DISCLAIMER: this blog is mine & mine alone. Thou shalt not blame family nor friends nor employer for what you may read here.
For the benefit of the doubters - and very much for myself - I just had to say "I TOLD YOU SO", in reply to my diatribe & stab at self-analysis from last night. Today I woke up groggy & wondering if anyone caught the license plate of the truck that hit me last night, but after an added hour of sleep, felt much better. And by the way, I didn't get trucked as in fucked up last night...wait, scratch that...I was fucked up, but not inebriated. Anyway, I found that all the digging around my soul sapped all my energy. I had a good vise-grip headache for about 90 minutes after I finished writing last night. I felt as if some weighted yoke had been lifted from my shoulders, and my head was a bit lighter, but I still wasn't myself.
Well, so far today, the Eagle has landed, and Brian is Back. I guess this validates my statement that I'm mood-swingy, which while bad, means that as much as I get in a funk, I can also head back the other direction. I know I'm not manic-depressant, I like to think I'm just human. As it turns out I needed some good brooding & sleep to get past yesterday. Today's a new day, and I have a new outlook. I'm kinda sorta ready to curbstomp shit today, and make it look effortless. Today is the C4 day: Calm, Cool, Collected, Confident for me. And that's good, cuz I had enough psycho thoughts through yesterday and into last night for both me and Norman Bates.
So it's time to lock & load, get ready to head to the office this afternoon to get some shit done. I'm feeling positive, productive, and ready to answer the call when the next person hits the panic switch.
Have a great day all. I know I will.
One Love.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
I Am What I Am
DISCLAIMER: this blog is mine & mine alone. Thou shalt not blame family nor friends nor employer for what you may read here.
I'm prone to mood swings, a not-so-great side of me that's caused more than it's fair share of problems in my past. Little things eat at me. I can feel the acidic angst eating away a thin veneer of steel in my gut, and when it breaches that shell, it burns. Even though I've tried to tell myself "it doesn't matter", "it shouldn't matter", it still does. Others have tried to get through to me using similar strategy, potentially different tactics. I've had family lecture in scorn, ex's shun, friends desert. Everyone tries to get me to "just drop it". The message rarely varies from a theme all-too-often heard. And yes, in a way, inside my selfish room-for-one at the Agony Inn, I'll admit they're right. Life is short. Too short to waste minutes or hours, let alone days, letting the little things fester. But yet, as much as I acknowledge the truth, I continue these little self-destructive cycles, letting myself get pulled into the eddy of darkness.
And then there's the other side of me, the Eagle that soars above it all. Allow me to explain. I am a Scorpio, born November 5. When I was a young adult my mother gave me a book on astrology by Linda Goodman. If I'm not mistaken, the title of her book is Sun Signs. If you're at all interested in astrology & want to know what makes yourself or someone else tick, by all means pick it up. The book covers all the astrological signs from Aries to Pisces. The author paints a picture of each sign in widescreen, and then narrows the focus to the man, woman, child, and boss of each sign. Upon receiving the book I immediately sequestered myself to the confines of my bedroom, laid down, and read the section on Scorpio. And again. As I read the words it dawned on me. Answers to so many questions I'd had about myself were answered. As I've aged I see more & more Scorpio in me. I couldn't hide who I am nor deny my nature if I tried. But of course, the Scorpio - knowing him/herself so well for better or worse - will never do that. Back to the Eagle reference. The Scorpio has three sides, or animal representations of himself. The Scorpio, the gray lizard, and the eagle. The Eagle chooses to ignore injustice, and in seeking Right, soars above it all. The Scorpio, when wronged, stings. And stings. And stings, sometimes to the point of killing itself. And the gray lizard, well the gray lizard lets things boil, seethe, and ruminates on issues to no end.
