Friday, December 18, 2015
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
Tuesday, November 17, 2015
Monday, November 16, 2015
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
Tuesday, October 27, 2015
Friday, September 25, 2015
Frida
Read this post on Facebook the other day, and it struck a chord. Not only was Frida a talented visual artist, she could write like a muthertrucker.
Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell
leaving is not enough; you must
stay gone. train your heart
like a dog. change the locks
even on the house he’s never
visited. you lucky, lucky girl.
you have an apartment
just your size. a bathtub
full of tea. a heart the size
of Arizona, but not nearly
so arid. don’t wish away
your cracked past, your
crooked toes, your problems
are papier mache puppets
you made or bought because the vendor
at the market was so compelling you just
had to have them. you had to have him.
and you did. and now you pull down
the bridge between your houses.
you make him call before
he visits. you take a lover
for granted, you take
a lover who looks at you
like maybe you are magic. make
the first bottle you consume
in this place a relic. place it
on whatever altar you fashion
with a knife and five cranberries.
don’t lose too much weight.
stupid girls are always trying
to disappear as revenge. and you
are not stupid. you loved a man
with more hands than a parade
of beggars, and here you stand. heart
like a four-poster bed. heart like a canvas.
heart leaking something so strong
they can smell it in the street.
Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell
leaving is not enough; you must
stay gone. train your heart
like a dog. change the locks
even on the house he’s never
visited. you lucky, lucky girl.
you have an apartment
just your size. a bathtub
full of tea. a heart the size
of Arizona, but not nearly
so arid. don’t wish away
your cracked past, your
crooked toes, your problems
are papier mache puppets
you made or bought because the vendor
at the market was so compelling you just
had to have them. you had to have him.
and you did. and now you pull down
the bridge between your houses.
you make him call before
he visits. you take a lover
for granted, you take
a lover who looks at you
like maybe you are magic. make
the first bottle you consume
in this place a relic. place it
on whatever altar you fashion
with a knife and five cranberries.
don’t lose too much weight.
stupid girls are always trying
to disappear as revenge. and you
are not stupid. you loved a man
with more hands than a parade
of beggars, and here you stand. heart
like a four-poster bed. heart like a canvas.
heart leaking something so strong
they can smell it in the street.
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
Friday, September 4, 2015
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
Monday, August 10, 2015
Jessica Lea Mayfield - For Today
One of the best raw female vocalists I've heard since Hope Sandoval. I absolutely LOVE this song.
Thursday, August 6, 2015
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
Thursday, July 16, 2015
Blue October - "Not Broken Anymore"
I love this song, and during parts of it, I can't help but hear the vocal similarity to Peter Gabriel. Amazing.
Tuesday, July 7, 2015
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
That Wasn't Me - Brandi Carlile
Hang on, just hang on for a minute
I've got something to say
I'm not asking you to move on or forget it
But these are better days
I've got something to say
I'm not asking you to move on or forget it
But these are better days
To be wrong all along and admit it is not amazing grace
But to be loved like a song you remember
Even when you've changed
Tell me...
Did I go on a tangent?
Did I lie through my teeth?
Did I cause you to stumble on your feet?
Did I bring shame on my family?
Did it show when I was weak?
Whatever you've seen, that wasn't me
That wasn't me. Oh, that wasn't me.
Did I go on a tangent?
Did I lie through my teeth?
Did I cause you to stumble on your feet?
Did I bring shame on my family?
Did it show when I was weak?
Whatever you've seen, that wasn't me
That wasn't me. Oh, that wasn't me.
When you're lost you will toss every lucky coin you'll ever trust
And you'll hide from your god like he ever turns his back on us
And you'll fall all the way to the bottom and land on your own knife
But you'll learn who you are even if it doesn't take your life
And you'll hide from your god like he ever turns his back on us
And you'll fall all the way to the bottom and land on your own knife
But you'll learn who you are even if it doesn't take your life
Tell me...
Did I go on a tangent?
Did I lie through my teeth?
Did I cause you to stumble on your feet?
Did I bring shame on my family?
Did it show when I was weak?
Whatever you've seen, that wasn't me
That wasn't me. No, that wasn't me
Did I go on a tangent?
Did I lie through my teeth?
Did I cause you to stumble on your feet?
Did I bring shame on my family?
Did it show when I was weak?
Whatever you've seen, that wasn't me
That wasn't me. No, that wasn't me
But I want you to know that you'll never be alone.
I wanna believe.
I wanna believe.
Do I make myself a blessing to everyone I meet?
When you fall I will get you on your feet
Do I spend time with my family?
Does it show when I am weak?
When that's what you see, that will be me
That will be me, that will be me
That will be me
When you fall I will get you on your feet
Do I spend time with my family?
Does it show when I am weak?
When that's what you see, that will be me
That will be me, that will be me
That will be me
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
Sunday, June 7, 2015
Restoration update
My buddy Dan and I have been restoring a 1962 Ducati Monza Junior that had been sitting in a farmer's field for decades. We finally have the engine back.
Here are the results:
Saturday, June 6, 2015
Hindsight
When your mind wants to bolt, but your heart hangs on, it is because you don’t know with absolute certainty what the truth is. When you waste so much time on something that you want to believe is true, you begin to overthink things. Eventually, something obvious becomes twisted into something absurd, which keeps us from believing a simpler answer. Over time, you believe your own lies and fantasies to shield yourself from hurt, when following what is logical would have been the quickest way to healing. It is through your own self-imposed delusions that you lose your perspective. The world then becomes different to you when in fact you are different. Why? Because your own ego gets in the way. Everyone wants to feel special. Everyone wants to have faith in others. Everyone wants to believe in fairytales, happy endings and have all bad interactions with others explained. It is easier to sit in denial with your delusions and pray God will intervene, not realizing he has. He gave you commonsense and intuition, but you didn’t like how it made you feel. This is what true mental illness really is: Following your gut instinct through hell because you want to prove you are right, either to yourself or others. You sacrifice choosing to do right, in order to avoid pain. However, you don't realize that you have been in pain for a really long time and believed this was how happiness felt.
Monday, June 1, 2015
Friday, May 29, 2015
Wisdom
"When two people meet, each one is changed by the other so you got two new people. Maybe that means — hell, it's complicated."
-J. Steinbeck
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
21 Reasons I’m Tired Of Hearing About Introverts
Oh, God....this is too spot-on!
