practice for children really - we have to not argue in front of the bird, or we get our ears fucked. That's what I like to call loud invasive noises - ear rape! I had a birthday party on the weekend, that worked out really well. Moriah (my fiancée) made lasagna & baked a cake, got a few bottles & a bunch of beer. Others brought beer as well, it ended up being a pretty quality party. Twenty-four now, jesus I feel old (Sorry Jason!) Alright, that's 1000 words right now.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Studio@620 Blog #2
Tried to post this last night, didn't go up for some reason, hopefully will now.
Blog #2 - So, today kids we'll have the story of my first day volunteering @ the Studio. I spent several hours battling injustice, and slaying a dragon of metal and rubber. You see, located convinently next to the Studio @ 620 is a parking lot which, any logical observer would assume is for the studio itself. Alas, it is not. The lot is owned by the buildings across the street, one half owned by an apartment complex and the other rented out space by space. So even though when parking here you are literally looking through the window of the Studio @ 620, no one is permitted to park there. The owners of the lot apparently have a contract with a local tow company, and they patrol the area like sharks circling. Apparently the mean tow time for cars parking in that lot is 5 minutes. It's a proverbial honey pot for tow...guys. Towers? Here is a form of life one step DOWN from meter maids, on the level of speed-trap-police. Someone whose well being and prosperity is intrinsically tied to the misfortune and detriment of others. If he doesn't ruin your day, his day is wrecked. Someone whose JOB it is to drive around screwing people over.
Anyway, I arrived @ The Studio and, ironically enough, parked my car in the lot. I was warned that even if you are with your car, the tow driver can (And has) park behind you, and demand $50 to move. They're practically highway men! I went inside, and as informed I was to relieve the young man who I had just been speaking to. I also learned that I was only really needed for an hour or so, but upon asking I was told I could stay longer if I wished. Since I'm trying to rack up hours as quickly as possible, I decided to stay the entire four hour period. However, there was no where to sit out there, and it was rapidly growing dark. The task was primarily just standing there, waiting for people to drive in, walking up to their windows and telling them they couldn't park there. Mundane, but nothing terrible if you had a book and a seat. I did have a book, but I lacked a chair or a light by which to read. So, I decided I'd park my car there, both for the light and somewhere to sit. I left myself what I thought was enough room in front that even if the tow truck did pull up behind me, I could still pull forward.
Sadly, I was mistaken. An hour in and I'm telling a woman she can't park, in comes the tow truck. I bolt back to my car, and in a panic pull it forward to get out of the lot via my planned escape route. Slam, crash, scrape. Think Adam West Batman sound effect screens on that. SLAM! CRASH! SCRAAAAPE! Long story short, I scraped the shit out of my car. It was less than ideal.
Then the volunteer I relieved earlier comes out, and apparently he's an advocate of murder for (did we decide Towers earlier?) tow-people. He proceeds to run a 40 minute long hypothetical on the tow guy where he insists he (since his sister is a lawyer!) could win a court case against the tow company for boxing my car in. The entire thing was surreal, I kind of felt "Ok, could both of you go back to doing your jobs so I can go back to doing mine?" Of course with a tow truck parked in the lot no one needed to be notified that they couldn't park there. The tower had other plans though, and took the time to survey the damage to my car, to defend his position and profession, to debate with the other volunteer... I think we saved someone else $150 just by chatting with that tower. Apparently Towers Take Their Time, and that's today's alliteration.
A few interesting points : I was given a job which would be better served by a well-placed sign.
I ended up getting scolded by Winnie for the volunteer that came out to talk to the tow truck driver. Apparently she "needed him urgently" but he was "Dealing with my situation." Apparently dealing with my situation involves engaging the tow truck driver in passive-aggressive conversation for 30+ minutes.
The car wasn't mine, it was my mother's SUV which I was borrowing to get to class earlier since my fiancee was stuck late at work with ours. So to make it all worse, it wasn't even my POS Volvo that got dented/scraped, it was my mother's nice SUV.
And the lesson? Next time, I'm bringing a chair and a flashlight(/ebook reader/game system/battery powered lantern. Seriously, I got this sweet lantern for like $4. Viva the internet!)
Man, getting to 1000 words is a pain sometimes. That's 838. So I went to Wal-Mart, bought a buffer, some buffing compound, took my mom's car and buffed/shined/waxed the whole thing up. The ironic thing is that my mother had already dented the other side of her car, but my new dent was perfectly parallel to the old one. No way to claim them as one accident on insurance. For a brief moment when I saw the dent I rejoiced, thinking I'd damaged the car over the old damage, but no. Opposite sides. So with the car completely cleaned (my mother's a little messy with it), everything shined up, some "new car smell" sprayed, mostly as a joke, I returned the car. It was less than ideal, but I wasn't murdered, so that's good. Oh, also, when I was driving back on the interstate some plastic body piece over the wheel flew up, I had to pull over to the side of the road and reattach it. It's kind of torn but I'm going to get some new clips for it, and maybe with a little glue restore that. Finally over 1000 words, goodnight everyone!
