Okay, I flunked spelling.
Now, this would not be such a big deal, except that I love busting on my Brazilian pal Viv because she insists on spelling labor with a u. Queen's English and all of that. So, it becomes important when I do write something that she might see to actually have my spelling all proper (or at least proper American English) so she has as little ammo to blast me with as possible. Obviously, I'm failing.
Okay, I'm at work once again. On a Sunday, scheduled from 1500 to 1800 (3pm to 6pm for the 24 hour challenged) which makes no sense what so ever. We are getting nearly no calls, i.e., call volume is very low. There are plenty of people scheduled to 6pm who are working "full" days. So why bring in some one for just 3 hours? I have a hard time thinking this is cost effective. But I'm here, and I could use the money, (as little as it is) so I'll take the hours. And what the hell, it lets me type some more here, which has become a bit of a relief.
It is funny, but I have only been doing this "regularly" now for three days, and it already has become a bit of a stress reliever. I find I am actually looking forward to getting to just sit and type and see the words displayed. I have to wonder if it is the rythum of the keys, the sounds of the typing, the reward of having my efforts there to be displayed. The psychology of this simple activity seems to be more than the sum of the actions.
L~ is here, looking very nice in the row across from me. Wearing a white sweater and playing a web based Tetris clone. I haven't been able to find my glasses for the past three days so she is a bit of blur. Nearsightedness sucks. I want to get lasik (laser surgery) and be able to see with out the damn things, but it is expensive. And reportedly, you do sacrafice a little of your night vision. But it would be nice to not have to worry about glasses any more. Fortunately I get paid on Tuesday, so I'll go pick up a copy of my perscription from my doctor and go get new glasses, and then I'll be able to see again.
It is time for a couple of new pair of jeans as well. Both of my "daily wear" pairs have a hole on the right leg just above the knee. I've managed to lose a little weight too, so time to get down a size. Now if I can keep that up. If I was to lose four inches off my waist this year I would be a very happy boy. Just have to find a way to get to the gym, which is more a function of money than transportation or time.
Okay, I'm out of ideas to write about, so off to Pogo to do tumblebees or something like that.
Til next time...
29 December, 2002
28 December, 2002
Editing
Well, am at work again and I just took a look at yesterday's post. It was embarrasing to see so many typo's and spelling mistakes. I am not the world's greatest speller, but even I can catch "othere", well, at least I thought I could catch "othere" till I read yesterday's post and had it stick out like a grand jury indictment of my ability to form proper words and sentences. If, as I stated nearly a year ago, the main purpose of typing here is for me to work on my ability to write, then I need to be able to form sentences that are well formed and complete. And I need to spell correctly, so that the reader is not forced to decode my meaning from the jumble of letters which may or may not make proper words.
Still, as they say, practice makes perfect, and at least I have started practicing. I have been afraid to post here for so long because I have been stubbornly holding on to the idea that each and every post I write has to be some profound insightful essay on the state of the world and what should be done about it. Which is a nice thought, that a practice page some how should be inspiring and perceptive, but totally unrealistic and really, contradictory to what I set out to do. If I am going to practice to write here, than I have to accept that what I write may not always be the most orginal or profound or the best of what I may create. Was every work of Hemmingway a masterpiece? Was every story of F. Scott Fitzgerld a classic? I set my goals way to high and my expectations on the summit of the mountain, with out ever even considering the base. Foolish, and ultimately, destructive to the effort.
Anyway, my food has arrived, hopefully I'll get to take a break before it goes totally cold, and I can enjoy it. Only other thing I have to do is figure out how to add comment boxes to this thing.
Till next time (which is shortly coming)
Well, am at work again and I just took a look at yesterday's post. It was embarrasing to see so many typo's and spelling mistakes. I am not the world's greatest speller, but even I can catch "othere", well, at least I thought I could catch "othere" till I read yesterday's post and had it stick out like a grand jury indictment of my ability to form proper words and sentences. If, as I stated nearly a year ago, the main purpose of typing here is for me to work on my ability to write, then I need to be able to form sentences that are well formed and complete. And I need to spell correctly, so that the reader is not forced to decode my meaning from the jumble of letters which may or may not make proper words.
