Fuck it. I'm having a hell of a time getting my thoughts together for one blog, let alone a blog as often as I planned. So I'm gonna try something else. I'm gonna try truly rambling. The first thing to come to mind, I'll write down. No matter how absurd. As a matter of fact, the more absurd, the better. So let's go with that.
I can't seem to make up my mind very easily these days. I choose one option, and then wish I had chosen another. I'm fairly certain this is another indicator of my ever-loosening grip on whatever amount of sanity I have. Then again, it could just be the smell of my beard. I'm certain something microscopic and sentient is growing in it. It might finally be time to shave. Or perhaps I'll wait until it grows a countering group. That might be interesting. I've always wanted to see a battle waged over me. But I'll take having my beard-space being warred over instead.
I love how bat-shit insane some people are becoming over the whole health care bill. I'm even more amazed at how many haven't any idea what it actually says outside of what they've heard in the news. Doesn't anyone do their own research anymore? It's not armageddon, people! Obama's not the anti-christ and neither is Sarah Palin. Calm the fuck down and be reasonable. And while we're at it, let's drop the violence and name-calling, shall we? Yes, let's.
I can't seem to get the A/C to work properly. I'm sure this is the work of some sort of Satan or other. That or Mitt Romney. I'm sweating. That's all I'm saying.
Pants are overrated and they must be abolished! Damn the pants! Save the empire!.... wait, that's not right. Fuck.......
Sometimes, after I've finished peeing, I stand and stare out the window at the people living their lives out in the street by my house. I like to imagine they're committing the sins I've seen on "Desperate Housewives" the handful of times I've watched it.
Life is much more interesting when all the blood is rushing to your head because you're hanging upside down. Hey, I didn't say it was a good thing. I just said it was interesting.
I wish Spring would stop being such a damn schizo. It's cold. Spring should not be cold. It should be moderately warm. Stupid weather.
I've watched two episodes of the first season on "Dollhouse" and so far, I am far from impressed. But I'm told the first half of the season sucks anyway, and that I should stick it out til the end, 'cause it's supposed to get better. Allegedly.
I'm fairly certain my hair grows at an unnatural rate.
Does god have feet? If so, what size are the feet of such a deity? I imagine they're quite large. They'd have to be to haul those massive testicles he has, if the faithful are to be believed. After all, how else would you get to smite people and then expect them thank you for smiting them as a lesson in humility? That shit requires big balls, I assure you.
Today, my farts smell like ketchup. Or so a co-worker told me this morning. But he's old and I'm certain he's senile, so I should just be happy he hasn't crapped his pants in my presence in retaliation for my gas emission. I've been farting with some degree of frequency throughout the day, but he's the only one who noticed. Or, at least, the only one who made mention of it. Bastard.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Reading Outside the Comfort Zone
Recently, I decided to read outside of my comfort zone. Normally, I'm big into thrillers and horror. But it dawned on me that I also do enjoy the occasional romance novel by Nicholas Sparks. And I'm quite partial to the non-fiction works of Richard Dawkins. So why not go way out there and try something I've not really tried before: fantasy.
I've read the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and I love those books. Them were good readin'! Also, I'm a big huge stinkin' fan of A. Lee Martinez. Whenever I get wind of his newest release, I'm quick to pre-order. So I've read SOME fantasy. Not a whole lot, but some.
So now I'm trying out the likes of Terry Goodkind, Terry Brooks, Terry Pratchett, and Tad Williams. Okay, so I TRIED to read a Terry Goodkind novel already, and discovered I needed something a little bit lighter to read. After all, starting out with a nearly 900 page novel, all in extremely small type that hurts my eyes I might add, isn't really the best idea.
My next attempt was almost as quickly thwarted, as I picked up the first book in the Discworld series and nearly lost my shit when it dawned on me how much the story jumps around. I now think I have the hang of Pratchett's writing style and format, but it really wasn't easy. Thankfully, the book is around 200 pages, so if I should feel myself losing my shit again, I'll console myself with the fact that it'll all be over soon. Okay, that makes the book sound like shit, which it really is not. It's just different from anything I've read up to this point, so I'm having to adjust more than I thought I'd have to.
I encourage anyone who is reading this blog to go out into the big scary world and pick up a book they wouldn't normally consider reading, and read it!
I've read the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and I love those books. Them were good readin'! Also, I'm a big huge stinkin' fan of A. Lee Martinez. Whenever I get wind of his newest release, I'm quick to pre-order. So I've read SOME fantasy. Not a whole lot, but some.