By: Chelsea Fagan
1. We get it, you are a big part of society.
2. You enjoy making web comics and articles and cheeky image macros about the actual, textbook definition of introversion. (You’re not all shy! You draw your energy from being alone, like a battery recharging!)
3. Often the discourse on “introversion” tiptoes around “we’re not like other people, we sip tea and read quietly in the corner and speak about relationships in elaborate metaphor.”
4. Don’t deny it, you guys absolutely do that shit.
5. It makes it sound like people who are “extroverted” are these soulless, scrap metal-chewing machines who will cease to exist unless we are doing body shots at a party and inviting people to come over so that we don’t have to hear the sound of our own thoughts.
6. It’s like we’re sharks — if we don’t stop moving, we’ll die.
7. But I digress.
8. Extroverts are not like that. Extroverts, like most normal human beings, are just looking to form human connections and draw energy from the world around them. We happen to do this through social communication, but a lot of us are more than capable of being alone for extended periods of time.
9. Yes, some of us even read John Green books by our windowsill whilst sipping English Breakfast tea and thinking about the things we’re going to reblog to our Tumblrs later that afternoon.
10. Introversion has become a “thing” on the internet, an identity that people go out of their way to take pride in and make condescending Power Point presentations about, because we all need to be told why it’s hard for you to make conversation at parties.
11. Plot twist: It’s hard for everyone to make small talk at parties. Small talk blows, and having to pretend to care about your friend’s friend’s brother’s new apartment is enough to drain anyone’s Social Activity Batteries.
12. There are difficult things about being an extrovert, like people assuming you’re constantly hitting on them, or that you can’t stand to be by yourself, or that you’re vapid.
13. But it’s not oppressive.
14. And neither is being an introvert, but often we use the struggles introverts face as a good excuse for them to be outright unkind to, or inconsiderate of, other people. (And don’t you deny that shit, either, you know you guys are constantly talking about why you shouldn’t have to be expected to call people back or show up to things.)
15. And frankly, if it’s an aspect of your personality that you hold onto that firmly, I highly recommend investing in actual personality traits, such as “sense of humor” or “good listener,” or even just “makes a pretty good frittata.”
16. We have all heard and read and seen so much about introversion over the past year or so that I think we’ve all become finally numb to it, and have expanded our definition of it so much that anyone who is not at this very moment performing a cabaret show is considered introverted.
17. In truth, most of us fall somewhere in the middle of that spectrum, and have days where we err to one side or the other. I’m as extroverted as you can get, but I have entire weeks where I just want to stay at home and watch Netflix and cry while thinking about the raindrops (they are the clouds’ babies!!!).
18. But this doesn’t fit so nicely into a comic about personality types.
19. The point is that we should all be happy being multi-faceted, and exploring the possibilities of our social lives. We should spend time taking care of ourselves, and taking care of the people we love (or the people we haven’t even met yet).
20. And even if you are a #RideOrDieIntrovert, calm down. We get it. You aren’t good at introducing yourself to new groups of people, and you really like being under blankets.
21. So did my dog, though, and if she could talk, she would say that you’re being pretentious assholes.
By: Chelsea Fagan
1. We get it, you are a big part of society.
2. You enjoy making web comics and articles and cheeky image macros about the actual, textbook definition of introversion. (You’re not all shy! You draw your energy from being alone, like a battery recharging!)
3. Often the discourse on “introversion” tiptoes around “we’re not like other people, we sip tea and read quietly in the corner and speak about relationships in elaborate metaphor.”
4. Don’t deny it, you guys absolutely do that shit.
5. It makes it sound like people who are “extroverted” are these soulless, scrap metal-chewing machines who will cease to exist unless we are doing body shots at a party and inviting people to come over so that we don’t have to hear the sound of our own thoughts.
6. It’s like we’re sharks — if we don’t stop moving, we’ll die.
7. But I digress.
8. Extroverts are not like that. Extroverts, like most normal human beings, are just looking to form human connections and draw energy from the world around them. We happen to do this through social communication, but a lot of us are more than capable of being alone for extended periods of time.
9. Yes, some of us even read John Green books by our windowsill whilst sipping English Breakfast tea and thinking about the things we’re going to reblog to our Tumblrs later that afternoon.
10. Introversion has become a “thing” on the internet, an identity that people go out of their way to take pride in and make condescending Power Point presentations about, because we all need to be told why it’s hard for you to make conversation at parties.
11. Plot twist: It’s hard for everyone to make small talk at parties. Small talk blows, and having to pretend to care about your friend’s friend’s brother’s new apartment is enough to drain anyone’s Social Activity Batteries.
12. There are difficult things about being an extrovert, like people assuming you’re constantly hitting on them, or that you can’t stand to be by yourself, or that you’re vapid.
13. But it’s not oppressive.
14. And neither is being an introvert, but often we use the struggles introverts face as a good excuse for them to be outright unkind to, or inconsiderate of, other people. (And don’t you deny that shit, either, you know you guys are constantly talking about why you shouldn’t have to be expected to call people back or show up to things.)
15. And frankly, if it’s an aspect of your personality that you hold onto that firmly, I highly recommend investing in actual personality traits, such as “sense of humor” or “good listener,” or even just “makes a pretty good frittata.”
16. We have all heard and read and seen so much about introversion over the past year or so that I think we’ve all become finally numb to it, and have expanded our definition of it so much that anyone who is not at this very moment performing a cabaret show is considered introverted.
17. In truth, most of us fall somewhere in the middle of that spectrum, and have days where we err to one side or the other. I’m as extroverted as you can get, but I have entire weeks where I just want to stay at home and watch Netflix and cry while thinking about the raindrops (they are the clouds’ babies!!!).
18. But this doesn’t fit so nicely into a comic about personality types.
19. The point is that we should all be happy being multi-faceted, and exploring the possibilities of our social lives. We should spend time taking care of ourselves, and taking care of the people we love (or the people we haven’t even met yet).
20. And even if you are a #RideOrDieIntrovert, calm down. We get it. You aren’t good at introducing yourself to new groups of people, and you really like being under blankets.
21. So did my dog, though, and if she could talk, she would say that you’re being pretentious assholes.
Friday, May 22, 2015
...more Steinbeck
"How I would love to take a holiday just with you. It’s been forever.”
“We’re short on unattached elderly female relatives. Put your mind to it. If only we could can them or salt or pickle them for a little while. Mary, madonna, put your mind to it. I ache to be alone with you in a strange place. We could walk the dunes and swim naked at night and I would tousle you in a fern bed.”