Still, as they say, practice makes perfect, and at least I have started practicing. I have been afraid to post here for so long because I have been stubbornly holding on to the idea that each and every post I write has to be some profound insightful essay on the state of the world and what should be done about it. Which is a nice thought, that a practice page some how should be inspiring and perceptive, but totally unrealistic and really, contradictory to what I set out to do. If I am going to practice to write here, than I have to accept that what I write may not always be the most orginal or profound or the best of what I may create. Was every work of Hemmingway a masterpiece? Was every story of F. Scott Fitzgerld a classic? I set my goals way to high and my expectations on the summit of the mountain, with out ever even considering the base. Foolish, and ultimately, destructive to the effort.
Anyway, my food has arrived, hopefully I'll get to take a break before it goes totally cold, and I can enjoy it. Only other thing I have to do is figure out how to add comment boxes to this thing.
Till next time (which is shortly coming)
27 December, 2002
Okay, another day, another dollar.
Though, I suppose if I considered all the intangibles of this place, travel, clothing, food, etc. I would be lucky to show a profit for the day. No wonder economics is called the dismal science.
So L~ has had her nose in a magazine all day, and the few times I have tried to speak to her, the tone in her voice has been that "I really don't want to talk to YOU today" type tone. L~ is this very bright, VERY attractive 21 year old soon to be paralegal with a dream of being a prosecutor someday. My first day at work here, she told me that I reminded her of Ned Flanders from the Simpsons. That pretty much doomed my chances of robbing the cradle right there. At least as a Simpson's watcher that pretty much puts her in with the rather dry Swiftonian social satire intellectual tradition, even if she doesn't realize it. L~ reminds me Halle Berry with longer hair. She has the same eyes and very soft full lips. Every time I come to work I try to sit in such a way that I can just see her face without getting caught staring, just because I enjoy the beauty of it. It seems just typing that sentence you can hear people going "Yeah right, just the beauty, suuurreeeee buddy". And I am not going to lie, if I could date L~ I would. But that doesn't mean you can't enjoy the pure beauty of a person or just humanity. The other day I was video chatting with a woman whom I talk to every now and then. She wasn't wearing much, (ah the comforts of home!) and I found my self just suddenly struck with the inherent beauty of the curve of her body from her chest to her hips. I really didn't focus on anything other than just that curve, the line drawn in space by her form, and it just struck me as a perfect form, that you could have taken that line and used it in a painting of a field or sky or building, and it would have been just pleasing to the eye. Sometimes beauty is like that, that it is nothing more than asthetics, just the enjoyment of a pleasing shape or sound.
But yeah, I wish I could ask L~ out. She is a fascinating woman. You can see that she is bored at this job, but I get the feeling she isn't really looking for a job that is a challenge, but something to put some cash in her pocket while she is at school. Still, there is a mind there, one that I think has a lot more that the two mutually hostile brain cells most of the drones at this place seem to get by with.
Okay, enough on that. Yes I'm bored again. I wonder how many creative expressions and moments have occured out of simple boredom. Answering the phone to check if "Friends Trivia in a Tin" is currently in stock just doesn't get the juices flowing you know? But at least I escape out of here before midnight this time, and can go work on my resume tonight a little so that hopefully soon I will escape to something a little more challenging. I would imagine there are many owners and operators of companies that would be totally up in arms that I'm using my time at work to type this stuff on the net. And frankly, I think they are right, it is in some respects, and ethical violation and breach of trust. But I would submit in my own defense that I did exhaust all avenues of doing productive work, every time I get a call I minmize this block and fully spend my time on the call. And have not hid what I am doing from my supervisor at all. So, don't expect me to feel guilty Mr. Boss. I'm not costing you any money.
