Things that make you go "What the hell?"

My life is incredibly strange. The thing is I don’t do anything to seek out these completely bizarre events. They just seem to happen around me. Here is the latest one.

So I went out to the bar on Friday night. I had a couple of reasons behind it. I have a few new business ideas that are floating around my head that I wanted to ponder over. Also, the smoking ban is now in effect so I wanted to see how a smoke free bar environment actually worked. (Plus, right before I went there was this massive downpour so I quite expected to discover a half dozen smokers drenched to the bone trying desperately to relight their cigarettes.) But mainly I just needed to get out and think and say hi to my bartending friends.

I get in and take my usual seat at the end of the bar after moving over to let some friends of the staff have some room. As I said, any friend of a bartender is a friend of mine. I was just hanging out and doing my thing, which is sitting, drinking and thinking. Joked with a guy who asked for an ashtray. Typical night, right? Then suddenly someone came over to me and put their arm around me.

“I’m from New York” she slurred, “Where can someone find some fun and dance around here?”
“You’re in the wrong town.” I replied.

She found that funny and would not leave my side for the next ten minutes talking in a manner that I assume was meant to be seductive but was in reality quite funny. First off, she was very upset that I wasn’t big on dancing. Now let’s look at the picture here. I am a guy who is sitting at the corner of a bar by himself on a Friday night. Odds are, if I wanted to dance I wouldn’t be there. Then she started talking about all the subjects she knows in which philosophy and scientology were given roughly equal treatment. Finally she asked “Are you familiar with Einstein?”

Again, we are talking about me here. I’m pretty sure that just by looking at me you would know that not only am I familiar with Einstein but that I can recite entire passages of his work by heart. This might be the most unusual question anyone has ever asked me.

So while she is hovering over me it begins to dawn on me that this picture is entirely wrong. First off, she was previously sitting at the same table as the guy who asked for an ashtray. Second, I don’t typically have people that I have never met and wasn’t even looking at come up to me, ask for me to go party with them, and tell me how amazing I am. But there was something else that was really off. It dawned on me that I was talking to either a) a prostitute, b) a transvestite or c) possibly both. Which wasn’t quite how I expected the night to go.

I finally gave her (I hope) enough of a cold shoulder that she left me alone and she immediately, I mean within a minute, had two other guys in the bar wrapped around her finger. This all turned into great drama when she took off without them. I of course stayed rooted to my end of the bar and realized that sometimes the stories you get from just sitting around are better than anything you could ever come up with.

Best of 120 Minutes: I spent last night at a Jeff Buckley tribute show. For those who know what has been going on in my life as of late you’ll understand that if there is one thing I needed more than anything it is to sit in a bar with a beer in my hand listening to Jeff’s songs. There are points in your life when only Last Goodbye can express what is in your mind. So I was really planning on posting a video of Jeff’s here tonight. However, thanks to the geniuses at Sony Music, I am not allowed to embed his videos from YouTube. Why a label wouldn’t want me to freely promote one of their artists is beyond me. So instead, I’ve decided to post Leonard Cohen’s original version of Halleluiah. Yes, the video is tres bizarre.

A disc you don't own but should

It’s late at night so this will be a shorter post than usual. So instead of my usual ramblings I am going to try to be slightly more direct tonight.

Step One: Please click play on the above video and listen to what is one of the most mesmerizing songs that I have heard in ages.

Step Two: Spend the next ten minutes silently singing the phrase “It’s not over” in a sense of determination and almost vengeful pride.

Step Three: Go to whatever location you purchase music (and I mean purchase, not download without paying) and buy the disc “Wire Waltz” from The Last Town Chorus. I am just amazed at the sound of this disc. I know that I’ve posted the cover of Modern Love before as well but seriously, this is just a standout record. The lap steel is just incredible and seems to be its own force on the disc. I only learned about them this year so I’m slightly behind the coolness curve but they are still way too unknown than should rightfully be the case.

(And yes, I could say that I am unbelievably smitten with Megan Hickey. Anyone who can write, play and sing like that just leaves me in stunned awe. Though based on this song she is also someone I would try desperately not to piss off.)

I’d like to write more but today was filled with interviews with more interviews tomorrow that I really should a) prepare for and b) get some sleep for. But at least things are moving. At some point I should hopefully be gainfully employed. Can’t say that I am looking forward to it but it would make me get up in the morning. That is probably a good thing.

The only constant is change

Wednesday Night Music Club: I can’t believe that I have gone this far without posting a Rilo Kiley clip. Easily one of my favorite bands around. This should be played at high volume at all hours of the day. It would just make the world a better place.

Here is one of those technological advances that we now take for granted except when they disappear. Did some work this morning and then went out for coffee (and was absolutely pissed when Panera was out of decaf, thus making me drink regular and be jittery for the entire day). By the time I got back my internet connection had crashed and I could not get it restarted. I was absolutely screwed. I couldn’t figure out how I was going to get through the day without an internet connection.

I ended up doing some errands that I needed to run at some point but not really right now. I had my entire day scheduled and it was all ruined by my not being able to get online. I seriously could not do any of the work that I had planned on for the day. All of my emails, my customer research, job applications, everything was tied to the internet. Without it my day would be completely lost.

Now I was lucky in that my cable modem did return to its senses and I was able to get most of my work done. The amazing thing though is how in at most ten years everything we have done has been transformed completely by the internet. I had my first commercial internet account fifteen years ago on Prodigy with a 2400 baud modem. I remember being incredibly fancy by buying and configuring a 28.8K external modem a few years later. During the mid-90’s I had to explain to people what the www meant on the bottom of movie ads. I’m not even sure how people looked for jobs back then. I guess they used the classifieds. Now I don’t even read a paper.

I find it scary to think that my childhood experiences are completely foreign to kids today and I’m only 35. I grew up in the pre-cable world with just local channels and black and white sets still littered around the house. Atari was state of the art. Every day we had the local papers delivered and I could sit on the floor and read the comics. We weren’t shuttled around from activity to activity and the entire concept of playing soccer seemed foreign by its very nature. Everything was low tech and paper and pencil. Calling someone was a real event and a long distance call was something special. Even I’m not sure how we arranged to meet people in a public space. I think people brought their own billboards or something.

Maybe I am just stating the obvious here but the world has changed an awful lot from just when I entered college. It’s in a lot of simple and slightly noticed ways. I mean, I argue about the death of record stores but really, they are nearly all vanished. Video rental is a thing of the past. There is more fast food and drive through than ever before with an entire dining concept named “fast casual”. I’m not saying that these are changes for the worse. I just think that having so many changes so quickly is what is adding to our nation’s collective ADD. Nothing stays the same for very long. And everyone needs some touchstones in their lives even if it is a television program.