Blog #2 - So, today kids we'll have the story of my first day volunteering @ the Studio. I spent several hours battling injustice, and slaying a dragon of metal and rubber. You see, located convinently next to the Studio @ 620 is a parking lot which, any logical observer would assume is for the studio itself. Alas, it is not. The lot is owned by the buildings across the street, one half owned by an apartment complex and the other rented out space by space. So even though when parking here you are literally looking through the window of the Studio @ 620, no one is permitted to park there. The owners of the lot apparently have a contract with a local tow company, and they patrol the area like sharks circling. Apparently the mean tow time for cars parking in that lot is 5 minutes. It's a proverbial honey pot for tow...guys. Towers? Here is a form of life one step DOWN from meter maids, on the level of speed-trap-police. Someone whose well being and prosperity is intrinsically tied to the misfortune and detriment of others. If he doesn't ruin your day, his day is wrecked. Someone whose JOB it is to drive around screwing people over.
Anyway, I arrived @ The Studio and, ironically enough, parked my car in the lot. I was warned that even if you are with your car, the tow driver can (And has) park behind you, and demand $50 to move. They're practically highway men! I went inside, and as informed I was to relieve the young man who I had just been speaking to. I also learned that I was only really needed for an hour or so, but upon asking I was told I could stay longer if I wished. Since I'm trying to rack up hours as quickly as possible, I decided to stay the entire four hour period. However, there was no where to sit out there, and it was rapidly growing dark. The task was primarily just standing there, waiting for people to drive in, walking up to their windows and telling them they couldn't park there. Mundane, but nothing terrible if you had a book and a seat. I did have a book, but I lacked a chair or a light by which to read. So, I decided I'd park my car there, both for the light and somewhere to sit. I left myself what I thought was enough room in front that even if the tow truck did pull up behind me, I could still pull forward.
Sadly, I was mistaken. An hour in and I'm telling a woman she can't park, in comes the tow truck. I bolt back to my car, and in a panic pull it forward to get out of the lot via my planned escape route. Slam, crash, scrape. Think Adam West Batman sound effect screens on that. SLAM! CRASH! SCRAAAAPE! Long story short, I scraped the shit out of my car. It was less than ideal.
Then the volunteer I relieved earlier comes out, and apparently he's an advocate of murder for (did we decide Towers earlier?) tow-people. He proceeds to run a 40 minute long hypothetical on the tow guy where he insists he (since his sister is a lawyer!) could win a court case against the tow company for boxing my car in. The entire thing was surreal, I kind of felt "Ok, could both of you go back to doing your jobs so I can go back to doing mine?" Of course with a tow truck parked in the lot no one needed to be notified that they couldn't park there. The tower had other plans though, and took the time to survey the damage to my car, to defend his position and profession, to debate with the other volunteer... I think we saved someone else $150 just by chatting with that tower. Apparently Towers Take Their Time, and that's today's alliteration.
A few interesting points : I was given a job which would be better served by a well-placed sign.
I ended up getting scolded by Winnie for the volunteer that came out to talk to the tow truck driver. Apparently she "needed him urgently" but he was "Dealing with my situation." Apparently dealing with my situation involves engaging the tow truck driver in passive-aggressive conversation for 30+ minutes.
The car wasn't mine, it was my mother's SUV which I was borrowing to get to class earlier since my fiancee was stuck late at work with ours. So to make it all worse, it wasn't even my POS Volvo that got dented/scraped, it was my mother's nice SUV.
And the lesson? Next time, I'm bringing a chair and a flashlight(/ebook reader/game system/battery powered lantern. Seriously, I got this sweet lantern for like $4. Viva the internet!)
Man, getting to 1000 words is a pain sometimes. That's 838. So I went to Wal-Mart, bought a buffer, some buffing compound, took my mom's car and buffed/shined/waxed the whole thing up. The ironic thing is that my mother had already dented the other side of her car, but my new dent was perfectly parallel to the old one. No way to claim them as one accident on insurance. For a brief moment when I saw the dent I rejoiced, thinking I'd damaged the car over the old damage, but no. Opposite sides. So with the car completely cleaned (my mother's a little messy with it), everything shined up, some "new car smell" sprayed, mostly as a joke, I returned the car. It was less than ideal, but I wasn't murdered, so that's good. Oh, also, when I was driving back on the interstate some plastic body piece over the wheel flew up, I had to pull over to the side of the road and reattach it. It's kind of torn but I'm going to get some new clips for it, and maybe with a little glue restore that. Finally over 1000 words, goodnight everyone!
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