Where was I? Ah yes, trying to soar like the Eagle. The Eagle side of me is born & bred to face adversity, and of course, triumph. Give the oogie boogies an ass-beating of a lifetime & banish them for good. The Eagle is the side of the Scorpio fireman that sheds fear & self-concern to rescue victims from a towering inferno; the GI that charges machine gun nests to divert fire from his platoon mates. But the Eagle also forgives, and forgets. I do have Eagle within me. I haven't had a disastrous life, but I've survived my fair share of shit. The Eagle is the side of a Scorpio that triumphs in the face of certain defeat. So I know I have it within me to get down, but then get up, and get over. But there are times the Eagle cannot fly, and the gray lizard emerges.
It's the gray lizard that lets the little things get to him, and my gray lizard has been running the show the past couple of days. I know that, especially when it comes to the workplace, everyone of us is expendable. But some days that hardly seems so. After a fantastic long weekend I attended an off-site work function yesterday, and mostly enjoyed myself. But once I got home & logged into the work network, the firestorm raged out of control. Problems here, problems there. Chicken Littles many, declaring the sky is falling. I felt like Atlas, holding up the world. Expectations unmet, demands running rampant, and minor emergencies all laid at my doorstep, whether they belonged there or not. What choice do I have? As there's only one of me, there is no "divide & conquer", I am an Army of One. And the Army of One was called on again today, and put through a bloody firefight. More impossible expectations, time over-scheduled, an avalanche of demands thundering down the mountainside, bound straight for my head.
In my place of work I have a unique set of skills. This is at once a blessing and a curse. It's a blessing because in many ways it makes me a more vital cog in the machine than one person should rightfully be. It's a curse because, well, no one can what I do, like I do it. You may think me braggart for dubbing myself an Army of One, but it's no exaggeration. I have very little backup for my position. I don't have the luxury of sending an email to a colleague & attaching the problems at hand for them to cope with. In theory this is great for the check writers - it reduces overhead by multitasking resources. But it's also inherently dangerous, as there's no "hit by the bus" list. If I win the lottery & take flight or lose touch with my mental faculties & go off the deep end, there is no second choice. I am Plan B. So, the shit hits any one of five fans, it splatters on me.
I have something of a masochistic streak. Periodically I enjoy causing myself varying degrees of pain, just to see how much I can take and in the process, become stronger. This side of me relishes the challenge, mostly out of love and lust for the thrill of victory. I guess you'd say I have a hero complex in that sense. Like King Leonidas of Spartan fame, I put on my game face as I face the seemingly insurmountable odds of the Persian empire. Yes, I know Leonidas' end, but it's not mine. I triumph.
I can, and I usually do. And therein lies the rub: I know I have the skills, audacity, and talent to get things done. My track record proves this out. So why do I let many little fires ignite the whole forest? I wish I knew. That begs the initial question: what's the point? I abhor drama in my personal relationships, and I loathe to foster it, but I have the dubious talent of letting it consume me on occasion when it comes to work. I know everything will work out. It always does. All it takes is a deep breath, a clear head, and some tact. But there are days when I fail to muster one, let alone all three of those tools. When I self-analyze I think that maybe I'm waiting for the brush fire to ignite the mountainside, thus providing the opportunity to step in and save the day, playing the Hero once again.
Foolish, silly, and even self-aggrandizing in a way. The more efficient way to cope would be to adopt the catch line from a long-past deodorant commercial: "never let 'em see you sweat". I live with the duality of being fiery, molten, on the verge of eruption while also commanding a cool, calm, collected confidence that Michael Jordan would admire. It's a matter of which side I choose to indulge at a given time that's makes the difference. And I know this. I also know that my mental health would improve if I were to choose the C4 approach instead of the flamethrower. I also know that my personal relationships would improve. Perhaps some (aside from the familial ties that forever bind) would have lasted.
So here I sit, having some answers, but not all. I know what I do wrong, when, and to some degree why. But it's lacking an airtight answer to the question of why that keeps me up at night. Hopefully as time passes I get closer to the answer, and can get some sleep.