My day in painstaking detail

For those who are interested in my job search prospects (mainly people who are related to me, are trying to find me a job, or are wishing that I would find employment just so I would stop bugging them during the afternoon) I’ve made some good progress this week. After my barrage of resumes over the past week and a half I have started to pick up some interviews and have also had the wonderful feeling of having companies reach out to me instead of the other way around. Still have no idea what is going to happen, where I may end up (both in terms of location and organization), or when all this will go down. But, at least I feel as though I have things moving in the right direction.

I’m still of two minds as to whether I will tell any potential employers about the blog. On one hand it is a great example of parts of my personality that do not appear on my resume. The creativity, the writing skill, and my dedication are all shown through the four years I’ve had this site up and running. On the other hand, the continued discussion of Star Wars and Lindsey Lohan along with all of my life stories are possibly not the best things to make companies aware of on day one. Oh well, I guess I’ll burn that bridge once I come to it.

(Oh, and my interview suit still fits. Which is pretty lucky for me given that I probably would be hard pressed to pick up a suit that fit in just two days. I could, and I know a tailor who owes me a favor, but I wouldn’t want to risk it. Now I just have to find out where in my apartment I hid all of my ties.)

Strangest thing I’ve had to put on an application: where I went to high school. I’m really confident that that fact isn’t relevant any more. True, my personality has been formed by my high school experience (as I assume everyone’s is) but how should that factor into my ability to get hired? Just seems completely bizarre.

As you can probably see, it is rather tough for me to think up topics now that I’m not working full time. I wish I had a better story for today but here is my daily schedule. Woke up (alarm went off at 9, got out of bed at 10), shower and shaved. Yes, I still shave every day even if I might not have anywhere to go. After downing a bagel I putzed around online for a bit until I decided to leave my apartment for a bit. Hit the record store and picked up the new Alejandro Escovedo and My Morning Jacket discs. Then I picked up some coffee trying to avoid the glares of the baristas who are incredibly pissed at my always ordering decaf even though I always tip.

Went back home, sat down at the laptop, and started scanning the job boards for new postings. Dropped off about seven resumes, including a few for jobs that I’m not entirely sure what they were but at least sounded cool, and then had some lunch (soup and a sandwich). Sent off a handful of emails to friends and took some calls from recruiters. Feeling sufficiently bored I decided to workout, putting in 3.6 miles on the treadmill while listening to “Challengers” by The New Pornographers.

Finished the workout, discovered that I now weigh 193 pounds (only 3 pounds away from no longer being overweight), and took a shower. Called back another recruiter who called while I worked out and then made dinner (chicken breast via George Foreman grill and a baked (ok, microwaved) potato). After some decision making I decided to take my laptop and some paperwork to a coffee shop to spend the evening drinking more coffee, listening to The Polyphonic Spree, and filling out applications. Then I went back home, ripped a few CDs and surfed some pro wrestling websites. I’m now writing the blog and once completed will watch my tape of Hell’s Kitchen.

So if you ever wondered what you do when you are unemployed there you go. At least last night I had dinner at a bar. Today I don’t think I talked to someone who I wasn’t either paying or trying to get to pay me. I’ll try to correct that in the future. Still, better than a day in a cube.

Losing a legend

Like many people I was very bummed this morning when I heard the news about George Carlin’s passing. There have been a number of tributes throughout the day but I figured that I should share my thoughts on the man. He is certainly someone who deserves remembering.

When people ask me where my writing style and my sense of humor came from I usually point to a small number of sources. I always claim Monty Python as an inspiration for showing how absurdity and unbridled creativity can create brilliance. Kurt Vonnegut taught me that one can be funny, literary, sorrowful and thought provoking simply by repeating the words “So it goes” over and over again. And Douglas Adams taught me that depressed robots are incredibly funny. Those have always been my three main influences but in retrospect I think I give George Carlin a bit of a short thrift.

Because I was always a George Carlin fan. Once I outgrew the antics of Gallagher (when I was roughly ten and smashing watermelons became slightly less amusing) I started to watch more and more George Carlin routines. For a little while they were one of the few things my parents did not want me to watch. I lived in a pretty open household so something being too adult for me was really rare and made me want to seek it out more. Especially when all it consisted of was a guy on stage talking. Dirty words couldn’t be that dangerous.

But I think what it really was is that at ten watching George Carlin is going “he said a bad word, that is funny” to being sixteen and realizing “he is using language to subvert itself and that is hysterical.” Because if George Carlin was a master of anything it is being a master of language. There are poets buried in Westminster who did not know the English language as well as George did. Just take his famous football vs. baseball sketch. In it he describes the differences between the two sports by simply looking at the words used to describe them. For example…

(In an upbeat, happy voice) “Baseball is played on a field in a park. The baseball park.”
(In a dour, serious tone) “Football is played on a gridiron in a stadium. Often named Soldier Field or War Memorial Stadium.”

Carlin made you think. To really understand his comedy you needed to think as quickly as he was. Sure, you could laugh at the simple jokes but the deeper meaning is what drew you in. This wasn’t observational humor of Jerry Seinfeld or general wackiness of Robin Williams or the life sucking crappiness of Dane Cook. This was intellectual warfare of the highest order. It was subverting society by using the same words that created society. That is what made the seven words you can’t say on television such a wonderful concept. By being arrested for saying them he became a news story in which you had to discuss the words you cannot say. It just showed the inanity of it all.

At my best, I would like to think that I try to catch some of that brilliance. My snarkiness towards society and stupidity in general. That side of me that wants nothing more than to point out how stupid people with personalized license plates are. That part of me is due to listening to George Carlin. I’m a better writer, and a better person, for having had a chance to listen to his love of words.

That's no moon...

You know, people often tell me “EC, you are such an amazing person that I feel that I should buy you a present just for existing. But I have no idea what to get for someone who is as dazzlingly brilliant as you are. Can you help me?”

Certainly. Thanks to my friends at Gizmodo I now know precisely what I want more than anything in the world. I want my Lego Death Star. Complete with more than a dozen action figures (including a Lego Chewie) and a Tie Bomber to boot. And yes, it is fully operational.

(Ok, there is one thing I want more than a Lego Death Star. But that is a story for another day.)

For some reason I was insanely bored this weekend. That wasn’t the plan and to be honest I can’t be entirely sure why that was the case. The weather was incredibly nice and while my dance card wasn’t filled at least it had more options than it did a year ago. But for some reason I was just sitting around the whole time realizing just how insanely bored I was.

So I did what I always do when I am bored; I went out and bought CDs. Picked up four over the past twenty four hours and will order a few more online as well. (For those who know why I buy CDs this may be a little worrisome. It’s not that bad, honest.) It dawned on me though that going out and buying CDs is not just a rare event but it is one that will soon be a complete relic of an earlier time.