So now I'm trying out the likes of Terry Goodkind, Terry Brooks, Terry Pratchett, and Tad Williams. Okay, so I TRIED to read a Terry Goodkind novel already, and discovered I needed something a little bit lighter to read. After all, starting out with a nearly 900 page novel, all in extremely small type that hurts my eyes I might add, isn't really the best idea.
My next attempt was almost as quickly thwarted, as I picked up the first book in the Discworld series and nearly lost my shit when it dawned on me how much the story jumps around. I now think I have the hang of Pratchett's writing style and format, but it really wasn't easy. Thankfully, the book is around 200 pages, so if I should feel myself losing my shit again, I'll console myself with the fact that it'll all be over soon. Okay, that makes the book sound like shit, which it really is not. It's just different from anything I've read up to this point, so I'm having to adjust more than I thought I'd have to.
I encourage anyone who is reading this blog to go out into the big scary world and pick up a book they wouldn't normally consider reading, and read it!
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Making Something From Nothing
I knew this would happen. I'd get all excited about writing a blog again, only to find that I have nothing to say. Well, that's not entirely true. I have some things to say. The words, they just like to hide from me. That's my excuse, and I'm sticking to it!
Literally thousands of scenes and ideas float through the Dr. Pepper ether that is my brain every day , but rarely do anything come of them. They're their own scenes, and to put them with other scenes seems like a bad idea. I've thought about sucking it up and putting a number of random scenes together to see if they can make a story come to life. That's as far as it gets, though.
I seem fairly adept at non-sequiturs. Trouble with those are they are only a sentence or two in length. Can't very well write a story that is only a sentence or two long. Nine sentences, yes. Maurice Sendak proved that. I love that man. He's written some good stories.
Where does this leave me, then? Well, it leaves me writing a blog about how I have nothing to say in my blog and then briefly writing about that very thing. I've almost deleted this blog a number of times in the 10 minutes it's taken me to write it. It's more or less meaningless. Then again, my intent in writing about not being able to write was to flex my brain muscles to find a good subject to write on by admitting to myself that I can't think of something to write about. Did your brain just die after that? Yeah, mine too.
My end goal here is to make my brain open so that the words flow. If that means writing a blog like this, then so be it. Hopefully it works. If it doesn't, well, at least I took some amount of effort to try to make an effort to make this blogging effort worth the effort. And that's a lot more effort than I've put into anything in a long time. I deserve a goddamn cookie!
Literally thousands of scenes and ideas float through the Dr. Pepper ether that is my brain every day , but rarely do anything come of them. They're their own scenes, and to put them with other scenes seems like a bad idea. I've thought about sucking it up and putting a number of random scenes together to see if they can make a story come to life. That's as far as it gets, though.
I seem fairly adept at non-sequiturs. Trouble with those are they are only a sentence or two in length. Can't very well write a story that is only a sentence or two long. Nine sentences, yes. Maurice Sendak proved that. I love that man. He's written some good stories.
Where does this leave me, then? Well, it leaves me writing a blog about how I have nothing to say in my blog and then briefly writing about that very thing. I've almost deleted this blog a number of times in the 10 minutes it's taken me to write it. It's more or less meaningless. Then again, my intent in writing about not being able to write was to flex my brain muscles to find a good subject to write on by admitting to myself that I can't think of something to write about. Did your brain just die after that? Yeah, mine too.
My end goal here is to make my brain open so that the words flow. If that means writing a blog like this, then so be it. Hopefully it works. If it doesn't, well, at least I took some amount of effort to try to make an effort to make this blogging effort worth the effort. And that's a lot more effort than I've put into anything in a long time. I deserve a goddamn cookie!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Kicking Myself in the Nuts, One Quarter at a Time
Looking for full-time work is seriously tough business. Most times, I think my time would be better spent kicking myself in the nuts on a street corner for quarters. I heard/read somewhere at some point that some seemingly downtrodden hobos are actually well-off middle-class people. I mean to say, they stand on street corners, begging for change, and in some cases, that change adds up to thousands of dollars. So maybe I could leave the self-nut kicking out and just beg on a street corner. I certainly have the look down.
Hmmmmmm..... could I?