I'm prone to mood swings, a not-so-great side of me that's caused more than it's fair share of problems in my past. Little things eat at me. I can feel the acidic angst eating away a thin veneer of steel in my gut, and when it breaches that shell, it burns. Even though I've tried to tell myself "it doesn't matter", "it shouldn't matter", it still does. Others have tried to get through to me using similar strategy, potentially different tactics. I've had family lecture in scorn, ex's shun, friends desert. Everyone tries to get me to "just drop it". The message rarely varies from a theme all-too-often heard. And yes, in a way, inside my selfish room-for-one at the Agony Inn, I'll admit they're right. Life is short. Too short to waste minutes or hours, let alone days, letting the little things fester. But yet, as much as I acknowledge the truth, I continue these little self-destructive cycles, letting myself get pulled into the eddy of darkness.
And then there's the other side of me, the Eagle that soars above it all. Allow me to explain. I am a Scorpio, born November 5. When I was a young adult my mother gave me a book on astrology by Linda Goodman. If I'm not mistaken, the title of her book is Sun Signs. If you're at all interested in astrology & want to know what makes yourself or someone else tick, by all means pick it up. The book covers all the astrological signs from Aries to Pisces. The author paints a picture of each sign in widescreen, and then narrows the focus to the man, woman, child, and boss of each sign. Upon receiving the book I immediately sequestered myself to the confines of my bedroom, laid down, and read the section on Scorpio. And again. As I read the words it dawned on me. Answers to so many questions I'd had about myself were answered. As I've aged I see more & more Scorpio in me. I couldn't hide who I am nor deny my nature if I tried. But of course, the Scorpio - knowing him/herself so well for better or worse - will never do that. Back to the Eagle reference. The Scorpio has three sides, or animal representations of himself. The Scorpio, the gray lizard, and the eagle. The Eagle chooses to ignore injustice, and in seeking Right, soars above it all. The Scorpio, when wronged, stings. And stings. And stings, sometimes to the point of killing itself. And the gray lizard, well the gray lizard lets things boil, seethe, and ruminates on issues to no end.
Where was I? Ah yes, trying to soar like the Eagle. The Eagle side of me is born & bred to face adversity, and of course, triumph. Give the oogie boogies an ass-beating of a lifetime & banish them for good. The Eagle is the side of the Scorpio fireman that sheds fear & self-concern to rescue victims from a towering inferno; the GI that charges machine gun nests to divert fire from his platoon mates. But the Eagle also forgives, and forgets. I do have Eagle within me. I haven't had a disastrous life, but I've survived my fair share of shit. The Eagle is the side of a Scorpio that triumphs in the face of certain defeat. So I know I have it within me to get down, but then get up, and get over. But there are times the Eagle cannot fly, and the gray lizard emerges.
It's the gray lizard that lets the little things get to him, and my gray lizard has been running the show the past couple of days. I know that, especially when it comes to the workplace, everyone of us is expendable. But some days that hardly seems so. After a fantastic long weekend I attended an off-site work function yesterday, and mostly enjoyed myself. But once I got home & logged into the work network, the firestorm raged out of control. Problems here, problems there. Chicken Littles many, declaring the sky is falling. I felt like Atlas, holding up the world. Expectations unmet, demands running rampant, and minor emergencies all laid at my doorstep, whether they belonged there or not. What choice do I have? As there's only one of me, there is no "divide & conquer", I am an Army of One. And the Army of One was called on again today, and put through a bloody firefight. More impossible expectations, time over-scheduled, an avalanche of demands thundering down the mountainside, bound straight for my head.
In my place of work I have a unique set of skills. This is at once a blessing and a curse. It's a blessing because in many ways it makes me a more vital cog in the machine than one person should rightfully be. It's a curse because, well, no one can what I do, like I do it. You may think me braggart for dubbing myself an Army of One, but it's no exaggeration. I have very little backup for my position. I don't have the luxury of sending an email to a colleague & attaching the problems at hand for them to cope with. In theory this is great for the check writers - it reduces overhead by multitasking resources. But it's also inherently dangerous, as there's no "hit by the bus" list. If I win the lottery & take flight or lose touch with my mental faculties & go off the deep end, there is no second choice. I am Plan B. So, the shit hits any one of five fans, it splatters on me.