You can see it in the stores. Borders has seriously cut back on its music section, which is a shame because they had a great selection even if it was horrendously overpriced. But you could always find something interesting there. I have one vaguely independent store by me and they have been really bad at stocking new releases recently. I think they have come to the conclusion that it isn’t in their best interest any more to pick up copies of all the new stud that I, but no one else, would be interested in listening to. I even think some bands are getting in on the act, where if you want the physical CD you need to go through their website.

This bothers me greatly. Now I know that I am old fashioned in that I don’t get my music online. First off, I want to pay for music, which strikes a lot of people as odd. There is a theory that music is simply data and data wants to be free. I can understand that but there is the fact that the people who create the music (a group of people I know all too well) need to be compensated. Even the thought that the bands make it up by playing live doesn’t hold up because gas prices are just killing touring bands this summer. But the other thing is that there is something really fundamental about holding something in your hand. To have a CD that you have to pull out of a case, a case that sits in a rack that exposes to the world what you listen to, that is all essential to being a music fan.

And the past two days I did something that I could never do online. I just wandered the aisles of a record store looking for nothing in particular. When I saw something that caught my eye I picked it up. Sure you can browse online but you never have that corner of your eye experience. All of the computer logic and suggestions will never live up to the best disc you ever heard that was picked up on a lark because you liked the cover art. Or the ability to just spend time wandering on, doing nothing of great import, surrounded by people who are all pursuing that same feeling of wonder they get when you listen to a disc for the first time.

When record stores go away it will be a sad day indeed. Computers are wonderful and all but sometimes you just have to walk down the aisles and hear the clacks of cases as you flip through the racks.

Best of 120 Minutes: Thought that I’d post a video from a band whose place in music history is still debatable, Midnight Oil. Debatable in that I could argue that they are one of the greatest bands of all time. I think they are just outstanding. But I’ve heard otherwise. Still, you have to like any band whose lead singer goes into politics and becomes Minister of the Arts.

An epic of light

One of the ideas that has been bothering me recently is the thought that I have yet to do anything epic with my life yet. I assume this is because I am approaching middle age and hence, the inevitable mid-life crisis. Some people would point out that I am just turning 35 and thus not technically at the midpoint of my life yet. My response is a) you haven’t paid much attention to the way I live and b) I don’t have that much faith in the state of the planet and the people who inhabit it. At best, it is fair to say that I can see the midpoint from here.

So I’m at the age where I start to look upon the whole of my life and wonder what it all adds up to. The fact is that there is no one great moment I can point to. No moment of supreme excellence or happiness or joy that would seem to account for all of my years spent roaming the Earth. I think we all feel that we have some epic event inside of ourselves. Part of it is a result of our viewing ourselves as the hero of a movie. Of course that has to be some climax to the story. But for me, a lot of it is due to what I know that I am capable of. Call it arrogance but I know how smart I am and the type of soul I am and I know that when I combine those two things and give it all I have then wonderful things will happen.

But so far I don’t think it has. Yes, I’ve accomplished a lot. Been the top student at a number of locations, which is nice but not something that gets remembered. I’ve done good work at jobs I’ve liked, excellent work at jobs I disliked and was an ambivalent slacker with unlimited internet access for the rest. I made a minor difference on the positive side of the ledger but again, nothing earth shattering. I’ve lived a good life, made some friends, only acquired a few mortal enemies but no grandiose moments. I can’t even say that I’ve passed along my genetic code to a little one scurrying about my house. That is a bit sad given that you don’t even need an instruction manual to achieve that; in fact many people accomplish it by not being able to understand an instruction manual.

This all leaves me at an interesting point. I don’t question what I’ve accomplished in the least and I am pleased with my life. Yes, there are things that I would do differently and I really did think I’d be married by now but nothing that results in my curling up in a ball and sitting in the corner. But I just want something more. I want something bigger than this.

There is a movie I heard about once that discusses what heaven is. In heaven you are told that you get to relive one day of your life over and over again for all of eternity. You get to choose your happiest, your proudest moment of your entire existence. I don’t think I’ve had that moment yet. I’ve had some wonderful ones to be sure but I haven’t had that one moment of pure joy. Of epic bliss.

This weekend is the summer solstice; the longest day of the year. As is tradition I always remember the line from The Great Gatsby in that we never celebrate the longest day of the year. We look forward to it but never do anything to enjoy it. Maybe something epic will happen on that day. Gatsby would be proud.

Many thoughts, no cohesion

Well I set some sort of record today. I was rejected for a job four hours after dropping off a resume. That is rather impressive. I mean, the turnaround time on that is extraordinary. To go through a company’s HR system so quickly and have it be so obvious that this guy does not even deserve a second glance and we should just email his sorry ass immediately in four hours is really amazing. It’s also quite depressing. Luckily I’ve been rejected via email before. True, those were from women I wanted to date but the idea is the same.

(Still, screw you Safeco. The Mariners suck anyway.)

I saw a headline on CNN today about people with Empathy Deficit Disorder. What a bunch of pansies. What type of loser can’t feel empathy for another human being?

As I mentioned on Sunday I now have a 7 disc Best of the 90’s in my car. This means that I had the wonderful experience of pulling out of my driveway with U Can’t Touch This playing at full volume. There is something incredibly enjoyable about doing that. Yes, it’s horrible but man you’ll be smiling for the next several hours.

Here is a job hunting hint that it took me until today to discover. When you are applying to a lot of jobs across various websites write down what companies you are applying to. It will save you a lot of headaches later on down the line. I discovered today that I applied to the same job three different times. On one hand, my odds of success have now tripled. On the other hand, I did indicate to the company that I don’t have a freaking clue how to use a computer. It’s going to be a tough call.

It’s become a daily habit of mine to walk to one of the neighborhood coffee shops every morning. It gets me out of the apartment, provides me with a tad bit of exercise and most importantly, keeps me from ever trying to make coffee myself. However, I could do without the look of disdain I get from the employees. I walk in, look at the wide array of espressos and cappuccinos and impressive blends available, and say “yeah, can I have a decaf. No cream or sugar either.” I think they all hate me.

When they write the biography of my life (and they will, given that I sold the rights to my life story a few years ago) I’m really confident that an entire chapter will be spent trying to figure out how the guy who quotes Ulysses can also name the main event to every Wrestlemania in history.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. There are two ways you can look at life. You can view it as a tragedy or you can view it as a farce. And I choose farce. Laughter is so much better than tears even if it means you occasionally get a pie in your face.

Wednesday Night Music Club: For some reason I’ve been listening to a lot of Gillian Welch this week. Thought I’d share it with the class. Enjoy.

I could be the fifth dentist!

