There's a lot bouncing around in my head at the moment.
"ruminations" is my new favorite word. The best part is that it means what I've always understood it to mean (introspective meditation) AND to "chew the cud"...both figuratively AND literally!
Chew the cud, of course, means both "to recall and reflect meditatively on things said, done, or suffered" (OED online) and in reference to "The food which a ruminating animal brings back into its mouth from its first stomach, and chews at leisure" (ibid).
So, ruminate, then, means both to reflect on concepts and ideas in a meditative fashion AND to regurgitate and chew on previously swallowed food. THIS IS FUCKING AWESOME.
In other news, I need to start writing again.
In all honesty, it's very difficult to get back on the horse. I rather desperately want to dust off my unfinished play, mostly because I feel that Mr. Winnicott, his cat Geoffrey, and poor Steve (along with Greg, Vaughn, and whatever Greg's wife's name was going to be) finally need to have their story told and, in some cases, their misery ended.
The primary hang-up here seems to be my reluctance to go over what I've already written. This is because, honestly, I'm scared. To be fair, that may be because all that stuff is currently in the file box which is buried under a bunch of junk in my closet storage area, but there's another possible explanation as well.
I always felt, foolishly, that at some point I would either have to actively decide that my creative and academic sides would need to stay separate or that they would fuse together in perfect harmony (like two ninjas taped together to form one giant ninja). It turns out, I think, that neither of these possibilities were necessary. Instead, I believe that my academic side and my creative side have reconciled in some way in order to form a deadly, effective partnership, slaying, with efficient impunity, any target my mind may designate (or create). Of course, the problem is that I can't pinpoint the moment that this symbiotic construct came into being, leaving me without the delightful opportunity for laboriously over-involved introspection.
Shucks.
Or, more likely, I've been putting off getting to work because I'm lazy and can't motivate my sorry ass to move the stack of books off the damn file box. Pick your poison, I guess.
More importantly, I'm drinking some of the delightful pecan pastry green tea that Sarah (and mom) picked out for me. It's rather sublime.
Okay.
Time to construct a mix CD and finish this damn play.
***Update***
The mix cd:
Glen Miller-"In the Mood"
Metallica- "Harvester of Sorrow"
Dire Straights- "Romeo and Juliet"
Weezer- "Getchoo"
Led Zeppelin- "No Quarter"
Godsmack- "I Fucking Hate You"
Fuel- "Fall On Me"
Taking Back Sunday- "I Am Fred Astaire"
Korn- "I'm Done"
Van Halen- "Poundcake"
ZZ Top- "Two Ways to Play"
Peter Gabriel- "Secret World"
Avenged Sevenfold- "Unholy Confessions"
Disturbed- "Decadence"
Albinoni- "Adagio In G Minor"
***UPDATE 2***
HA! SHARON!
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Damn.
56%
Sheesh. I thought I would have done better.
Check it out: http://www.justsayhi.com/bb/zombie
**UPDATE** On the plus side, I could, apparently, take on up to 30 five year old kids in a closed space brawl. Whew!
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Take-home Litmus Test
So, got some crazy idea you're not so sure about? Thinking that, maybe, it's not the best idea in the world?
I hear ya. I mean, damn, I've had some bad ideas. But all that's in the past, thanks to this handy little litmus test I just came up with.
If you're not sure if it (whatever it is) is a bad idea, ask yourself the following question, and proceed based on the scoring system:
"Is it as bad an idea as a live action Dragonball movie?"
1) If yes: well, that pretty much shoots that idea down.
2) If no: well, you haven't proved much here, either. Best not to do it.
And that's that. And yes, writing this post is by far the least important thing I have on my to do list.
I hear ya. I mean, damn, I've had some bad ideas. But all that's in the past, thanks to this handy little litmus test I just came up with.
If you're not sure if it (whatever it is) is a bad idea, ask yourself the following question, and proceed based on the scoring system:
"Is it as bad an idea as a live action Dragonball movie?"
1) If yes: well, that pretty much shoots that idea down.
2) If no: well, you haven't proved much here, either. Best not to do it.
And that's that. And yes, writing this post is by far the least important thing I have on my to do list.
Friday, March 7, 2008
The Journey Begins
Well, today's the day. We set off a'drivin cross country this afternoon, planning to cross six states and 2.5 days to bring the new wheels to the house====>
The one pictured is a 2008 Escape, mine's but a lowly used 2007, but you kind of get the picture. (Mine's also not as nice.)
In other news, Denver has signed Linebacker Boss Bailey, brother of Broncos cornerback Champ Bailey.
The implications of this are obvious. A moderately improved defense and TWO Baileys on the field! The normal custom is to list the first initial before the name on the back of the jersey, i.e. "C. Bailey", but I'm hoping they'll just cut to the chase and use the first name only. That way, we have a Champ and Boss running around on defense.
Of course, I'm also hoping there's a third, lesser known but talented Bailey named Chuckles, but you can't always get what you want.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
We get it. Shut up!
Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre! Brett Favre. Brett Favre? Brett Favre!
BRETT FAVRE!!!!