“Darling, I know, darling. I know it’s been hard on you . Don’t think I don’t know.”
“Well, hold me close. Let’s think of some way.”
Awakening to Mary
"I turned my head to Mary, sleeping and smiling on my right. That is her place so that, when it is good and right and ready, she can shelter her head on my right arm, leaving my left hand free for caressing.
A few days before, I snicked my forefinger with the curved banana knife at the store, and a callusy scab toughened the ball of my fingertip. And so I stroked the lovely line from ear to shoulder with my second finger but gently enough not to startle and firmly enough not to tickle. She sighed as she always does, a deep, gathered breath and a low release of luxury. Some people resent awakening, but not Mary. She comes to a day with expectancy that it will be good. And, knowing this, I try to offer some small gift to justify her conviction. And I try to hold back gifts for occasions, such as the one I now produced from my mind’s purse."
A few days before, I snicked my forefinger with the curved banana knife at the store, and a callusy scab toughened the ball of my fingertip. And so I stroked the lovely line from ear to shoulder with my second finger but gently enough not to startle and firmly enough not to tickle. She sighed as she always does, a deep, gathered breath and a low release of luxury. Some people resent awakening, but not Mary. She comes to a day with expectancy that it will be good. And, knowing this, I try to offer some small gift to justify her conviction. And I try to hold back gifts for occasions, such as the one I now produced from my mind’s purse."
Thursday, May 21, 2015
Found on a writing forum. So well-written!!
I am not simple or easy to understand. I cannot give you straight answers to your questions about me because I do not know the answers. I am complex, philosophical, dualistic in my thinking. I do not like to be labeled, boxed up, frozen in time. I need movement, freedom to explore, to be curious and to change my mind. Countless times.
My mind and my heart are two separate entities. Like brother and sister—they tease each other, fight each other, confide in one another and look out for one another. Most of the time, they confuse the hell out of each other. My mind is strong, logical, able to see every situation from every perspective.
My heart is weak, irrational, blind-sided often. But it is my heart that I trust the most. Even when it leads me down paths of heart-ache and destruction. I value the path of my heart. For my heart is connected to my soul. And my soul must travel a winding path of ups and downs.
Yes, I can be easy-going, playful, fun to be around. I find happiness in the warmth of the sun, the energy of the moon, and the interaction between the two. I love the feeling of being with people I love and trust. I love being outdoors, in nature, in the wild. I love waking up with you in my bed, with your arms wrapped around me, your fingers interlocked with mine. This is why you think you’re interested.
I love, deeply. With all my heart. You see, there are places in my heart that are taken up by past lovers and places. There are spaces in my heart that are filled with the notion of future lovers and future places. There are parts of my heart that are filled with my growing love for myself. My love for the moon. My love for emotions and uncertainty. There is very little room in my heart for you.
And yet here you are. You intrigue me. I find myself wanting to get to know you better, wanting to find new places in my heart for you. As others have, maybe you will find a temporary place in my heart. Like a vacation, to the sunny beaches of Hawaii. Where the air is moist, and the waves crash along the beach.
You will find joy and happiness here, and then you will leave. Not because you want to, but because my heart no longer wants your physical body there. It will only want the lingering and bittersweet memory of you. Enough for me to hold on to you forever, but not enough for you to stay. This is what has happened many times before.
But maybe, my heart will not want you to leave. Maybe my heart has a place for you to call home. A place where we can learn and grow, together. Fall in love with places, together. Watch the moon, together.
So, I send you this as a warning, and as an invitation, to get to know me better. For you to know that I feel a connection to those who have come before you, and to those who will hypothetically come after. Because my heart has a huge capacity to love and my mind has the tendency to dream. But this is who I am, today, in this moment. For how long, I do not know. So for now, I say goodnight to you, goodnight to my sleepless mind, goodnight to my weary heart, and most of all, goodnight to the moon.
I am not simple or easy to understand. I cannot give you straight answers to your questions about me because I do not know the answers. I am complex, philosophical, dualistic in my thinking. I do not like to be labeled, boxed up, frozen in time. I need movement, freedom to explore, to be curious and to change my mind. Countless times.
My mind and my heart are two separate entities. Like brother and sister—they tease each other, fight each other, confide in one another and look out for one another. Most of the time, they confuse the hell out of each other. My mind is strong, logical, able to see every situation from every perspective.
My heart is weak, irrational, blind-sided often. But it is my heart that I trust the most. Even when it leads me down paths of heart-ache and destruction. I value the path of my heart. For my heart is connected to my soul. And my soul must travel a winding path of ups and downs.
Yes, I can be easy-going, playful, fun to be around. I find happiness in the warmth of the sun, the energy of the moon, and the interaction between the two. I love the feeling of being with people I love and trust. I love being outdoors, in nature, in the wild. I love waking up with you in my bed, with your arms wrapped around me, your fingers interlocked with mine. This is why you think you’re interested.
I love, deeply. With all my heart. You see, there are places in my heart that are taken up by past lovers and places. There are spaces in my heart that are filled with the notion of future lovers and future places. There are parts of my heart that are filled with my growing love for myself. My love for the moon. My love for emotions and uncertainty. There is very little room in my heart for you.
And yet here you are. You intrigue me. I find myself wanting to get to know you better, wanting to find new places in my heart for you. As others have, maybe you will find a temporary place in my heart. Like a vacation, to the sunny beaches of Hawaii. Where the air is moist, and the waves crash along the beach.
You will find joy and happiness here, and then you will leave. Not because you want to, but because my heart no longer wants your physical body there. It will only want the lingering and bittersweet memory of you. Enough for me to hold on to you forever, but not enough for you to stay. This is what has happened many times before.
But maybe, my heart will not want you to leave. Maybe my heart has a place for you to call home. A place where we can learn and grow, together. Fall in love with places, together. Watch the moon, together.
So, I send you this as a warning, and as an invitation, to get to know me better. For you to know that I feel a connection to those who have come before you, and to those who will hypothetically come after. Because my heart has a huge capacity to love and my mind has the tendency to dream. But this is who I am, today, in this moment. For how long, I do not know. So for now, I say goodnight to you, goodnight to my sleepless mind, goodnight to my weary heart, and most of all, goodnight to the moon.
Wednesday, May 20, 2015
Monday, May 18, 2015
She was laughing her lovely trill, something that raises goose lumps of pleasure on my soul.
“Hurry home, darling,” she said. “Hurry home.”