(Note on last night’s comment. Yes, asking on how many sentences are in the last chapter of Ulysses is trivial. Hence it being used in a trivia contest. But the last chapter is, in my mind, the most important chapter in all of English literature and in my copy is 45 pages long. If you read a 45 page chapter that only had 8 sentences you would remember it.)

I received possibly the strangest job search related email ever this morning. Due to my healthcare background I was offered a position as an Associate Dentist. Let’s go through this one in detail, shall we? First off, outside of being well acquainted with emergency rooms due to my surprising skill at injuring myself in new and imaginative ways I have no healthcare background. I have one degree in electrical engineering and another in finance. I’ve never worked for a company that has had anything to do with healthcare. Unless nuclear power is somehow now good for your health but I somehow doubt that.

Now even if you were confused by my background wouldn’t you think that to be offered a job as a dentist you would have had to do something, well, dental related at some point in your life. Seriously, let’s say you were a nurse you couldn’t immediately switch to being a dentist. I assume you’d have to take a class or something. If bartenders need to have a license I assume dentists would have to, I don’t know, show an aptitude at enjoying other people’s pain. I just don’t see random emails as the best way to recruit dentists.

Oh, and what was the salary offer? Up to $250K. I kid you not. I apparently really chose the wrong profession. I should apply just to see what happens. I would just look at everyone’s mouth, say “Oh yeah, everything is fine” and then collect the checks until someone figured out what was going on.

It’s strange spending time on job boards and just blindly sending resumes out into the ether. I know it isn’t the proper way to do it but for the moment it is how I want to get started. Find some postings, drop off my info, and see if I get any bites. It’s a bit nerve wracking and humbling because let’s be honest, it’s not as if I’m not qualified to work for a living. I’ve collected a number of pieces of paper that state very plainly that I am intelligent. But that doesn’t mean I get an interview, or a look, or that my resume doesn’t just disappear into some HR wasteland.

Yes, I am networking and I need to do more of it. I do have a few irons in the fire, which is nice. It’s just that I’m still trying to figure out who I am and what I want to do next. And the thing is, what I do for a living isn’t really the most important thing to me anymore. Yes, I want a nice job where I make good money and, in a perfect world, provides me with a cube with a window. But more than anything I just want to be happy. It’s been one hell of a struggle to actually be that and now that I am I really don’t want to give it up. Somehow on all of the postings no one has ever written “This job will bring you fulfillment.” It would be really nice if they did.

History is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake...

EC in his much younger days (8 years ago to be exact with bad hair and worse glasses) standing at the top of Martello Tower outside of Dublin with his completed copy of Ulysses.)

So last week I was allowed to write all of the categories for trivia. It’s a long story, and yes I could have probably have publicized the game here, but for now I want to raise to attention one of the few questions that I asked that no one answered correctly. Now to put this in context, three teams knew that Jabba the Hutt’s sidekick / court jester is named Salacious Crumb. But the following question had no correct responses.

“How many sentences are in the last chapter of James Joyce’s “Ulysses”?
No one answered it correctly. The most important book in English literature and the most famous chapter and no one could recall how many sentences it contained. That just astounds me. I knew the answer not just because I wrote the question but because I read the book. And I didn’t even read it for a class.

(The answer is 8 by the way.)

Since today is Bloomsday I feel as if I might as well give some of my recollections on reading James Joyce and what his works mean to me. Now I’ll be honest, he isn’t one of the easiest writers to grow accustomed to. I think it took me nearly ten years to read Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. It was the ultimate challenge for me. I just could not make it through this one section. But I’m glad I did.

The earliest place to start is his short story collection of Dubliners and specifically his masterpiece The Dead. If you can only bring yourself to read one of his stories choose this one. It is a snapshot of life in Dublin and of those moments of self-doubt and self-awareness that plague us all. There is also a funny drunk guy, which is a nice addition, and an ending that has stayed with me to this day. And I’ve stood where Michael Furey stood in Galway, gazing up at the window of his true love.

Maybe that is what I can use as an example of what Joyce means to me. I’ve traveled Ireland to just stand in the places where his stories occur. I know that sounds strange and it probably is. It just felt important to me to be where these characters theoretically stood. It helped to make the works more real and after spending time with the characters they were real people to me. I want to walk where Bloom walked and stand where Stephen Daedalus, maybe my favorite name in all of literature, stood.

There is an immense power to Joyce’s writing but it is a hidden one. People tend to be scared off either by the size or the nature of his work. They try to start with Finnegan’s Wake, a book where if you read three pages a week and understand them you are doing a good job. Or they see the size of Ulysses and begin to flinch. But that isn’t where the power is hidden. It is in the words and the poetry and the little flourishes that catch your eye. You truly can’t experience everything on the first read. Even a story like The Dead, which I have read numerous times, still catches me by surprise.

Yes, I’m a bit of a book geek. Joyce is not an easy read. I’m not sure if you would even call it a fun read. But it is an enlightening read. One can’t find genius without putting in a little effort. Read Joyce and you will learn about what it is like to be human. To see how flawed we all are. And to learn that every person is their own epic story. It’s an amazing thing.

What dreams may come

(I’ve been struggling for a topic for the past hour. I have no idea if what I write next is going to work but here it goes.)

A few years ago I read this theory that we create the universe we perceive. To be honest, I think it is the idea behind that whole “The Secret” phenomenon that takes up way too much space in bookstores. The thought is that what we experience and encounter, everything that happens to us, is all a result of our own consciousness. To that effect, if you truly set your mind to something happening it will happen. The universe will bend to your volition.

This is obviously the biggest load of crap ever created. It certainly sounds nice and sells and awful lot of videos and DVDs because it creates this view of God as Santa Claus. “Just ask the universe and it will be given to you, no questions asked.” That is comforting if all you want is stuff and don’t want to put in any effort in return. To be honest, that is not what I dislike about the theory. Sure, that is disgusting but it isn’t bothersome. The following idea is.

Let’s assume that this theory is correct and that my life is truly a collection of all of my conscious and subconscious desires. All of my experiences are molded by my mind. If that is the case why has my life been so unsatistfying? I know that sounds horrible but every single person on the planet can say that about their own lives. Am I to believe that all of my sadness and pain, all of the embarrassment and anger, every negative situation that I have ever encountered has all been of my own doing? That I truly wanted to be miserable? That I wanted to be dumped in college and then spend six months moping about? That I wanted to spend a New Year’s Eve looking around an empty apartment wondering if anyone in the world felt as alone as I did? You’re telling me that I desired that to happen?

It’s why I hate it when people create a world view in which wishing makes it so. It doesn’t. Whether it is fair or not really doesn’t matter. Until I am handed life’s official rule book I’m not sure I even understand what the concept of fair is. Sometimes you can do everything you can and still fail. Not everything will fall your way. That doesn’t mean you failed to create the universe you desire. It just means that you are a flawed human being living in an imperfect world being guided by an ineffable plan. Get used to disappointment.