I have something of a masochistic streak. Periodically I enjoy causing myself varying degrees of pain, just to see how much I can take and in the process, become stronger. This side of me relishes the challenge, mostly out of love and lust for the thrill of victory. I guess you'd say I have a hero complex in that sense. Like King Leonidas of Spartan fame, I put on my game face as I face the seemingly insurmountable odds of the Persian empire. Yes, I know Leonidas' end, but it's not mine. I triumph.
I can, and I usually do. And therein lies the rub: I know I have the skills, audacity, and talent to get things done. My track record proves this out. So why do I let many little fires ignite the whole forest? I wish I knew. That begs the initial question: what's the point? I abhor drama in my personal relationships, and I loathe to foster it, but I have the dubious talent of letting it consume me on occasion when it comes to work. I know everything will work out. It always does. All it takes is a deep breath, a clear head, and some tact. But there are days when I fail to muster one, let alone all three of those tools. When I self-analyze I think that maybe I'm waiting for the brush fire to ignite the mountainside, thus providing the opportunity to step in and save the day, playing the Hero once again.
Foolish, silly, and even self-aggrandizing in a way. The more efficient way to cope would be to adopt the catch line from a long-past deodorant commercial: "never let 'em see you sweat". I live with the duality of being fiery, molten, on the verge of eruption while also commanding a cool, calm, collected confidence that Michael Jordan would admire. It's a matter of which side I choose to indulge at a given time that's makes the difference. And I know this. I also know that my mental health would improve if I were to choose the C4 approach instead of the flamethrower. I also know that my personal relationships would improve. Perhaps some (aside from the familial ties that forever bind) would have lasted.
So here I sit, having some answers, but not all. I know what I do wrong, when, and to some degree why. But it's lacking an airtight answer to the question of why that keeps me up at night. Hopefully as time passes I get closer to the answer, and can get some sleep.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Life in 140 Characters or Less
DISCLAIMER: this blog is mine & mine alone. Thou shalt not blame family nor friends nor employer for what you may read here. Also, today I'm writing naked, in honor of SL.
Confession: I have yet another habit which has now become a vice of sorts, just another to add to the long & distinguished (or is it disturbing) list. Twitter. #Srsly. I'm fully aware that in my "Joy of Being Single" post I referred to a budding use of Twitter, but at that point I was rubbing sticks together. Now I'm wielding a flame thrower, and am one among a cabal of sorts.
Like most everyone else in the social networking slice of the interweb I started on MySpace years ago, and eventually migrated to Facebook. I signed up for Twitter in '09 but didn't really start doing anything with it 'til this year. In the beginning I was the textbook definition of newbie: following celebrities mostly, but spending very little time on the site. The majority of time I spent social networking was on Facebook. Sharing pics with friends, making what were in retrospect pretty meaningless, mundane status updates. But I realized that that's all I was getting back in return. Endless streams of pixelated projectile diarrhea like "can't wait for hubby to get home", "Junior won his wrestling tournament", "the weather sucks/is gorgeous". Whatthefuckever. I edited myself for content due to the audience, but really, what fun is that? I think I was trying to be kind, figuring that not many people can handle The Truth. Throw in the fucking constant streams of shitty updates I got from TV shows that I happened to mention I like and Facebook became painful. Then there's FourSquare. If I ever see another "I just became the mayor of..." update I'm gonna commit hari kari, and I'm not kidding.
This is the point in the story where our hero has the epic awakening, or maybe just a cartoon light bulb above his head. And with that, I turned to Twitter. A couple of weeks I made a tongue-in-cheek tweet about trying to get a few more followers, to equal the number of people I was following. A tweep that was following me clued me in: follow the *real* people, and you'll 1) get more followers and more importantly 2) get more out of it.
Let me set the record straight: I think I'm entertaining, I know I'm intelligent but I'm not the type that needs validation from others to know who or what I am. I don't get an ego boost off of having people follow me. But still, everyone wants a little feedback, some constructive criticism (or some not so much), am I right?
So I took my new advice & put it to work. I started looking at the people my advisor followed, and who followed them. The beauty of Twitter is that you can get a pretty decent read on a person based on their profile & timeline of tweets & retweets. And lo & behold, what did I find? An amazing myriad of other people like me. Smart, funny, and more than just a little sick & twisted. Birds of a psychedelic feather have flocked together.