Monday, March 22, 2010
My Golden Compass
I am not a believer of the Christian god. I used to be. I used to be for a pretty long time, more or less over a decade or so. In that time, I was happy that my happiness depended solely on my doing good things so I wouldn't burn in hell, and that was sufficient enough for me. Nowadays, I realize that my morality did not come so much from the bible, but from the way my parents raised me. Yes, my parents are Christian, but they rarely ever related any morality to the Christian way of thinking. For them, it was always "this is right" and "this is wrong". It was never "Jesus said this was wrong" or "Jesus said this was right".
That may be why, after I had come to terms with my doubts about religion once and for all in my early twenties, it was easy for me to accept that morality comes not from some sky-being, but from inherent values people are born with. I think the best morality lesson came from my public school education from the start of it, when my kindergarten teacher informed me of the "Golden Rule". If you don't know the Golden Rule by now, you should probably go ahead and kill yourself. Then again, you've probably been a practitioner of it for quite some time now, without even realizing it. So, okay, you can live since you are now aware that what you are doing is all part of the "Golden Rule" business. I've heard and read about people who claim you can't have morality without God. I think the Golden Rule sufficiently debunks this claim.
Now, I'm really not here to debate religion with anyone, even myself. I only talk about the Golden Rule because it's my whole take on morality, and my two cents are worth something. Specifically, two cents. I think that the world would be a better place if people would stop claiming a divine intervention in their actions and took responsibility for their own actions. It's what makes the most sense to me. Granted, I'm far from the most logical person on the planet, but I like to think that my reasoning ability is ever growing, and so at the very least, I'll have my moments of sound reasoning.
In the end, I try to be good to people in the hopes that they will be good to me in return. If they are not good to me, well, I live in the comfort that I was good to them, and sometimes that's more than enough for me.
That may be why, after I had come to terms with my doubts about religion once and for all in my early twenties, it was easy for me to accept that morality comes not from some sky-being, but from inherent values people are born with. I think the best morality lesson came from my public school education from the start of it, when my kindergarten teacher informed me of the "Golden Rule". If you don't know the Golden Rule by now, you should probably go ahead and kill yourself. Then again, you've probably been a practitioner of it for quite some time now, without even realizing it. So, okay, you can live since you are now aware that what you are doing is all part of the "Golden Rule" business. I've heard and read about people who claim you can't have morality without God. I think the Golden Rule sufficiently debunks this claim.
Now, I'm really not here to debate religion with anyone, even myself. I only talk about the Golden Rule because it's my whole take on morality, and my two cents are worth something. Specifically, two cents. I think that the world would be a better place if people would stop claiming a divine intervention in their actions and took responsibility for their own actions. It's what makes the most sense to me. Granted, I'm far from the most logical person on the planet, but I like to think that my reasoning ability is ever growing, and so at the very least, I'll have my moments of sound reasoning.
In the end, I try to be good to people in the hopes that they will be good to me in return. If they are not good to me, well, I live in the comfort that I was good to them, and sometimes that's more than enough for me.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Hobos and Me
How many people do you know who have a fascination with homeless people, or as I like to call them "hobos"? You know at least one, and I bet you didn't even know it! Yeah, okay, so the jig is up: hobos fascinate me. They've been a curiosity for me since my childhood when my dad and I (and sometimes the rest of the family as well) would feed the homeless breakfast at the church we attended at the time. I remember playing many different kinds of games with some of them. I remember card games and chess were big among them. They were all male, and they all, for the most part, were at least nice if not downright gregarious and kind. I realize that my church probably picked the ones who were the most lucid and least likely to go ape-shit and kill everyone with a spoon, but I never felt like I was in any danger (that I can remember) and I always liked going and doing that particular church-sponsored event. Thus began my fascination with hobos. It's yet another thing I "blame" my parents for.
Not too long ago, I was doing some temp work for a major medical center, and I took the train to and from it every day. The train station wasn't exactly all that close to where I was temping, but it was easily within walking distance, and so I walked. It seems that hospitals and medical centers have their fair share of hobos camped out on the sidewalks around them. When I first started walking that route, I had feared that I would constantly be begged for money. But that was far from the case. Interestingly enough, most of the hobos (there were about 4 or 5 along my walking route on any given day) didn't even acknowledge my existence. But there were one or two who, every so often, would say "Good morning" or "God bless" to me, with a smile on their face. Sometimes, they'd be the ones holding cups out to collect loose change from passersby, and sometimes they'd just be sitting on top of everything they own and watching traffic go by. In the days where I had temp work, I rarely had a waking moment where I wasn't working or going to and from work. So in those days, I actually envied the hobos. They had all the time in the world to observe the world, to take everything in. Of course, they were also probably starving like Ethiopians and hating every minute of their lives, wishing they could just take a shower or end it all. There were probably a fair number of them who were so mentally ill they thought Elvis was a giant Chinchilla and that Hillary Clinton was going to eat the babies they didn't have, and so the world at large was of little concern to them. When I was done envying their free time, I'd come to realize how lucky I was to have the one permanent job as well as temp work. Fuck, I'm going to stop now before I become one of those "be thankful for what you have" pricks, those people who think you can't envy someone for something. I can envy someone for something and I will envy someone for something whenever I want.