And how’s that for a man to have! When I hung up, I stood by the phone all weak and leaky and happy if there is such a condition. I tried to think how it had been before Mary, and I couldn't remember, or how it would be without her, and I could not imagine it except that it would be a condition bordered in black. I guess everyone at some time or other writes his epitaph.
“Hurry home, darling,” she said. “Hurry home.”
And how’s that for a man to have! When I hung up, I stood by the phone all weak and leaky and happy if there is such a condition. I tried to think how it had been before Mary, and I couldn't remember, or how it would be without her, and I could not imagine it except that it would be a condition bordered in black. I guess everyone at some time or other writes his epitaph.
Thursday, May 14, 2015
“Margie had known many men, most of them guilty, wounded in their vanity, or despairing, so that she had developed a contempt for her quarry as a professional hunter of vermin does. It was easy to move such men through their fears and their vanities. They ached so to be fooled that she no longer felt triumph--only a kind of disgusted pity.”
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
Friday, March 20, 2015
Spring
It's spring. Finally.
I've got a few minutes to spare before I begin my weekend, so I thought I'd jot a few things down. I've had a rough week. Not with my job or personal relationships, but politically. Yeah. Politically this week sucked ass.
I needed to just clear my mind today, so a friend and I walked down State Street to enjoy the beautiful weather. We stopped in at Exclusive Company, and I walked out with the Pretenders 5 CD box set and the new Count This Penny album. Gotta tell you, I loves me some Chrissie Hynde. One song in particular has reinvigorated my interest in the Pretenders. Here's the video:
I discovered about a month ago that my MP3 collection lacked any substantial Pretenders tunes. That's just not right. So -- issue corrected. And -- come on. That video rocks. You can see how much fun they're having just jamming together. Look at the frame at 1:04. Pete Farndon give the camera a creepy staredown.
I've taken the motorcycle out a few times already. Man, I cannot wait until that is a regular occurrance. There's just something about being on two wheels that puts my heart and mind at ease.
Ever feel like you've been very close to the pinnacle of happiness only to find yourself about as far away from it as possible a short while later? Yeah. Me too.
Happy spring. Peace out.
I've got a few minutes to spare before I begin my weekend, so I thought I'd jot a few things down. I've had a rough week. Not with my job or personal relationships, but politically. Yeah. Politically this week sucked ass.
I needed to just clear my mind today, so a friend and I walked down State Street to enjoy the beautiful weather. We stopped in at Exclusive Company, and I walked out with the Pretenders 5 CD box set and the new Count This Penny album. Gotta tell you, I loves me some Chrissie Hynde. One song in particular has reinvigorated my interest in the Pretenders. Here's the video:
I discovered about a month ago that my MP3 collection lacked any substantial Pretenders tunes. That's just not right. So -- issue corrected. And -- come on. That video rocks. You can see how much fun they're having just jamming together. Look at the frame at 1:04. Pete Farndon give the camera a creepy staredown.
I've taken the motorcycle out a few times already. Man, I cannot wait until that is a regular occurrance. There's just something about being on two wheels that puts my heart and mind at ease.
Ever feel like you've been very close to the pinnacle of happiness only to find yourself about as far away from it as possible a short while later? Yeah. Me too.
Happy spring. Peace out.
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Hard to understand sometimes...
So, I kind of have a routine.
I wake up in the morning. I go to work. I do a lot of "computery stuff". At 5PM, I start my commute back to Columbus. On my ride home, I frequently call my dad to talk about the politics of the day. Last night, we got into some murky territory where our philosophies are starkly different.
I've always considered my father to be a progressive. Almost in a militant way, which is nice. But when you enter into a conversation with him regarding education, things start to get weird. My dad is not different than a lot of men from his generation. Access to higher education was reserved for old money. It was a distinguishing attribute that separated the "haves" from the "have-nots". Nothing drew more attention to income inequality than one's access to higher education.
Then came the Vietnam War. This only reinforced my dad's resentment for the affluent. He saw it as a means to shelter the wealthy from their duty to serve their country. That...somehow, because of their wealth, their lives were more valuable than someone who couldn't get a college deferment due to their inability to afford higher education. It wasn't fair. At this point, we are on the same page.
If you venture down the path of "teachers" with my dad, you will inevitably uncover his disdain for them. He probably wouldn't be that explicit about it, but he doesn't have the luxury of writing this blog. He doesn't like them. He never has. I remember him making comments about the teachers I had in high school, expressing his inability to put up with the airs that some of them put on. He felt that they looked down their noses at non-teachers, and that somehow, they were a cut above. Again -- for him -- this is, at the root, a problem with social class, not with teaching (per se).
Talk about the income of 1st grade teacher, and you will run headfirst into a wall of irrationality. HIS problem, as he articulates it, is that a person teaching first grade DOES NOT need a master's degree, and that just by holding that degree does not entitle them to twice the income of a similar educator WITHOUT a master's. He feels that it's entirely UNNECESSARY to have that level of education to teach a bunch of 6 year-olds. The insinuation he makes, without actually articulating it, is that addition and subtraction, the alphabet, and penmanship do not require more than 2 years of post-high school education. Further, that by becoming "career students", they are falsely inflating the value that they bring to the student and the community. I disagree entirely. First, I personally would never besmirch a professional that continually sharpens their skills to increase their take-home pay. A first grade teacher doesn't go back to school every summer to learn about new breakthroughs in arithmetic -- they go back to be better educators. In doing so, they should be compensated, and I disagree that "the value isn't realized at that grade level". Disagree WHOLEHEARTEDLY. That's where I want the most enthusiastic and passionate people to be. I want them to instill the best habits and skills early on...to connect with them at THAT age. I don't want someone to reach a ceiling of $37,000 without any incentive to improve. That's just bad policy, and the quality of students would reflect that.
The bottom line is that guys like my dad place very little value on educators at that level. Now, you discuss Scott Walker and Act 10, and he takes a different tone. THAT'S about collective bargaining, and you'll never find him arguing against one's right to leverage their labor against their employer. Never. Even for teachers.
But he still hates teachers.
It's weird.
I wake up in the morning. I go to work. I do a lot of "computery stuff". At 5PM, I start my commute back to Columbus. On my ride home, I frequently call my dad to talk about the politics of the day. Last night, we got into some murky territory where our philosophies are starkly different.