I still believe in the power of having a positive mental attitude. I think that if you imagine happiness and believe that it is all around you then you will suddenly find yourself in a better place. That isn’t because the fabric of time and space are altered. It’s just that you are opening yourself up to the experience. We all tend to live closed lives because the unknown is scary. We can get hurt. But if you aren’t open you can’t truly call yourself alive. I’ve realized this a lot recently. I often wonder if I’ve wasted a lot of my life. From an objective standpoint I haven’t. My resume shows off all of my accomplishments and I’m damn proud of them. I just don’t know if they mean anything. I just wish I had been more open to life earlier.

My life is still in front of me. My dreams are going to come true. Not because of some hokey idea that by thinking about it they will come true. There will be some dark times in the mix but as long as I relish being alive, take pleasure in the sheer fact that I have somehow found myself and am proud of who I am, then I don’t think there is any other possibility. How could your dreams not come true?

Best of 120 Minutes: Kicking it old school (well, oldish school) with Letters to Cleo tonight.



The random CD for the week:
1) Whatever: The 90s Pop and Culture Box (7 discs, 130 songs, all from the 90s. Best. Collection. Ever)

I'll try to remember the unicorns this time...

For those in the Kansas City area I would just like to inform everyone that my work on the ark is nearly complete and I am beginning to round up two of every animal. At the present moment there is still an argument as to whether the stink beetles really need to come aboard and I would really appreciate it if the three toed sloths would hurry up a bit but I’m happy so far. Much like I am constantly looking for someone to be the Zelda to my F. Scott, if someone wants to be my, uh, Noah’s wife (or at least steady girlfriend) to my Noah I’m more than willing to accept applications.

In other words, it has been raining like mad the past few hours and it has been doing this for weeks on end. It’s like I’m living in Seattle just without the mountains and the coffee and the culture. I think I could swim down my street right now. As always I blame Al Gore for this. If we didn’t know why this was happening then we could just call it a freak of nature. Now we have to be aware it is our own damn fault. Jerk.

Been struggling for a few minutes now to think up a topic. To be honest it has been a long couple of weeks for me. Just a whole bunch of stuff that at first started to happen around me and then began to hit me more and more directly. At some point the whole blissful mood that I was in was going to have to take a bit of a hit and it did. But I’ve done what I always do. I pick myself up, dust myself up, go “I’m bleeding. Sweet!”, and get ready for the next battle. Life is still way too much fun to get caught up in a few minor details that don’t go your way.

So with that I’ve been applying to more and more jobs though I have yet to hear back from anybody. I guess that is the problem with Monster and CareerBuilder; there is a whole black hole aspect to the sites. I drop off resumes and they just disappear into the ether even for jobs I am more than qualified for. I want to find something in the next few weeks but I’m not sure when or where or how it will happen. There is no big rush, I live on the cheap any way, and my life is interesting enough without spending 40+ hours a week in a beige box but I need to start making that next step.

I guess what I want to say is that this past week has taught me that complaining about life gets you nowhere and all it results in is you forgetting all the incredible moments that you’ve just had. Life is just too short and I often wonder if I’ve wasted parts of mine, which would be an incredible shame. But I’m trying to relish every moment and experience everything the world has to offer. As Warren Zevon said before he died “Enjoy every sandwich.”

Let’s have Carbon Leaf take us home. Enjoy the weekend everybody.

More forgotten television shows...

Let’s return to the glory days of television. Or at least back to when I was in college and had an awful lot of free time…

It’s strange to think of a time when Fox wasn’t a mainstream network. Right now it is strange to even think of just having the big three networks. With American Idol, 24 and The Simpsons it is hard to think of a network that has more tent pole shows on their lineup. But back in the early 90’s Fox was still trying to find its way and was throwing out any idea that seemed interesting. Some of this resulted in greatness like It’s Garry Shandling’s Show or In Living Color. Others were rather forgettable (Mantis anyone?). And then there was Herman’s Head.

This was a show built entirely on a concept. The main plot of the show was as completely typical as a sitcom could be. This guy (Herman) works in an office and struggles with romance while meeting marginally wacky characters. That wouldn’t even make it past the pitch meeting. Except that during the episode we peer inside Herman’s head and see what is going on with his psyche with four characters representing sensitivity, lust, anxiety and intellect. So instead of using clever dialogue and acting skill to display his inner turmoil they literally displayed his inner turmoil.

It wasn’t nearly as silly as you would think. In fact, you quickly preferred watching what was going on inside his head (which was funny because the aspects were so well defined and the interactions so enlightening) than what was happening to him in real life (which was standard sitcom fare other than the woman who voiced Lisa Simpson was one of the characters.) To see the different sides of his personality in conflict and influencing his actions was always interesting. I always cheered on the intellect of course and was always pleased to see how flustered he could be when the others got their way. It just seemed so natural.

I’ve been thinking about the show a lot recently because it dawned on me that is really how my brain works. In my instance I can sum it up more as having an emotional side and a rational side. Now typically the rational side runs the show. In fact, the emotional side tends to get shunted off into a corner and will occasionally meekly raise its voice only to have the rational side “We’ve been through this. You get no say in the matter.” This is due to those moments when my emotional side does run things because, well, if you would like to use a nautical analogy my emotional side tends to dash us against the rocks even when there are no rocks to be found.

But as I’ve thought about the past few weeks I can really see it as being the two sides of me working sometimes in tandem and sometimes separately. They were on the same page, which is rare. Then over the weekend the emotional side won out, resulting in much time on the couch in self-pity. I’m back being rational again. Things make sense. Maybe not in reality but I’ve gotten the equations to work out (given some assumptions, a couple of leaps of intuition and a few accidental sign errors). And it’s nice being back to normal. At least I now know that the emotional side can hold its own for a little bit.

For the upbeat song of the night I’m going with The Flaming Lips. Here is a line from a review: “The confetti, balloons and fanfare are all secondary to the message: Love hurts, everyone dies, simple things are usually the most amazing, life is tragic and magic all at once, and every day gives us a reason to be excited.” I think this song expresses it all and more and includes people in bunny suits.

Will you be my friend?

Now I’ve been pretty upfront in stating that I find Facebook to be a strange and interesting place. The entire purpose of the site is up for debate. Yes it is a useful way to stay in touch with people though I don’t understand how it is any different than e-mail in that regard. You get to show the world who you are by the things you like; defining yourself by other people’s creative endeavors. That’s not exactly the best thing in the world. Want to tell the world about yourself? Start a blog. Everything you need to understand me is on this site somewhere. And as soon as someone explains to me what the hell “poke” means I’ll be a much happier person.