BRETT FAVRE!!!!
Saturday, March 1, 2008
The Universe knocks me down a peg or two
...and things were going so well.
You know that all too familiar and equally unhealthy attitude about misfortune? The whole, "that only happens to other people...it could never happen to me" thing? Yeah.
Now, I know what you're thinking: "OH! You didn't! Ditech.com!? Are you serious? You weren't dumb enough to buy into that garbage and drain all the equity out of your home, were you? For shame!"
Actually, no, but don't think the idea of borrowing against the rental property I don't own hadn't occurred to me. That would be, you know, illegal (but WAY smarter than getting a home equity loan on a property I DID own).
No, really, I was thinking of something else. How many times have I said "What kind of idiot pours a whole cup of steaming hot coffee in his/her own lap?"
Yeah.
So there I am, in my off-white cargo pants, white t-shirt, and flannel button up, sipping my complimentary Diet Coke on the 4.5 hour flight from Charlotte to Phoenix. Then, the flight attendant comes around with the tray of coffee, and I think, hey, why not? So, I grab some. A few seconds later, she comes back with the trash bag. In my haste to relieve my tray table of the burden of the empty soda can, I very cleverly nudge the coffee over into my own lap.
Ouch.
Fortunately, I was in the back row right near the lavatory. The flight attendant got me a can of club soda, and the lady next to me (i was, of course, in the middle) was up and out of her seat considerably faster than I would have expected. I wasn't burned or anything, so that was a plus.
Still, a very appropriate Venture Bros. quote came to mind. As I had poured an entire cup of hot coffee on my crotch area (thank GOD for the absorbing power of flannel shirts!) It did, at the time, look like I had "hauled off and whizzed all over myself." And my pants. And my t-shirt. And my flannel shirt. But, fortunately, not on the seat or my neighbors.
Of course, we were about an hour into the aforementioned 4.5 hour flight. While this did give me ample opportunity to douse much of my midsection with club soda and let it dry, it did leave me sitting there a little damp for some time. You know that feeling when you've gone swimming, and your swimsuit isn't quite dry, but you put a t-shirt on anyway, and it gets kind of uncomfortably damp? Imagine that, only with coffee. Needless to say, I looked and smelled great for the rest of the flight.
There was a time in my life, I should point out, where I would have flown into a rage at my own stupidity, stormed into the bathroom, and probably burst into tears at the shame of it all.
I didn't. In fact, I wasn't all that freaked out by it. I was a little annoyed, sure, but I went back to my seat and was fine for the rest of the flight.
Of course, the single malt scotch on the rocks, compliments of the house (for "all I'd been through"), didn't hurt. A nutmeg of consolation, perhaps, but it helped me sleep through about half of the remaining flight, damp pants and all.
Good times.
You know that all too familiar and equally unhealthy attitude about misfortune? The whole, "that only happens to other people...it could never happen to me" thing? Yeah.
Now, I know what you're thinking: "OH! You didn't! Ditech.com!? Are you serious? You weren't dumb enough to buy into that garbage and drain all the equity out of your home, were you? For shame!"
Actually, no, but don't think the idea of borrowing against the rental property I don't own hadn't occurred to me. That would be, you know, illegal (but WAY smarter than getting a home equity loan on a property I DID own).
No, really, I was thinking of something else. How many times have I said "What kind of idiot pours a whole cup of steaming hot coffee in his/her own lap?"
Yeah.
So there I am, in my off-white cargo pants, white t-shirt, and flannel button up, sipping my complimentary Diet Coke on the 4.5 hour flight from Charlotte to Phoenix. Then, the flight attendant comes around with the tray of coffee, and I think, hey, why not? So, I grab some. A few seconds later, she comes back with the trash bag. In my haste to relieve my tray table of the burden of the empty soda can, I very cleverly nudge the coffee over into my own lap.
Ouch.
Fortunately, I was in the back row right near the lavatory. The flight attendant got me a can of club soda, and the lady next to me (i was, of course, in the middle) was up and out of her seat considerably faster than I would have expected. I wasn't burned or anything, so that was a plus.
Still, a very appropriate Venture Bros. quote came to mind. As I had poured an entire cup of hot coffee on my crotch area (thank GOD for the absorbing power of flannel shirts!) It did, at the time, look like I had "hauled off and whizzed all over myself." And my pants. And my t-shirt. And my flannel shirt. But, fortunately, not on the seat or my neighbors.
Of course, we were about an hour into the aforementioned 4.5 hour flight. While this did give me ample opportunity to douse much of my midsection with club soda and let it dry, it did leave me sitting there a little damp for some time. You know that feeling when you've gone swimming, and your swimsuit isn't quite dry, but you put a t-shirt on anyway, and it gets kind of uncomfortably damp? Imagine that, only with coffee. Needless to say, I looked and smelled great for the rest of the flight.
There was a time in my life, I should point out, where I would have flown into a rage at my own stupidity, stormed into the bathroom, and probably burst into tears at the shame of it all.
I didn't. In fact, I wasn't all that freaked out by it. I was a little annoyed, sure, but I went back to my seat and was fine for the rest of the flight.