Ah the women in my so called life. L~ who Flanderizes me. (I wonder if THAT is covered under Georgia law, "degrading and in-human acts?) S~ my lesbian bud, who I love so much, and who I haven't heard from in three months. 6er, off with her girl friend in Iowa, whom both protects me like mother and whom I worry about more than she knows. Viv, the sanest and smartest woman in Brazil, who just doesn't realize just how damn good she is. ~C~ who I just talk to on Yahoo, as she keeps a moving wall between me and any chance to be admitted to her real life. E* who pretty much is the same. And Amanda Hudson who guards her real life tighter than anything in Fort Knox. Amanda is a joy to talk to, some one who is sweet and very caring, but she doesn't trust anyone. Contradictory I know, but the cyber world is a weird world. Keeping your distance is part of the life on the net, which is both fair, and at the same time isn't. Oh well... cyber relationships.. who would have ever even considered such a thing 10 years ago? Who would have guessed?
Okay, ten minutes left, time to clean up and get ready to evade and escape out of here.
Till next time.
Though, I suppose if I considered all the intangibles of this place, travel, clothing, food, etc. I would be lucky to show a profit for the day. No wonder economics is called the dismal science.
So L~ has had her nose in a magazine all day, and the few times I have tried to speak to her, the tone in her voice has been that "I really don't want to talk to YOU today" type tone. L~ is this very bright, VERY attractive 21 year old soon to be paralegal with a dream of being a prosecutor someday. My first day at work here, she told me that I reminded her of Ned Flanders from the Simpsons. That pretty much doomed my chances of robbing the cradle right there. At least as a Simpson's watcher that pretty much puts her in with the rather dry Swiftonian social satire intellectual tradition, even if she doesn't realize it. L~ reminds me Halle Berry with longer hair. She has the same eyes and very soft full lips. Every time I come to work I try to sit in such a way that I can just see her face without getting caught staring, just because I enjoy the beauty of it. It seems just typing that sentence you can hear people going "Yeah right, just the beauty, suuurreeeee buddy". And I am not going to lie, if I could date L~ I would. But that doesn't mean you can't enjoy the pure beauty of a person or just humanity. The other day I was video chatting with a woman whom I talk to every now and then. She wasn't wearing much, (ah the comforts of home!) and I found my self just suddenly struck with the inherent beauty of the curve of her body from her chest to her hips. I really didn't focus on anything other than just that curve, the line drawn in space by her form, and it just struck me as a perfect form, that you could have taken that line and used it in a painting of a field or sky or building, and it would have been just pleasing to the eye. Sometimes beauty is like that, that it is nothing more than asthetics, just the enjoyment of a pleasing shape or sound.
But yeah, I wish I could ask L~ out. She is a fascinating woman. You can see that she is bored at this job, but I get the feeling she isn't really looking for a job that is a challenge, but something to put some cash in her pocket while she is at school. Still, there is a mind there, one that I think has a lot more that the two mutually hostile brain cells most of the drones at this place seem to get by with.
Okay, enough on that. Yes I'm bored again. I wonder how many creative expressions and moments have occured out of simple boredom. Answering the phone to check if "Friends Trivia in a Tin" is currently in stock just doesn't get the juices flowing you know? But at least I escape out of here before midnight this time, and can go work on my resume tonight a little so that hopefully soon I will escape to something a little more challenging. I would imagine there are many owners and operators of companies that would be totally up in arms that I'm using my time at work to type this stuff on the net. And frankly, I think they are right, it is in some respects, and ethical violation and breach of trust. But I would submit in my own defense that I did exhaust all avenues of doing productive work, every time I get a call I minmize this block and fully spend my time on the call. And have not hid what I am doing from my supervisor at all. So, don't expect me to feel guilty Mr. Boss. I'm not costing you any money.