See, each tweet is 140 characters or less, so people can dispense with the petty bullshit & really share. What they (and I) share may be scary, but I think it's closer to the real truth than Facebook, and probably even many IRL (In Real Life) or face-to-face relationships. Yeah, there are some that are just reaching for a retweet or a star for fav tweet, but I'm smart enough to know that the majority are in the same boat I am. We're all undersexed, self-medicating, cynical, snide, insightful, insulting human beings. We're all sick of the same stuff: shitty jobs & shittier bosses, annoying neighbors, running out of booze or batteries, and Justin Bieber. We all cheered when Charlie Sheen went absolute from zero to apeshit at the speed of light. We all uttered a collective "woah" when the earthquake hit Japan (at least those of us who weren't unconscious). THESE PEOPLE ARE JUST LIKE ME.
And isn't that a comfort to say if/when you really find it and can mean it? Fuckin'-A it is. I learned I Am Not Alone. It's common knowledge that most of us only let a small part of our whole personality or character out at a given time, based on where we are & what role we're playing at that time. I have Employee Brian, Son Brian, Friend Brian, Cousin Brian, yada yada. You do too. But none of those roles is Really Me, Brian on 10. Self-editing yet again based on the audience. But on Twitter, I remove the rev limiter & turn that shit up to 11.
What you get from me here, and especially on Twitter, is me as I am, pure & unadulterated. No additives or fillers like the other Brians. Until Twitter, my head was the only place I found that freedom. But as much as I like to hear myself think, even my own words bouncing around my head gets old. So Twitter is where I found a new voice of sorts, and a new outlet. Like getting out a relationship & being alone, I'm learning new things about myself, and I like what I'm finding. I hope in a very sincere sense that this latest self-discovery will help me loosen up the reigns if not just be more honest when I play the other roles. But the big win is that I can finally let it all go. I'm so constrained in my day-to-day that this freedom is bliss. And it's funny as fuck too. If you believe that laughter is the best medicine, then Twitter has in effect doubled my dose. I've known some funny people, but not quite like those I follow on Twitter.
The beauty of Twitter is the 140 character limit. I struggle to find time to blog, but Twitter allows me to, in essence, mini-blog throughout the day. Even though I may not be writing much here, believe me, I'm writing. I still enjoy my protracted purge-fests like this, but like sex, every once in a while a quickie can be just as good, am I right? By Twitter's count I've had lots of good quickies lately. ; ) Author's aside: if that's true then why the fuck am I still so horny? We'll put that away for another time...
Twitter is strangely erotic, and sometimes downright raunchy. But it's never dull, never fails to leave me laughing & wanting more. It's good to know there are others out there that think & feel like me. As much as I've found others who are very much like me, we're also quite diverse, coming from around the world & all angles of the spectrum. Even though it's cyberspace I can solidly say I like some of these people & consider 'em friends, or friends-in-the-making. Twitter is the most stimulating conversation you can have with hundreds of your closest friends, near 24x7. What could be better?
Edit: this next paragraph just came to me & it's too on-point & apropos to omit from this post.
The other gift Twitter gave me is reinforcing the importance of personality & sense of humor. Experience has revealed that looks bring two people together, but it's what inside that keeps 'em together. When I meet a woman character & personality are of the utmost import. Lack of a sense of humor is a deal-breaker. The women I follow on Twitter are probably sicker, funnier, and more interesting than the men. If I have to say that they're sexier too you don't know my very well, but what the fuck, there it is. But it's the words, the attitude that make's them sexy. You take that away & all you're left with is a shell. It's almost like Shallow Hal, with Jack Black. Beauty without brains, character, and humor ends up being pretty boring.
I've also seen how quickly the communal conscience can shift. We're all now so connected that ideas catch fire & spread quickly. That's what Twitter is so goddam good at. I'm all for it, 'cuz I think it makes mobilization of the people faster & more fluid. The world needs change - including the US in a bad way - and sometimes this requires Revolution; not enough time to wait for Evolution. As we've seen in Libya, Egypt, Tunisia, Bahrain, Madison, WI., people are getting more involved, being agitated & therefore becoming activated. Some of the greatest changes in history have started with the groundswell of an idea that grows among the masses via grassroots movements. Twitter just makes that more possible, and more likely.