I've always considered my father to be a progressive. Almost in a militant way, which is nice. But when you enter into a conversation with him regarding education, things start to get weird. My dad is not different than a lot of men from his generation. Access to higher education was reserved for old money. It was a distinguishing attribute that separated the "haves" from the "have-nots". Nothing drew more attention to income inequality than one's access to higher education.
Then came the Vietnam War. This only reinforced my dad's resentment for the affluent. He saw it as a means to shelter the wealthy from their duty to serve their country. That...somehow, because of their wealth, their lives were more valuable than someone who couldn't get a college deferment due to their inability to afford higher education. It wasn't fair. At this point, we are on the same page.
If you venture down the path of "teachers" with my dad, you will inevitably uncover his disdain for them. He probably wouldn't be that explicit about it, but he doesn't have the luxury of writing this blog. He doesn't like them. He never has. I remember him making comments about the teachers I had in high school, expressing his inability to put up with the airs that some of them put on. He felt that they looked down their noses at non-teachers, and that somehow, they were a cut above. Again -- for him -- this is, at the root, a problem with social class, not with teaching (per se).
Talk about the income of 1st grade teacher, and you will run headfirst into a wall of irrationality. HIS problem, as he articulates it, is that a person teaching first grade DOES NOT need a master's degree, and that just by holding that degree does not entitle them to twice the income of a similar educator WITHOUT a master's. He feels that it's entirely UNNECESSARY to have that level of education to teach a bunch of 6 year-olds. The insinuation he makes, without actually articulating it, is that addition and subtraction, the alphabet, and penmanship do not require more than 2 years of post-high school education. Further, that by becoming "career students", they are falsely inflating the value that they bring to the student and the community. I disagree entirely. First, I personally would never besmirch a professional that continually sharpens their skills to increase their take-home pay. A first grade teacher doesn't go back to school every summer to learn about new breakthroughs in arithmetic -- they go back to be better educators. In doing so, they should be compensated, and I disagree that "the value isn't realized at that grade level". Disagree WHOLEHEARTEDLY. That's where I want the most enthusiastic and passionate people to be. I want them to instill the best habits and skills early on...to connect with them at THAT age. I don't want someone to reach a ceiling of $37,000 without any incentive to improve. That's just bad policy, and the quality of students would reflect that.
The bottom line is that guys like my dad place very little value on educators at that level. Now, you discuss Scott Walker and Act 10, and he takes a different tone. THAT'S about collective bargaining, and you'll never find him arguing against one's right to leverage their labor against their employer. Never. Even for teachers.
But he still hates teachers.
It's weird.
Monday, February 23, 2015
It's been a while since I have blogged, so I will indulge.
Went to Rock River Pizza Company on Saturday. Loved it. If you haven't tried it yet, take a road trip to Watertucky and give it a go. You'll be pleased. Not Faye's Pizza pleased, but pleased nonetheless.
My new favorite song. The sounds these guys make are incredible:
Lori and I watched a few movies over the weekend, and for the most part, they were rather good. We started off by watching Labor Day, starring Kate Winslet, Josh Brolin, and narrated by Toby Maguire. I had pretty low expectations, but I was rather pleased. The movie is about a woman whose husband ditched her for his secretary and left her heartbroken. Winslet's character became secluded and had given up on love altogether. Enter Josh Brolin, who plays a fugitive who has escaped prison while visiting the hospital to get his appendix removed. He takes refuge in Winslet's character's home where she resides with her son. I'll let you take it from there, but it was worth the time.
Next up was An Unfinished Life, with Morgan Freeman, Robert Redford, and Jennifer Lopez. I really liked this one. Lopez plays a widow, now in an abusive relationship, and escapes to Wyoming to live with her estranged father-in-law, played by Robert Redford. Jean's (Lopez) daughter is a stark reminder of the death of Einar's (Redford) son, tragically killed in an accident while Jean was at the wheel. Morgan Freeman (Mitch) plays a ranch hand opposite Redford that had been crippled by a bear attack while Redford's character was falling over drunk. This is an old storyline from Hollywood -- a jaded old man softened through his relationship with a child while being mentored by an old friend. Good flick.
I watched "Under The Skin". What a horrible film. Seriously. If all you care about is seeing Scarlett Johannson naked, well....then you're gonna love this movie. If you enjoy movies where the director actually lets you in on the plot without blatant attempts at mimicking Stanley Kubrick, then you'll think it sucks -- as I did. Fuck this film. Don't waste your time.
We're getting closer to opening the store. Should be in the next few months. That, along with our attempt at getting our dream home has kept us busy and nervous.
More later.
-Clark
Went to Rock River Pizza Company on Saturday. Loved it. If you haven't tried it yet, take a road trip to Watertucky and give it a go. You'll be pleased. Not Faye's Pizza pleased, but pleased nonetheless.
My new favorite song. The sounds these guys make are incredible:
Lori and I watched a few movies over the weekend, and for the most part, they were rather good. We started off by watching Labor Day, starring Kate Winslet, Josh Brolin, and narrated by Toby Maguire. I had pretty low expectations, but I was rather pleased. The movie is about a woman whose husband ditched her for his secretary and left her heartbroken. Winslet's character became secluded and had given up on love altogether. Enter Josh Brolin, who plays a fugitive who has escaped prison while visiting the hospital to get his appendix removed. He takes refuge in Winslet's character's home where she resides with her son. I'll let you take it from there, but it was worth the time.
Next up was An Unfinished Life, with Morgan Freeman, Robert Redford, and Jennifer Lopez. I really liked this one. Lopez plays a widow, now in an abusive relationship, and escapes to Wyoming to live with her estranged father-in-law, played by Robert Redford. Jean's (Lopez) daughter is a stark reminder of the death of Einar's (Redford) son, tragically killed in an accident while Jean was at the wheel. Morgan Freeman (Mitch) plays a ranch hand opposite Redford that had been crippled by a bear attack while Redford's character was falling over drunk. This is an old storyline from Hollywood -- a jaded old man softened through his relationship with a child while being mentored by an old friend. Good flick.
I watched "Under The Skin". What a horrible film. Seriously. If all you care about is seeing Scarlett Johannson naked, well....then you're gonna love this movie. If you enjoy movies where the director actually lets you in on the plot without blatant attempts at mimicking Stanley Kubrick, then you'll think it sucks -- as I did. Fuck this film. Don't waste your time.
We're getting closer to opening the store. Should be in the next few months. That, along with our attempt at getting our dream home has kept us busy and nervous.
More later.
-Clark
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
Monday, February 9, 2015
Mid Century Madness
Had a pretty good weekend.