One of my favorite movies is about a hobo: "The Fisher King". If you haven't seen it, see it. If you have seen it, I hope you enjoyed it (though I know of one person who didn't think too much of it) as much as I had. I really have nothing more to say about this. I just thought I'd point out that I like a movie that's about a hobo.
Some friends and family and co-workers have taken to telling me that I look like a hobo these days. And I have to say that I agree with them. With my unkempt beard and wrinkled clothes, the only thing that separates me from an actual hobo is that I've got a roof over my head, and it isn't made from cardboard, either. I'd say it's from some sort of feeling of solidarity with hobos that I don't shave or perform the necessary upkeep of my beard, but that isn't why. I don't shave because I don't like to shave, and I don't keep it all nice and neat for the same reason. I wear wrinkly clothes because I don't like to iron, and I lay around but fidget a lot as well. When you're laying down and you keep moving, you're bound to get a fair amount of wrinkles. It doesn't bother me to look like a hobo. I look like one because I don't care not to look like one.
I don't think hobos are the scourge of society like some people. Yes, I realize they're not aesthetically pleasing in any sense of the word, but I've always believed that they are human like me. Fortunately, I can back up this believe with irrefutable proof. Don't believe hobos are human? Give 'em a shower and a shave and you'll see they've got the same human characteristics as you and me. Something else I believe is that if everyone in the US had health care coverage, then the homeless "problem" would significantly decrease. It should come as no surprise that many of the homeless are hobos because they are mentally ill did not receive the proper care because they couldn't afford the coverage. But that's a blog for another day (maybe even tomorrow's blog, what with health care being debated at this very moment as I write these words.)
Not too long ago, I was doing some temp work for a major medical center, and I took the train to and from it every day. The train station wasn't exactly all that close to where I was temping, but it was easily within walking distance, and so I walked. It seems that hospitals and medical centers have their fair share of hobos camped out on the sidewalks around them. When I first started walking that route, I had feared that I would constantly be begged for money. But that was far from the case. Interestingly enough, most of the hobos (there were about 4 or 5 along my walking route on any given day) didn't even acknowledge my existence. But there were one or two who, every so often, would say "Good morning" or "God bless" to me, with a smile on their face. Sometimes, they'd be the ones holding cups out to collect loose change from passersby, and sometimes they'd just be sitting on top of everything they own and watching traffic go by. In the days where I had temp work, I rarely had a waking moment where I wasn't working or going to and from work. So in those days, I actually envied the hobos. They had all the time in the world to observe the world, to take everything in. Of course, they were also probably starving like Ethiopians and hating every minute of their lives, wishing they could just take a shower or end it all. There were probably a fair number of them who were so mentally ill they thought Elvis was a giant Chinchilla and that Hillary Clinton was going to eat the babies they didn't have, and so the world at large was of little concern to them. When I was done envying their free time, I'd come to realize how lucky I was to have the one permanent job as well as temp work. Fuck, I'm going to stop now before I become one of those "be thankful for what you have" pricks, those people who think you can't envy someone for something. I can envy someone for something and I will envy someone for something whenever I want.
One of my favorite movies is about a hobo: "The Fisher King". If you haven't seen it, see it. If you have seen it, I hope you enjoyed it (though I know of one person who didn't think too much of it) as much as I had. I really have nothing more to say about this. I just thought I'd point out that I like a movie that's about a hobo.