To wrap this shit up, there was a time I didn't understand what all the buzz was about Twitter. But once I jumped in I found the water was warm, and with many others in the same pool - some naked - I don't think I'm getting out any time soon.
Confession: I have yet another habit which has now become a vice of sorts, just another to add to the long & distinguished (or is it disturbing) list. Twitter. #Srsly. I'm fully aware that in my "Joy of Being Single" post I referred to a budding use of Twitter, but at that point I was rubbing sticks together. Now I'm wielding a flame thrower, and am one among a cabal of sorts.
Like most everyone else in the social networking slice of the interweb I started on MySpace years ago, and eventually migrated to Facebook. I signed up for Twitter in '09 but didn't really start doing anything with it 'til this year. In the beginning I was the textbook definition of newbie: following celebrities mostly, but spending very little time on the site. The majority of time I spent social networking was on Facebook. Sharing pics with friends, making what were in retrospect pretty meaningless, mundane status updates. But I realized that that's all I was getting back in return. Endless streams of pixelated projectile diarrhea like "can't wait for hubby to get home", "Junior won his wrestling tournament", "the weather sucks/is gorgeous". Whatthefuckever. I edited myself for content due to the audience, but really, what fun is that? I think I was trying to be kind, figuring that not many people can handle The Truth. Throw in the fucking constant streams of shitty updates I got from TV shows that I happened to mention I like and Facebook became painful. Then there's FourSquare. If I ever see another "I just became the mayor of..." update I'm gonna commit hari kari, and I'm not kidding.
This is the point in the story where our hero has the epic awakening, or maybe just a cartoon light bulb above his head. And with that, I turned to Twitter. A couple of weeks I made a tongue-in-cheek tweet about trying to get a few more followers, to equal the number of people I was following. A tweep that was following me clued me in: follow the *real* people, and you'll 1) get more followers and more importantly 2) get more out of it.
Let me set the record straight: I think I'm entertaining, I know I'm intelligent but I'm not the type that needs validation from others to know who or what I am. I don't get an ego boost off of having people follow me. But still, everyone wants a little feedback, some constructive criticism (or some not so much), am I right?
So I took my new advice & put it to work. I started looking at the people my advisor followed, and who followed them. The beauty of Twitter is that you can get a pretty decent read on a person based on their profile & timeline of tweets & retweets. And lo & behold, what did I find? An amazing myriad of other people like me. Smart, funny, and more than just a little sick & twisted. Birds of a psychedelic feather have flocked together.
See, each tweet is 140 characters or less, so people can dispense with the petty bullshit & really share. What they (and I) share may be scary, but I think it's closer to the real truth than Facebook, and probably even many IRL (In Real Life) or face-to-face relationships. Yeah, there are some that are just reaching for a retweet or a star for fav tweet, but I'm smart enough to know that the majority are in the same boat I am. We're all undersexed, self-medicating, cynical, snide, insightful, insulting human beings. We're all sick of the same stuff: shitty jobs & shittier bosses, annoying neighbors, running out of booze or batteries, and Justin Bieber. We all cheered when Charlie Sheen went absolute from zero to apeshit at the speed of light. We all uttered a collective "woah" when the earthquake hit Japan (at least those of us who weren't unconscious). THESE PEOPLE ARE JUST LIKE ME.
And isn't that a comfort to say if/when you really find it and can mean it? Fuckin'-A it is. I learned I Am Not Alone. It's common knowledge that most of us only let a small part of our whole personality or character out at a given time, based on where we are & what role we're playing at that time. I have Employee Brian, Son Brian, Friend Brian, Cousin Brian, yada yada. You do too. But none of those roles is Really Me, Brian on 10. Self-editing yet again based on the audience. But on Twitter, I remove the rev limiter & turn that shit up to 11.