But for the most part I enjoy my time on the site. It’s just that this week I had a rather strange friend request. It wasn’t from an old high school classmate (though I just had one of those) or from some vague work colleague of mine (which I have a number of). No, I received notification of the following:

“Kansas City wants to be my friend.”

As in the city itself has asked to be my friend. This is rather disturbing. I have had a hard enough time in my life making friends with real people. I typically keep few friends but those that I do have I cherish to a great degree. But I tend not to become friends with inanimate objects. Not even my laptop, which has seen more of me than anyone, is considered a friend. A trusted colleague to be sure but not a friend. Now the city itself is asking me for friendship.

It’s an interesting change of events because for much of the past five years this city has been anything but my friend. It doesn’t qualify as an enemy or a nemesis more like that dude you know who is a friend of a friend that continually gets under your nerves. He constantly says the wrong things, dresses in a manner that bugs you and never seems to buy you a round. I wasn’t welcome to this town with open arms but at least it wasn’t disdain either. We’ve mellowed with each other as the years have gone by and for some reason we are on good terms right now. So maybe I should view this as a bit of a reconciliatory gesture by the city. After all this time of fighting me it has decided to try to be friends with me.

Still, I’m trying to figure out what type of friendship would this be. Would the city help me move? Would it bail me out if I had a really bad night at the bars? Could the city be my wingman on a Saturday night going “Of every person in the city, this guy is the best of the bunch. Trust me, I know”. Will it have my back if I get in a fight in the suburbs? These are the sorts of things I need to know before I confirm my friendship.

Also, for those wondering Kansas City is interested in friendship and networking. I guess that is a good thing. I’m not sure what it would mean if the city was interested in dating. But given the whole KCK-KCMO situation I’m pretty sure it’s relationship status is “It’s complicated.”

Upbeat music for the day: A Gomez song about traveling and finding yourself. “It’s the things that are given not won are the things that you want.”

Now with extra snout...

While walking to a coffee shop this afternoon I passed a guy jogging down the sidewalk. I guess on its own that really isn’t too surprising a sentence. Yes, I now drink coffee in the afternoon and people exercise. None of that is worthy of a blog post, no matter how lazy I am at thinking up a topic. However, what a woman driving by yelled at the jogger was rather amazing. As she drove by she yelled

“What are you running from?”

That’s a rather significant question for a Monday afternoon. I ask that myself much of the time. What the hell am I running from anyway? And what does it mean that I work out on a treadmill where I run away but never go anywhere? I think I will need to ponder that one for a while. Maybe there is some deep seated issue that I must still address. Either that or admit that other people are better at puns than I am.

Side note # 1: There is nothing more depressing than checking Facebook and seeing Online Friends: 0. First off, it seems to imply that you have no friends, which is a rather sad discovery. Then you realize it just means that there is no one to waste time chatting with so you feel a little better about yourself. That is until you realize that every person you know is therefore doing something more productive than staring at a computer screen at that moment and you begin to feel very small indeed.

Side note # 2: Good news in that it appears that my car is now fixed. Had a battery that was dying but was not completely dead. I luckily survived a weekend with it (especially given that the issue started when I was leaving trivia and it would not have been the best time or place to have a car issue). I guess I can take pride in that I correctly guessed what was wrong and still feel slightly inadequate in that I had no clue how to fix it. At least I sounded intelligent describing it to the mechanic. That might be the definition of a minor victory.

Side note # 3: So McDonald’s is no longer going to serve tomatoes. Apparently, this is due to a health scare and may not be a long term decision. However, I really feel a need for McDonald’s to consider this a long term measure. First off, I’m not sure that we can consider them to be tomatoes. Vaguely red pieces of plastic could also be a possibility. Also, since we all know that eating at McDonald’s is by nature an unhealthy experience, where the negative coronary impact is offset by the awesomeness of the French fries, why do we even put on this false front of having supposedly healthy toppings? Screw tomatoes, I want quadruple bacon on mine. Actually, give me as many parts of a pig as you can find and just randomly add it to the top. How awesome would it be to find that you got some pig’s feet with your burger?

Side note # 4: Until I get back to completely being myself (I’m close now but still probably have a few days to go) I’m going to have some uplifting music with every post. That is a bit of a challenge if you know what my CD collection is like. I’m sorry, I’m just the type of guy who wears black when everyone else wears tie-dyes. But, here is a good Wilco song to close us out.

The Lucky One

So I’ve just been through a few days of wallowing in self-pity. This happens occasionally and I assume that everyone goes through it. A few events happen and your psyche just suddenly explodes into this whole mess of emotions and irrational feelings and misdirected despair. Right now I don’t want to focus on the reason because I have a strong belief that it has been if not corrected it is at least repaired to the point of satisfaction. What I want to write about is how silly it is for me to ever go woe is me. Which is precisely what I was doing.

To call myself lucky and blessed is an incredible understatement. Let’s just start with where I find myself. Right now, there are roughly 6.7 billion people on the planet with 300 million in the US. In terms of Net Worth per Capita, with the exception of Switzerland and Luxembourg, I live in the wealthiest country in the world, which is a 4.5% probability. Just slightly better odds than flipping a coin five times and having it land heads every single time.

Now look at the environment where I was raised. Both my parents graduated college. While I didn’t lead a privileged life (didn’t have my own room until I was 13 and lost it when I was 16) it was as comfortable as could be. Was educated in private schools, never had to worry about any of the essentials, had more than enough toys and gadgets, had a computer in 1984 (Commodore 64 but still, I was programming when I was 10), and grew up in a house where books and reading was the norm. I have a family that loves me and supports me in everything I have ever done. It’s all rather amazing.

I’ve been blessed with an intelligence that allowed me to study electrical engineering in one of the top schools in the world on the subject. When I grew tired of the workplace and my successful career I decided to go to another world renowned school to study finance despite the fact that I had no background in it. I succeed there, head off to another career and when I grow tired of it I have the confidence to walk out into the future without any plans in hand. Because I simply know that I will find my way.

I’ve been to Europe five times. I’ve twice flown to Mexico to be a guest at a wedding in which I was one of a handful of Americans. I’ve had dinner with someone from every continent. On a regular basis I will get emails from around the world asking how I am doing. I have friends who will come to my aid in an instant for no reason other than they know that I would do the same.

I had the time and the ability to read the ten greatest novels of the 20th century. I take a week to read a Shakespeare play every year. I have the freedom to sit down and write whatever I feel like night after night and people I have never met read it and comment on it. I have a mind that allows me to run statistical regressions one minute and write a novel the next. I’ve experienced life and love and have memories and stories from all of it.

How lucky am I? How can I ever curse fate and wonder why me? What are the odds of my life? It’s staggering to think just how lucky and blessed I am. There are times that things don’t go the way I wish. Not every moment is perfect even though I wish it was. And while that might suck it sure doesn’t justify feeling sorry for myself. People dream about the life I have been given. If you plopped them in my skin they wouldn’t be lying on the couch going “woe is me”. They’d be celebrating every single moment they have.