Lori and I went out to the Old Rock on Friday night with Mr. Thom. It was a little weird in there that night. We sat down, and we waited at least 20 minutes before anybody even spoke to us. Granted, it was busy...but not that busy. The good news is that once we WERE finally waited on, I quickly forgot about the lack of attention earlier. One thing, though -- they need better beers out there. Only the Hopalicious appealed to me, but I don't like to drink that all the time. I tire of it rather quickly. After listening to countless country songs on the juke, we needed to get out of there. Too rural. ;-) Home by 10PM.
I headed over to Mr. Thom's place on Saturday morning to help him with his home network. He had some serious bandwidth issues over his WiFi connection. Not only was his signal being trounced by that of his neighbors, his equipment was almost a decade old. Using Speakeasy's website, we determined he was only getting about one-third of the possible bandwidth. We installed a WRT1900AC by Linksys. It was up and running within about 20 minutes, and the results were incredible. Excellent signal strength and fantastic throughput over WiFi. And now he's rockin' a Roku. How could life be any better?
Saturday night we met up with Niki, Miss Mommaerts and Jen. We hadn't gone out together for a while and it was nice to be able to catch up with them again. We ended up having a couple of brews at HSB, and then quickly migrated to the Black Kettle. I'm always surprised by the steaks out there. I'm not ready to render judgement on their food yet. I need more data.
Sunday was time to relax with smatterings of cleaning. Did laundry, cleaned the floors, took down a Christmas tree (don't fucking judge me), and cooked some spaghetti. Dudes -- lemme tell ya. I have the spaghetti sauce dialed in. Totally easy and it has HUGE flavor. Here's the dealio:
Clark's Spaghetti Sauce
2 green peppers (diced)
1 large white onion (diced)
3 28 oz cans of diced tomatoes
1 12 oz can of tomato paste
5 cloves of garlic
1.5 lbs of ground chuck
1.5 lbs of italian sausage
2 teaspoons oregano
2 teaspoons basil
2 teaspoons thyme
3 teaspoons sugar
1 tablespoon fennel seed
dash of chili pepper
sea salt and ground pepper to taste
Empty cans of diced tomatoes into large pot. Add tomato paste. Fill the empty can of tomato paste with water and add it to the pot. Mix in peppers, onions, garlic, oregano, basil, thyme, fennel seed, sugar and chili pepper. You only need to add about 2 teaspoons of chili pepper. If you add too much, you'll overpower it, so chill. Let simmer on medium-low heat. Stir occasionally.
The place should start smelling fucking fantastic.
Now you need to start on the meat. I brown it in an electric skillet just out of convenience. I mix the ground chuck and the italian sausage by hand in the skillet and then brown it over medium heat. I usually hover over the skillet and break up the large chunks of meat until I get it to the consistency that I want within the sauce. Drain and add to the sauce.
Add your salt and pepper. Taste as you go. It'll take a few minutes for the sea salt to properly dissolve, so make sure taste...add....wait....taste...etc.
Let that all simmer on low for about 30 minutes.
I add salt to my water when I boil spaghetti noodles, as it helps to keep them from sticking together. Cook the noodles in the boiling water for 9 minutes. Rinse. Toss with olive oil.
Serve, bitches.
Still working on the financing for the house. We should have some news today or tomorrow but it is driving us insane. I want to make an offer and get the negotiation started. Lori and I need to be in that place. Anybody else in there would be a disservice to coolness.
Lori and I went out to the Old Rock on Friday night with Mr. Thom. It was a little weird in there that night. We sat down, and we waited at least 20 minutes before anybody even spoke to us. Granted, it was busy...but not that busy. The good news is that once we WERE finally waited on, I quickly forgot about the lack of attention earlier. One thing, though -- they need better beers out there. Only the Hopalicious appealed to me, but I don't like to drink that all the time. I tire of it rather quickly. After listening to countless country songs on the juke, we needed to get out of there. Too rural. ;-) Home by 10PM.
I headed over to Mr. Thom's place on Saturday morning to help him with his home network. He had some serious bandwidth issues over his WiFi connection. Not only was his signal being trounced by that of his neighbors, his equipment was almost a decade old. Using Speakeasy's website, we determined he was only getting about one-third of the possible bandwidth. We installed a WRT1900AC by Linksys. It was up and running within about 20 minutes, and the results were incredible. Excellent signal strength and fantastic throughput over WiFi. And now he's rockin' a Roku. How could life be any better?
Sunday was time to relax with smatterings of cleaning. Did laundry, cleaned the floors, took down a Christmas tree (don't fucking judge me), and cooked some spaghetti. Dudes -- lemme tell ya. I have the spaghetti sauce dialed in. Totally easy and it has HUGE flavor. Here's the dealio:
Clark's Spaghetti Sauce
2 green peppers (diced)
1 large white onion (diced)
3 28 oz cans of diced tomatoes
1 12 oz can of tomato paste
5 cloves of garlic
1.5 lbs of ground chuck
1.5 lbs of italian sausage
2 teaspoons oregano
2 teaspoons basil
2 teaspoons thyme
3 teaspoons sugar
1 tablespoon fennel seed
dash of chili pepper
sea salt and ground pepper to taste
Empty cans of diced tomatoes into large pot. Add tomato paste. Fill the empty can of tomato paste with water and add it to the pot. Mix in peppers, onions, garlic, oregano, basil, thyme, fennel seed, sugar and chili pepper. You only need to add about 2 teaspoons of chili pepper. If you add too much, you'll overpower it, so chill. Let simmer on medium-low heat. Stir occasionally.
The place should start smelling fucking fantastic.
Now you need to start on the meat. I brown it in an electric skillet just out of convenience. I mix the ground chuck and the italian sausage by hand in the skillet and then brown it over medium heat. I usually hover over the skillet and break up the large chunks of meat until I get it to the consistency that I want within the sauce. Drain and add to the sauce.
Add your salt and pepper. Taste as you go. It'll take a few minutes for the sea salt to properly dissolve, so make sure taste...add....wait....taste...etc.
Let that all simmer on low for about 30 minutes.
I add salt to my water when I boil spaghetti noodles, as it helps to keep them from sticking together. Cook the noodles in the boiling water for 9 minutes. Rinse. Toss with olive oil.
Serve, bitches.
Still working on the financing for the house. We should have some news today or tomorrow but it is driving us insane. I want to make an offer and get the negotiation started. Lori and I need to be in that place. Anybody else in there would be a disservice to coolness.