What you get from me here, and especially on Twitter, is me as I am, pure & unadulterated. No additives or fillers like the other Brians. Until Twitter, my head was the only place I found that freedom. But as much as I like to hear myself think, even my own words bouncing around my head gets old. So Twitter is where I found a new voice of sorts, and a new outlet. Like getting out a relationship & being alone, I'm learning new things about myself, and I like what I'm finding. I hope in a very sincere sense that this latest self-discovery will help me loosen up the reigns if not just be more honest when I play the other roles. But the big win is that I can finally let it all go. I'm so constrained in my day-to-day that this freedom is bliss. And it's funny as fuck too. If you believe that laughter is the best medicine, then Twitter has in effect doubled my dose. I've known some funny people, but not quite like those I follow on Twitter.
The beauty of Twitter is the 140 character limit. I struggle to find time to blog, but Twitter allows me to, in essence, mini-blog throughout the day. Even though I may not be writing much here, believe me, I'm writing. I still enjoy my protracted purge-fests like this, but like sex, every once in a while a quickie can be just as good, am I right? By Twitter's count I've had lots of good quickies lately. ; ) Author's aside: if that's true then why the fuck am I still so horny? We'll put that away for another time...
Twitter is strangely erotic, and sometimes downright raunchy. But it's never dull, never fails to leave me laughing & wanting more. It's good to know there are others out there that think & feel like me. As much as I've found others who are very much like me, we're also quite diverse, coming from around the world & all angles of the spectrum. Even though it's cyberspace I can solidly say I like some of these people & consider 'em friends, or friends-in-the-making. Twitter is the most stimulating conversation you can have with hundreds of your closest friends, near 24x7. What could be better?
Edit: this next paragraph just came to me & it's too on-point & apropos to omit from this post.
The other gift Twitter gave me is reinforcing the importance of personality & sense of humor. Experience has revealed that looks bring two people together, but it's what inside that keeps 'em together. When I meet a woman character & personality are of the utmost import. Lack of a sense of humor is a deal-breaker. The women I follow on Twitter are probably sicker, funnier, and more interesting than the men. If I have to say that they're sexier too you don't know my very well, but what the fuck, there it is. But it's the words, the attitude that make's them sexy. You take that away & all you're left with is a shell. It's almost like Shallow Hal, with Jack Black. Beauty without brains, character, and humor ends up being pretty boring.
I've also seen how quickly the communal conscience can shift. We're all now so connected that ideas catch fire & spread quickly. That's what Twitter is so goddam good at. I'm all for it, 'cuz I think it makes mobilization of the people faster & more fluid. The world needs change - including the US in a bad way - and sometimes this requires Revolution; not enough time to wait for Evolution. As we've seen in Libya, Egypt, Tunisia, Bahrain, Madison, WI., people are getting more involved, being agitated & therefore becoming activated. Some of the greatest changes in history have started with the groundswell of an idea that grows among the masses via grassroots movements. Twitter just makes that more possible, and more likely.
To wrap this shit up, there was a time I didn't understand what all the buzz was about Twitter. But once I jumped in I found the water was warm, and with many others in the same pool - some naked - I don't think I'm getting out any time soon.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Why is it so hard? That's what she said.
DISCLAIMER: this blog is mine & mine alone. Thou shalt not blame family nor friends nor employer for what you may read here.
I couldn't resist the reference to Michael Scott of The Office. On a total aside & totally unrelated to what I was originally going to write, I'll be interested to see what this show is like once Steve Carell leaves.
Now back to the regularly scheduled programming.
Like (most) everyone else in the US, I'm getting ready to do my taxes. I've used Turbo Tax for the past few years, and it works well. But it begs the question: why is the US tax so fucking complex, so damn hard? It's like Chinese math. I'm a college grad, and I consider myself pretty smart, with occasional moments of brilliance. And even tho I'm a man, I'm pretty good about reading directions. Especially if said directions will prevent the IRS from giving me a rectal audit. So with all this going for me, shouldn't it be feasible for me to do my taxes by hand? Before I bought a house & built some menial investments taxes were easy, 1040EZ or whatever, done by hand, easy peasy. But now? I wouldn't dare. Wouldn't it benefit everyone (save for the IRS) to simplify the tax code? The Congress could use time spent debating & studying tax codes on other efforts. Like getting along for one. We could downsize the IRS & save money in the federal budget. I guess all the tax prep services like H&R Block would be pretty pissed, CPA's might become extinct (most are boring as shit anyway), and the rich would bitch about not having loopholes to exploit, but I won't cry for them, Argentina. So I'm all for it. Implement a flat tax for all & get on with it.