Life can get me down when things don’t follow my visions. But I should never for an instant question what I have been given. Just being on this planet, having everything that is wonderful and amazing surrounding me, is a gift beyond belief. And for some reason, one that I will never understand, I was blessed with a thousand additional wonders that I hope I put to good use. As long as I keep that in mind there is never any reason for me to get too down. Besides, who knows what is going to happen next? Just because things don’t go according to plan doesn’t mean your dreams aren’t going to come true.

I posted Freedy Johnston’s version of this song a few weeks ago. I’ll add in Mary Lou Lord’s cover tonight. I can’t explain the anime but it is rather cool. And I am lucky.

There is no life I know that compares...

Back when I was younger I used to have this recurring dream. I can’t call it a nightmare or anything that dramatic. It is just that every once in a while I would find myself confronted by a staircase and that would be the focal point of the entire dream.

For some reason, it was impossible for me to climb this staircase. It was never very steep, in fact it typically resembled this extremely shallow hotel ballroom staircase I saw once when I was fifteen. It was as if it was so shallow that it was impossible to climb. In my dreams I would stumble and crawl and try to inch my way to the top before falling in a heap at the bottom. This went on for years. I would try and try only to fail.

Then one night I had this amazing dream. I was running around this medieval castle, encouraged by the young maiden who looked vaguely like a girl I was dating at the time. I dodged arrows, made my way over the moat across a balance beam and broke into the castle. It was as if I was caught in a combination of Dungeons and Dragons and American Gladiators. But then, once I made it inside I was met by my nemesis: the staircase.

For the first time I knew that for me to move forward in my life I was going to have to make it up this staircase. Whatever my future held in store for me as a person was waiting for me at the top. In all of my dreams I never had this feeling. My destiny was right in front of me.

I walked and fell and crawled and climbed. There was a digital clock reading down the seconds I had left to reach the top. All around me other people were walking up as easily as could be. Whatever this was, whatever challenge I was facing, was one that was mine and mine alone.

I gave every ounce of my strength to move one step closer to the top. It was a battle within myself to keep moving forward, to not give in to temptation and just slide back down to the bottom. To fight instead of taking the easy way out and settling for failure. With seconds left on the blinking clock I jumped and threw myself at the top of the landing. I had finally reached the top.

When I pulled myself up I found myself staring down what looked like a hotel corridor. It was a long, carpeted hallway with doors evenly spaced as far as you could see. As I stood there I realized that everything I dreamed of was behind one of those doors. All I had to do was find and open it. Everything I had hoped for, everything that I had ever envisioned my life to be, was waiting for me on the other side of one of these doors. I just had to choose the right one and all of my dreams would come true.

I looked around, saw the door that I knew was the right one, lowered my shoulder and smashed right through it.

And then I woke up.


I truly believe that the world of our dreams is there for us to enjoy if we would just open our eyes and our hearts and embrace it. I know that I have failed in the past but it is out there. I’ve experienced moments of pure happiness that cannot be explained any other way. And I would do anything in my power, run through any wall, in order to hold onto those moments and not let go.

I’ll probably be singing this song to myself as I fall asleep tonight. If there wasn’t a torrential downpour outside right now I would probably try to find a field where I could look up at the stars and sing the entire song. Star, star. Teach me how to shine. Teach me so I know what is going on in your mind.



Have a good weekend everyone. Back on Sunday.

I'm trying to watch my stories here...

Kansas City is a strange town when it comes to the news. I hate to say it, but it really is a AAA town. It isn’t the major leagues out here. Sure, there are some decent reporters but there is always something that is just a little bit off about everything they do. Little things like never showing out of town scores or covering high school sports with just a little too much interest. News reports focusing on the fact that the American Idol happens to be from here. Those sorts of things.

Last night was another example of this. While I was out last evening running errands I got caught in the rain. That is not a major news event as such so I didn’t expect to have cameras following me. Now in this part of the country when it rains it freaking rains so not only was I listening to Yoda and using the force because I couldn’t see the road thanks to the fact that the sewer system is older than Yoda I would occasionally hit standing water that could technically be considered a small stream. Given that I drive the little Grand Am that could, the concept of my being washed away was not theoretical last night.

But I made it home (thanks to the fact that I know how to drive in bad weather) and turned on the television to find that all of the local stations were showing breaking news reports on two major stories. The first was the rain where the news was, well, it was raining outside. Yes, it was really heavy and some of the streets were flooded and there was a lot of lightning but all of that information could be conveyed by looking out the window. It wasn’t a breaking news story. Yet every few minutes I was watching radar images of what was outside my window.

The other story, and the slightly more interesting one, was that lightning had hit a fuel storage tank causing roughly a million gallons of gasoline to go up in flames. Now this is a story. Maybe not one that causes you to preempt Hell’s Kitchen (grumble, grumble, grumble) but it is a story. I just couldn’t comprehend the non-stop coverage of it. This is what I know. 1) There was a fire. 2) No one was injured. 3) From as much as anyone could tell, the smoke wasn’t dangerous. 4) Pretty much no one was being evacuated and it was in a very industrial part of time. 5) Pictures of massive fires look really cool on television.

Number five was the reason this was on the air all night. It was just the fact that the pictures were really cool with flames shooting up nearly 100 feet into the air. But still, how is this more exciting than Hell’s Kitchen. It’s the one show I schedule my life around but no, I have to watch the news.

Oh, and I do like the fact that it took 15 minutes into the newscast for the stations to go “Oh yeah, Obama sealed the nomination. That’s historic or something.”

Wednesday Night Music Club: I’m in a bit of a New Orleans mood tonight so here is one of my favorite bands from there, the subdudes. Yes, at one point the video turns into an interview but I am including it because a) I really like the song and b) it emphasizes the fact that they don’t have a drummer but rather a guy who just plays tambourine. Pretty cool.

What is in your heart...

“A risk is worth a thousand dreams.” Jim McCormick

I’m a born dreamer. There is no way around it. Maybe you could even call me a Walter Mitty type figure. I imagine worlds of what might be and spend a surprising amount of time there. Some of them are pure fantasies (I doubt that I will be playing lead guitar in a rock band any time soon) and some, such as that of a writing career, at least have some basis in reality. But they all have one thing in common; they all stay on the dream side of the ledger and are never acted upon.

Why is that? Why can you create a fantasy world in your head and not attempt to find it in reality? It is something I have struggled with for a very long time. I can get lost in my dreams. Sometimes I prefer the imagined world, one where I can control every aspect, to the one I spend my existence in. I’ve had relationships fall apart because I had mistaken the person in my fantasy with the one who was truly before me. I’m not proud of it, being creative and fanciful is all fine and good but at the end it is how you convert those dreams into reality that matters. And more often than not I am content to lead a humdrum existence and a rich fantasy life as opposed to the other way around.