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
The council had some very important votes during the last regular meeting. All in all, I think it went rather well.
Looks like the State of Wisconsin will be consolidating agencies due to Walker's budget. This might affect me and my contract. We shall see.
Still hunting "cool ranch". Waiting on the bankers to give us the thumbs-up.
Wish us luck...
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Science, bitches.
Lori and I went to see Neil deGrasse Tyson at the Overture Center last night. What an amazing presentation. Neil has an uncanny way of showing you what the world looks like through the eyes of an astrophysicist by demystifying the correlation between politics, economics, religion and scientific discoveries and how they effect modern society. Through all of that, he keeps you entertained while you hang on his every word. If you have the opportunity to see him, I highly encourage you to do so. It was something that I will never forget. Thank you, Lori!!
Dan and I are still in the process of restoring a 1964 Ducati Monza Jr. We inspected the replacement 250 engine that we will be using, and we found that the clutch housing is busted. That's one problem. Another, is that we aren't getting any movement from the bevel drive or piston. We'll find more that needs to be replaced as we go, but I am confident that we can get this bad boy running at some point. We're shooting for getting it going by the SCR in spring, but I'm not that optimistic. I think the SCR in October is more likely.
Lori and I also attended a "salon party" on Sunday. I had never been to one before, and I actually had to Wiki it before we went. It's really just a fancy way to say "a party where current events are discussed". We had a great time, and it was fun to connect with Niki outside of her work setting. I even was able to exercise my chess skills -- but Gabriel checkmated me in the end. It's always good to have a worthy opponent, so I will take him on again soon. :-)
Looks like Lori is moving ahead with her business plan. She'll be opening an olive oil retail store (infused olive oils and aged balsamic vinegars), and we think it will be in the Sun Prairie area. We still need to really nail down a location, but from what we've observed, that looks like a good spot. More on all of that soon.
Not much else is cooking, so I will keep this to one page. Happy Tuesday, folks!
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Failure Pile in a Sadness Bowl
Watched the movie "Codebreaker" on Netflix last night. Fantastic. If you're at all interested in how the age of computing commenced, then you might be fascinated by this film. It's about a British man named Alan Turing, and it begins with his breaking the code for the German Enigma machines during WWII. Without this advantage, Hitler's Luftwaffe and U-boat forces would likely have poured into Great Britain and D-Day might have been a failure in Normandy. This guy was a mathematical genius, and he literally gave us the construct for modern computing back in 1936. Every smartphone, every computer, tablet, laptop, mainframe, etc, still employs these very basic principles. Without this highly intelligent Brit's phenomenal work, history could have taken a much darker path.
There is a shameful element in the story of Alan Turing, however. The British government treated this hero horrifically, due to his sexual orientation. I commend them for eventually apologizing to the man after his death, but they literally wasted an unbelievable asset to mankind. Very sad.
I've been feeling the itch to get back on the motorcycle lately. There are 56 more days until spring, and it can't come soon enough. I need my 2-wheeled therapy.
After work yesterday, I decided to get a long-overdue oil change. My sexy 2005 Ford Freestyle with sheepskin seat covers had been neglected. Not only was I a couple thousand miles past the limit, the heater in my car was not working very well ever since this last cold snap. Sure, it would get a little warm when I was cruising at about 72mph, but in the city, I was freezing my balls off. My feet would feel like two throbbing ice blocks by the time I reached downtown Madison from Columbus. I went to Super-Lube in Sun Prairie for the service. I got the usual upsell shit that they always try to pull, but then the technician came over to me with my air filter to show me how filthy it was. It was covered in hair and leaves, and it looked like something was nesting in the air intake. No mention of that was made, but they did recommend replacing it. I agreed, and they proceeded to put in my new air filter. They guy then reaches into the air intake, and pulls out THE REST of the nest. Yes, I had a mouse nesting in my engine's air intake chamber. Fantastic. Low and behold, my fucking heat works again. Woot-woot!
Lori and I have been stalking a mid-century modern home that was built in 1950. We're in the process of getting all of our ducks in a row so we can make a formal low-ball offer. I. must. have. this. house. It just needs a little love and care, and it would be one sexy mutherfucker of a home. We've started referring to it as "cool ranch". Here's a picture of the back of this Frank Lloyd Wright inspired property:
We'll see how things pan out, but I really want to bring this property back to its proper condition. The exterior is gorgeous, and the interior has great bones. We will do it justice....I promise.
I think that's all I have time for today, folks. I should really start earning my paycheck. I will leave you with this little nugget that left Lori and I giggling last night. Patton Oswalt is my new all-time favorite comic right now. Enjoy:
Watched the movie "Codebreaker" on Netflix last night. Fantastic. If you're at all interested in how the age of computing commenced, then you might be fascinated by this film. It's about a British man named Alan Turing, and it begins with his breaking the code for the German Enigma machines during WWII. Without this advantage, Hitler's Luftwaffe and U-boat forces would likely have poured into Great Britain and D-Day might have been a failure in Normandy. This guy was a mathematical genius, and he literally gave us the construct for modern computing back in 1936. Every smartphone, every computer, tablet, laptop, mainframe, etc, still employs these very basic principles. Without this highly intelligent Brit's phenomenal work, history could have taken a much darker path.
There is a shameful element in the story of Alan Turing, however. The British government treated this hero horrifically, due to his sexual orientation. I commend them for eventually apologizing to the man after his death, but they literally wasted an unbelievable asset to mankind. Very sad.
I've been feeling the itch to get back on the motorcycle lately. There are 56 more days until spring, and it can't come soon enough. I need my 2-wheeled therapy.
After work yesterday, I decided to get a long-overdue oil change. My sexy 2005 Ford Freestyle with sheepskin seat covers had been neglected. Not only was I a couple thousand miles past the limit, the heater in my car was not working very well ever since this last cold snap. Sure, it would get a little warm when I was cruising at about 72mph, but in the city, I was freezing my balls off. My feet would feel like two throbbing ice blocks by the time I reached downtown Madison from Columbus. I went to Super-Lube in Sun Prairie for the service. I got the usual upsell shit that they always try to pull, but then the technician came over to me with my air filter to show me how filthy it was. It was covered in hair and leaves, and it looked like something was nesting in the air intake. No mention of that was made, but they did recommend replacing it. I agreed, and they proceeded to put in my new air filter. They guy then reaches into the air intake, and pulls out THE REST of the nest. Yes, I had a mouse nesting in my engine's air intake chamber. Fantastic. Low and behold, my fucking heat works again. Woot-woot!