Some friends and family and co-workers have taken to telling me that I look like a hobo these days. And I have to say that I agree with them. With my unkempt beard and wrinkled clothes, the only thing that separates me from an actual hobo is that I've got a roof over my head, and it isn't made from cardboard, either. I'd say it's from some sort of feeling of solidarity with hobos that I don't shave or perform the necessary upkeep of my beard, but that isn't why. I don't shave because I don't like to shave, and I don't keep it all nice and neat for the same reason. I wear wrinkly clothes because I don't like to iron, and I lay around but fidget a lot as well. When you're laying down and you keep moving, you're bound to get a fair amount of wrinkles. It doesn't bother me to look like a hobo. I look like one because I don't care not to look like one.
I don't think hobos are the scourge of society like some people. Yes, I realize they're not aesthetically pleasing in any sense of the word, but I've always believed that they are human like me. Fortunately, I can back up this believe with irrefutable proof. Don't believe hobos are human? Give 'em a shower and a shave and you'll see they've got the same human characteristics as you and me. Something else I believe is that if everyone in the US had health care coverage, then the homeless "problem" would significantly decrease. It should come as no surprise that many of the homeless are hobos because they are mentally ill did not receive the proper care because they couldn't afford the coverage. But that's a blog for another day (maybe even tomorrow's blog, what with health care being debated at this very moment as I write these words.)
And So It Begins.....Again
With the creation of this blog, I decided to create a semi-anonymous existence to speak my mind without resorting to cutting off anyone and everyone who wants to read my blog. So, if you know me in real life or in any of my handful of online dopplegangers, I ask that you help me keep my air of mystery (not to be confused with the air of my ass) and try not to refer to me by my real name. Just call me... "R.H.", "His Royal Rambliness", "El Ramblino", or something along those lines.
I'm starting this particular blog because I had let my other blogs become too transparent and specific. So with this blog, I'm gonna try to keep it as vague and muddled as possible, much like an actual hobo. So if I make less sense to those who know me, then I will have achieved my goal.
I'm here to have a good time with writing again. It's been a long time since I tried to blog regularly, and even longer since I attempted to write something worth anything. I'm gonna try to do those very things with this blog. As I am prone to changing my mind at the drop of a dead baby, I may not blog or write as frequently as I wish. Not that I have anything better to do. I'm just lazy, I suppose.
So, for those of you who know me, welcome back to the good times. For anyone new who may come along, welcome to awesomeness!
And remember the ground rules, my little IRL coat hangers:
-Please keep any references of who I am IRL to a minimum. Preferably, no references to my identity at all, but as I will inevitably refer to something going on in my life, I ask that you keep it as vague as you can. Consider it my writing challenge for you.
-This is the one blog where I will not hesitate to delete comments I think may be too specific or whatnot. I don't like to delete comments, but in the interest of keeping my "air of mystery", it must be done.
-If you have a difference of opinion with me or with anyone who leaves a comment, that is between you and to whomever you are responding. If you can't take the criticism, GTFO!
-Have fun. Say what you want, do what you want, but be sure to have fun.
Okay, I think that covers it. As I said/wrote before, I'm likely to change my mind at any given moment, so if the rules are not clear to you....well, there's nothing I can do for you. Just try and keep up if you can.
I'm starting this particular blog because I had let my other blogs become too transparent and specific. So with this blog, I'm gonna try to keep it as vague and muddled as possible, much like an actual hobo. So if I make less sense to those who know me, then I will have achieved my goal.
I'm here to have a good time with writing again. It's been a long time since I tried to blog regularly, and even longer since I attempted to write something worth anything. I'm gonna try to do those very things with this blog. As I am prone to changing my mind at the drop of a dead baby, I may not blog or write as frequently as I wish. Not that I have anything better to do. I'm just lazy, I suppose.
So, for those of you who know me, welcome back to the good times. For anyone new who may come along, welcome to awesomeness!
And remember the ground rules, my little IRL coat hangers:
-Please keep any references of who I am IRL to a minimum. Preferably, no references to my identity at all, but as I will inevitably refer to something going on in my life, I ask that you keep it as vague as you can. Consider it my writing challenge for you.
-This is the one blog where I will not hesitate to delete comments I think may be too specific or whatnot. I don't like to delete comments, but in the interest of keeping my "air of mystery", it must be done.
-If you have a difference of opinion with me or with anyone who leaves a comment, that is between you and to whomever you are responding. If you can't take the criticism, GTFO!
-Have fun. Say what you want, do what you want, but be sure to have fun.
Okay, I think that covers it. As I said/wrote before, I'm likely to change my mind at any given moment, so if the rules are not clear to you....well, there's nothing I can do for you. Just try and keep up if you can.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