It all comes down to daring and courage, I think. The reason I enjoy my dreams is that I am in charge of them. No one can order me around; there are no outside forces that are beyond my control. It is the one moment in life where I know what will happen next. But when you try to act upon your dreams there is always that risk of failure. It is true that you could live happily ever after but you can also fail and I hate to fail. I don’t want to admit that I am not perfect. I know that I am not (I might be arrogant but I’m not stupid) but I don’t want to be reminded of the fact. Or maybe it is just because of the fact that I might not be able to achieve what I want to have. There is a part of me that prefers not trying to knowing that I was unable to accomplish what was in my heart.

I’m working like mad right now to try to change that aspect of my personality. I’m tired of not trying. My life has been one safe path after another and I’m not sure if I’m happy with where that has gotten me. Sure, I’ve been successful but I doubt that I have maximized my enjoyment of life. It’s why I’m sitting here wondering where I should go next in my life. I’m not just talking about my job, though that is certainly a part of it. Pretty much every part of my life is being reevaluated. I just want to take a chance. For once, for one brief moment, I really want to see if I can turn my dreams into reality.

It’s always a danger when you put one foot in front of the other. The earth should rise up to meet you and all will be well. Sometimes you might fall. But every once in a while when you fall you fly. I guess I shall find out soon enough.

The next five random CDs
1) Cowboy Junkies “Onesoulnow”
2) David Ford “Songs For The Road”
3) Jack Johnson “Sleep Through the Static”
4) Wilco “A Ghost is Born”
5) Various Artists “Born to Choose”

Maybe a heart shaped box would be too ironic...

Here is what I call an ominous start to your day. I had a dream last night in which I was convinced that I had a paper due this morning that I forgot to do over the weekend. I ran through my class schedule and realized that I completely overlooked a two page report for religion class. I realized that I could probably bluff something together at the last moment if I was able to sit down at my laptop and start typing.

I woke up and was literally halfway out of bed and on my way to my office when I realized the following. 1) I’m no longer in school. 2) I haven’t had a paper due for a religion class in 17 years. 3) Even if I had a paper due, I’ve earned a number of degrees since then so I doubt that my completing this assignment is really that big of a deal. But I swear I was convinced for a second that I needed to work on a class I am not taking. I don’t know if I can take this as a good sign.

However, when I did actually get to my office I was able to see a lighting strike a block away from me. It was cool as all get out. I had the blinds open (as this is probably the only time in my life when I will actually have an office with a window) and just saw this massive flash out of the corner of my eye. Turned to see black smoke start rising from behind a building across from me and a rumble of thunder that shook the building for a good twenty seconds. I just find it amazing that this is nature and we don’t really pay any attention to it. Sure, nothing wrong with giant bolts of electricity to come rocketing out of the sky at random moments. No issues with that at all.

Switching gears, did everyone hear the story of Kurt Cobain’s ashes being stolen? Well, it is currently being assumed that they are stolen. There is certainly a measurable probability that Courtney Love simply misplaced them. However, like most people I am quite concerned that Kurt’s final resting place was within a pink, teddy bear shaped handbag. I’m not making that up. That’s where the heart of Generation X was placed.

Maybe we can use this as an analogy for Generation X. Not only did our generation have an all too brief moment in the sun (roughly late 1991 to 1994 or 1995) but our remnants were placed in an all too cute bag and placed in some disregarded corner. Everything that we stood for, all of the pride and righteous anger, discounted and turfed in favor of something cute and innocuous. People look back at Generation X and think primarily of flannel and the start of coffee culture. That’s if they remember the generation at all. For the most part we’ve been lost and no one even noticed that we are missing.

But we are all still here. We’re in our thirties and forties now. Graying around the edges maybe but we’re still out and about. We just are lacking a spokesperson. Someone who people recognize as being from our age and caring about our issues. But spokespeople have never been our style. We’re a quiet generation. We do our own thing. We take care of ourselves. We keep few friends but those we have we will go to the wall for no questions asked. It’s tough to organize that type of generation.

I hope we find Kurt. I hope we find ourselves. I certainly hope that we end up in something other than a pink teddy bear. I think we deserve a better ending.

The Second Half

Best of 120 Minutes: Let’s start off the week with something up tempo, shall we. Here is a classic from The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, a band that actually did not go down in history as being best known for their appearance in a Converse commercial. Personally, I like any band that has one guy whose job is to simply dance on stage. Doesn’t sing, doesn’t play an instrument, they don’t even hand him a tambourine. Just wear a suit and dance on stage. Awesome.

Well, I’ve reached the midpoint of my severance period and hopefully the midpoint of my unemployment. Can’t say for certain that that is the case but I would hope to be working again in the near future. I’m still confident that I will find something especially now that it will become my primary daily focus. But before I start talking about my job search plans I think I should spend some time discussing what I have learned over these past few months.

I’ve learned that without a daily work schedule the concept of days of the week begins to fall apart. I wished someone a happy Friday last week and realized that it really wasn’t any different than any other day of the week for me. I couldn’t even count the trivia game as unique as I do that three times a week. Every day becomes pretty much indistinguishable from the next outside of television schedules and thanks to a DVR even that is rather flexible. I think that adds to the fact that I somehow lost a week or two in May, apparently. I know where they went (and I certainly enjoyed them) but they still seemed to disappear from the calendar on me.

I’ve also learned that a job doesn’t mean nearly as much to my personal satisfaction as I thought it did. Everyone who knows me understands that I am a very achievement oriented person. I do want to be the best at what I do and I always assumed that I needed the structure of school or a job in order to feed that desire. Someplace where I could keep score and know what I have accomplished. But I think I have flourished since I’ve removed myself from that environment.

My stress levels are down greatly since I’ve just removed myself from that pressure of needing to succeed at every moment of the day. I’m nowhere near as obsessive compulsive as I have been in the past (and just wait until I am one day confident enough to share those stories). I’m happier than I have been in ages and even though things have gone pear shaped around me I have been able to keep my head about me and stay in the positive. My life isn’t perfect and I’m still the same flawed individual that I always have been but I’m much more settled into my own skin at the moment.

I don’t know where I will be nine weeks from now. Don’t know if I’ll have a job or who it will be with or even where it might possibly be. And I know that I will soon be back to the grind of getting up before seven, putting on the button down shirt and making my way to a cubicle five days a week. All I hope is that I don’t lose this feeling that I have inside me right now. I’m confident. I’m satisfied. I know who I am and I am pleased with that knowledge. It’s taken me so long to reach this point, longer than I ever expected, and I don’t want to give it up just yet.