Lori and I have been stalking a mid-century modern home that was built in 1950. We're in the process of getting all of our ducks in a row so we can make a formal low-ball offer. I. must. have. this. house. It just needs a little love and care, and it would be one sexy mutherfucker of a home. We've started referring to it as "cool ranch". Here's a picture of the back of this Frank Lloyd Wright inspired property:
We'll see how things pan out, but I really want to bring this property back to its proper condition. The exterior is gorgeous, and the interior has great bones. We will do it justice....I promise.
I think that's all I have time for today, folks. I should really start earning my paycheck. I will leave you with this little nugget that left Lori and I giggling last night. Patton Oswalt is my new all-time favorite comic right now. Enjoy:
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
So -- here we are, folks.
Only a handful of you have this address. I am hoping that you check in daily, as I will be writing a post first thing in the morning over a cup of coffee. If you like what you read, tell a friend about it. You've been given the address because you have been supportive during my failed Facebook experiment, and I need an outlet to write. Writing isn't any fun if there isn't a reader, and that's where you come in.
Understand what you're getting into, as this will not be politically correct. This will, at times, be a raw extension of the conversations I have in my head.
I have no delusions of grandeur. I simply want to write.
I hope you stick around, man.
-Clark
Only a handful of you have this address. I am hoping that you check in daily, as I will be writing a post first thing in the morning over a cup of coffee. If you like what you read, tell a friend about it. You've been given the address because you have been supportive during my failed Facebook experiment, and I need an outlet to write. Writing isn't any fun if there isn't a reader, and that's where you come in.
Understand what you're getting into, as this will not be politically correct. This will, at times, be a raw extension of the conversations I have in my head.
I have no delusions of grandeur. I simply want to write.
I hope you stick around, man.
-Clark
The Facebook post that led me here:
I've really begun to question the value Facebook brings to my life. I used to think it was a fantastic way to bring people closer together, but how one utilizes the tool has a direct correlation to how much value it actually brings.
I've found over the years that I use FB differently than other people. For me, it's a way to have a dialog with people. Through that dialog, it can be a way to view very complex issues from many different angles. It doesn't matter to me how "sensitive" or personal an issue is -- if I feel like I need to get something out, I post it here. One thing I will never do, however, is air out my family's dirty laundry in public. I might give a 50,000 foot view of an issue, otherwise known as "vaguebooking" (posts are written in such a way that only the people with additional information will actually "get" the post), but never specific. Facebook shouldn't be used as a tool to bludgeon your family members.
Here's the thing that I have found with FB and social media as a whole -- at the end of the day, the people closest to you are still your real friends. You may acquire new friendships through the tool, but how deep can those relationships really be if you've never sat across from them? Old friendships, however, do seem to strengthen despite the amount of distance that may lie between you and the other person. I have many examples of that within my friend list (you listening Tom Kelsall?)
There does seem to be some constants about Facebook, however. For one, it's completely ego-driven. We post things to look for support...to get attention....to share a moment....and I've even seen it used in such a way that is the most superficial of all -- the online brochure of "what my life is like". The reason I call that one the most superficial of all is because the brochure rarely resembles reality. I don't really see the point of employing FB in this fashion. Who benefits? The reader? You? Anybody? The ego is a very interesting beast, and Facebook seems to feed off of it and churn relentlessly upon it.
I've been criticized many times over the years about the way I use this particular form of social media. I've also been praised many times and have received very generous compliments on my writing style. For me, that's what it really boils down to. I love to write. My ego is fed by creating something and having someone consume it. It's further fed if I have provoked thought within the reader. I get great joy and satisfaction out of taking an idea, expressing it as best I can, and getting the full brunt of whatever reaction I have stirred within "my audience".
It's all ego, folks.
I'm considering what action to take next. I've lost friends, I have lost intimate relationships, found old friends, and have reunited with old colleagues through Facebook. I do see some value in it. I also see it for the cesspool that it is. I'm considering leaving the account up...but blank, as it has been over the past week or so, and starting a blog. For me, I think that better suits my "need". If nobody reads it, that's fine. It will at least allow me to journal the things I need to get out.
Thanks for listening, peeps. More to come.
I've found over the years that I use FB differently than other people. For me, it's a way to have a dialog with people. Through that dialog, it can be a way to view very complex issues from many different angles. It doesn't matter to me how "sensitive" or personal an issue is -- if I feel like I need to get something out, I post it here. One thing I will never do, however, is air out my family's dirty laundry in public. I might give a 50,000 foot view of an issue, otherwise known as "vaguebooking" (posts are written in such a way that only the people with additional information will actually "get" the post), but never specific. Facebook shouldn't be used as a tool to bludgeon your family members.
Here's the thing that I have found with FB and social media as a whole -- at the end of the day, the people closest to you are still your real friends. You may acquire new friendships through the tool, but how deep can those relationships really be if you've never sat across from them? Old friendships, however, do seem to strengthen despite the amount of distance that may lie between you and the other person. I have many examples of that within my friend list (you listening Tom Kelsall?)
There does seem to be some constants about Facebook, however. For one, it's completely ego-driven. We post things to look for support...to get attention....to share a moment....and I've even seen it used in such a way that is the most superficial of all -- the online brochure of "what my life is like". The reason I call that one the most superficial of all is because the brochure rarely resembles reality. I don't really see the point of employing FB in this fashion. Who benefits? The reader? You? Anybody? The ego is a very interesting beast, and Facebook seems to feed off of it and churn relentlessly upon it.
I've been criticized many times over the years about the way I use this particular form of social media. I've also been praised many times and have received very generous compliments on my writing style. For me, that's what it really boils down to. I love to write. My ego is fed by creating something and having someone consume it. It's further fed if I have provoked thought within the reader. I get great joy and satisfaction out of taking an idea, expressing it as best I can, and getting the full brunt of whatever reaction I have stirred within "my audience".
It's all ego, folks.
I'm considering what action to take next. I've lost friends, I have lost intimate relationships, found old friends, and have reunited with old colleagues through Facebook. I do see some value in it. I also see it for the cesspool that it is. I'm considering leaving the account up...but blank, as it has been over the past week or so, and starting a blog. For me, I think that better suits my "need". If nobody reads it, that's fine. It will at least allow me to journal the things I need to get out.
Thanks for listening, peeps. More to come.
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