Of course, the single malt scotch on the rocks, compliments of the house (for "all I'd been through"), didn't hurt. A nutmeg of consolation, perhaps, but it helped me sleep through about half of the remaining flight, damp pants and all.
Good times.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Hey, Dirty, I ain't got your money
Okay, so no full time appointment for me. Though they were nice enough to send a letter this year.
In other news, my car is on a speedy path to retirement. I figure I'll write a nice, moving obituary for it later this week. Or maybe this weekend. Or next week, depending on when I get those papers graded...
In other news, my car is on a speedy path to retirement. I figure I'll write a nice, moving obituary for it later this week. Or maybe this weekend. Or next week, depending on when I get those papers graded...
Friday, February 15, 2008
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Pledge to someday reevaluate general thematic intent and direction of beta cite before it is too late to launch such initiatives
So, it occured to me...like, just now, that this blog has...maybe become blandly predictable. I rave, I rant, mostly about sports, and then I try to be witty about things.
BLAH.
I had, for the most part, a few things in mind when I launched this thing (with the laser-rocket arm that is my writing sensibility):
1) I will not discuss work or anyone involved. To do so would be unprofessional.
2) I will not use it as a DIRECT outlet for creative projects.
3) I will not use the lame, "this is how my day was" kind of tripe to fill space or get attention.
Okay, all three are, for the most part, sound. Number 1 is immutable. That's good. Number 2 (snickers childishly) is good, but I have to this point misinterpreted it to mean that I couldn't talk about creative projects (note the all caps denoting emphasis on direct, as in, I won't put creative work up on this site(of course, if I was quoting myself, I would have to mention that the emphasis was mine, but not mine in terms of presentation of an integrated source)). Fortunately, I haven't, so much, HAD any creative work to talk about, so that sort of took care of itself (once again, my emphasis). BUT, I am on the path back to getting shit done, so that will soon cease to be a problem, and you (whoever reads this digital rag) will get to hear about it (note the emphasis on but, by the way). I know, I'm a real mensch.
It's number three of the arbitrary and until now completely informal (and unwritten) operating points that is giving me trouble. I fully intend to keep the latter part (not to fill space or get attention), but it occurs to me that since I am such an utter failure with correspondence, I might as well keep updating the BLOG to convey that info (unconsiously typed emphasis).
So. How am I doing? Well, right now, I've had a couple glasses of wine, and I'm good. More later.
Oh, because it comes to mind: Ashley, Lacey, Kyle...I know I don't talk with y'all much, but you are missed around the office. Very much. Hope you're all doing well.
And, honestly, good wishes to all.
Okay, time for spell-check.
[update: okay, because I accidentally typed "ya'll" the first time and didn't want to get hate mail from certain readers (like...oh, I don't know...ASHLEY!?!?!) about getting it wrong, I changed it and then, out of curiosity, looked it up online. As asinine as I find wikipedia sometimes, I thought this article was interesting.]
[update 2: okay, my spell check is broken, and it's really pissing me off]
BLAH.
I had, for the most part, a few things in mind when I launched this thing (with the laser-rocket arm that is my writing sensibility):
1) I will not discuss work or anyone involved. To do so would be unprofessional.
2) I will not use it as a DIRECT outlet for creative projects.
3) I will not use the lame, "this is how my day was" kind of tripe to fill space or get attention.
Okay, all three are, for the most part, sound. Number 1 is immutable. That's good. Number 2 (snickers childishly) is good, but I have to this point misinterpreted it to mean that I couldn't talk about creative projects (note the all caps denoting emphasis on direct, as in, I won't put creative work up on this site(of course, if I was quoting myself, I would have to mention that the emphasis was mine, but not mine in terms of presentation of an integrated source)). Fortunately, I haven't, so much, HAD any creative work to talk about, so that sort of took care of itself (once again, my emphasis). BUT, I am on the path back to getting shit done, so that will soon cease to be a problem, and you (whoever reads this digital rag) will get to hear about it (note the emphasis on but, by the way). I know, I'm a real mensch.
It's number three of the arbitrary and until now completely informal (and unwritten) operating points that is giving me trouble. I fully intend to keep the latter part (not to fill space or get attention), but it occurs to me that since I am such an utter failure with correspondence, I might as well keep updating the BLOG to convey that info (unconsiously typed emphasis).
So. How am I doing? Well, right now, I've had a couple glasses of wine, and I'm good. More later.
Oh, because it comes to mind: Ashley, Lacey, Kyle...I know I don't talk with y'all much, but you are missed around the office. Very much. Hope you're all doing well.
And, honestly, good wishes to all.
Okay, time for spell-check.
[update: okay, because I accidentally typed "ya'll" the first time and didn't want to get hate mail from certain readers (like...oh, I don't know...ASHLEY!?!?!) about getting it wrong, I changed it and then, out of curiosity, looked it up online. As asinine as I find wikipedia sometimes, I thought this article was interesting.]
[update 2: okay, my spell check is broken, and it's really pissing me off]
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
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