If you haven't seen the show Accidental Genius on the NatGeo channel, you should. Here's the show's web site.
It's a very cool show, and really made me think about the wonder of the human brain, and how little we really know about it. You should definitely watch the episode about the guy that bonked his head while diving into a swimming pool, and after which he was a musical savant. I meant to recommend this show cuz it is well-done & provocative, but it's also a segue to (or maybe from) another thought I had. And that is: how do we wake up with certain songs in our heads? Five days a week my alarm goes off & I get outta bed. And somewhere within the first five minutes of being awake, I have a song running through my head. Often it's a song I haven't heard in quite some time. It's not like I wake up to the last song I was listening to on my iPod, or some ditty from a TV advert. So I gotta wonder, where does this come from? What is it in my brain that recalls this particular song when it does? Super-duper trivial I know, but it still makes me wonder.
I fuckin' hate to do this, but I'm ending this blog entry....now. My thoughts just aren't flowing as they should, and putting together something that I think is informative & entertaining is a struggle today. So before I just spew more bland, perfectly average bullshit, I'm gonna stop. I'll try better next time, I promise, and hopefully have something more worthwhile & cogent to contribute.
I couldn't resist the reference to Michael Scott of The Office. On a total aside & totally unrelated to what I was originally going to write, I'll be interested to see what this show is like once Steve Carell leaves.
Now back to the regularly scheduled programming.
Like (most) everyone else in the US, I'm getting ready to do my taxes. I've used Turbo Tax for the past few years, and it works well. But it begs the question: why is the US tax so fucking complex, so damn hard? It's like Chinese math. I'm a college grad, and I consider myself pretty smart, with occasional moments of brilliance. And even tho I'm a man, I'm pretty good about reading directions. Especially if said directions will prevent the IRS from giving me a rectal audit. So with all this going for me, shouldn't it be feasible for me to do my taxes by hand? Before I bought a house & built some menial investments taxes were easy, 1040EZ or whatever, done by hand, easy peasy. But now? I wouldn't dare. Wouldn't it benefit everyone (save for the IRS) to simplify the tax code? The Congress could use time spent debating & studying tax codes on other efforts. Like getting along for one. We could downsize the IRS & save money in the federal budget. I guess all the tax prep services like H&R Block would be pretty pissed, CPA's might become extinct (most are boring as shit anyway), and the rich would bitch about not having loopholes to exploit, but I won't cry for them, Argentina. So I'm all for it. Implement a flat tax for all & get on with it.
If you haven't seen the show Accidental Genius on the NatGeo channel, you should. Here's the show's web site.
It's a very cool show, and really made me think about the wonder of the human brain, and how little we really know about it. You should definitely watch the episode about the guy that bonked his head while diving into a swimming pool, and after which he was a musical savant. I meant to recommend this show cuz it is well-done & provocative, but it's also a segue to (or maybe from) another thought I had. And that is: how do we wake up with certain songs in our heads? Five days a week my alarm goes off & I get outta bed. And somewhere within the first five minutes of being awake, I have a song running through my head. Often it's a song I haven't heard in quite some time. It's not like I wake up to the last song I was listening to on my iPod, or some ditty from a TV advert. So I gotta wonder, where does this come from? What is it in my brain that recalls this particular song when it does? Super-duper trivial I know, but it still makes me wonder.
I fuckin' hate to do this, but I'm ending this blog entry....now. My thoughts just aren't flowing as they should, and putting together something that I think is informative & entertaining is a struggle today. So before I just spew more bland, perfectly average bullshit, I'm gonna stop. I'll try better next time, I promise, and hopefully have something more worthwhile & cogent to contribute.
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