Ah the women in my so called life. L~ who Flanderizes me. (I wonder if THAT is covered under Georgia law, "degrading and in-human acts?) S~ my lesbian bud, who I love so much, and who I haven't heard from in three months. 6er, off with her girl friend in Iowa, whom both protects me like mother and whom I worry about more than she knows. Viv, the sanest and smartest woman in Brazil, who just doesn't realize just how damn good she is. ~C~ who I just talk to on Yahoo, as she keeps a moving wall between me and any chance to be admitted to her real life. E* who pretty much is the same. And Amanda Hudson who guards her real life tighter than anything in Fort Knox. Amanda is a joy to talk to, some one who is sweet and very caring, but she doesn't trust anyone. Contradictory I know, but the cyber world is a weird world. Keeping your distance is part of the life on the net, which is both fair, and at the same time isn't. Oh well... cyber relationships.. who would have ever even considered such a thing 10 years ago? Who would have guessed?
Okay, ten minutes left, time to clean up and get ready to evade and escape out of here.
Till next time.
26 December, 2002
Why does anyone like the Holidays?
I'm sitting here at work, illegally sneaking on the net to blow off some steam in between calls. Right now I have to take calls for a major retail chain dealing with their first day of post-Christmas returns. Few of my fellow workers seem to have smiles, the people calling on the phones seem to be either in a frazzled hunt for a last minute toy or gift for an obvious weekend trip, or attempting to find away to return the toy/trinket/trifle they recieved yesterday and broke, busted or simply did not want for as much cash as they can possibly get. The most interesting item asked for so far, is the "pregnant Barbie doll" which I have to wonder if this is some sort of internet hoax. Or creation of a mad scientist. Pregnant Barbie? Obviously, with those breasts, milk production won't be a problem, but I have serious doubts about any kid making it through those hips. And would Barbie ever put up with a Cesarian scar? Never mind all the issues about Barbie and birth control. With Ken obviously gay, who is the father? GI Joe finally get back from leave and have a wild thing fling before getting shipped off to Afghanistan? As an independant woman of the 21st century, hasn't Barbie ever heard of birth control? Or for all of these years, was those come hither eyes and pouty succubus lips affixed to some born-again fundamentalist troglodyte? We all knew Barbie was no virgin, we didn't need the lingerie Barbie to tell us that. And really, did Mattel object that much to the S&M version? Was it really they were worried about the "damage" it would do to Barbie's rep? Or the fact that she was finally out of the closet? Now we know what she really does to Ken in the basement of that dream house. And we won't go into the fact all her friends seem to be younger females. Hmm, a tall blonde with a flock of young impressionable women hanging around her... Mustang Ranch Barbie will probably be next years collectable.
Okay, 1710 (that's 5:10pm for you non-European or militarily challenged types) and being able to be absurd in an absurd world (and blanket a friend of mine with SMS messages as well) has managed to make checking to see if Grand Theft Auto: Vice City was in stock somehow bareable. Now if I can just last 4 hours and twenty more minutes.
Till next time...
I'm sitting here at work, illegally sneaking on the net to blow off some steam in between calls. Right now I have to take calls for a major retail chain dealing with their first day of post-Christmas returns. Few of my fellow workers seem to have smiles, the people calling on the phones seem to be either in a frazzled hunt for a last minute toy or gift for an obvious weekend trip, or attempting to find away to return the toy/trinket/trifle they recieved yesterday and broke, busted or simply did not want for as much cash as they can possibly get. The most interesting item asked for so far, is the "pregnant Barbie doll" which I have to wonder if this is some sort of internet hoax. Or creation of a mad scientist. Pregnant Barbie? Obviously, with those breasts, milk production won't be a problem, but I have serious doubts about any kid making it through those hips. And would Barbie ever put up with a Cesarian scar? Never mind all the issues about Barbie and birth control. With Ken obviously gay, who is the father? GI Joe finally get back from leave and have a wild thing fling before getting shipped off to Afghanistan? As an independant woman of the 21st century, hasn't Barbie ever heard of birth control? Or for all of these years, was those come hither eyes and pouty succubus lips affixed to some born-again fundamentalist troglodyte? We all knew Barbie was no virgin, we didn't need the lingerie Barbie to tell us that. And really, did Mattel object that much to the S&M version? Was it really they were worried about the "damage" it would do to Barbie's rep? Or the fact that she was finally out of the closet? Now we know what she really does to Ken in the basement of that dream house. And we won't go into the fact all her friends seem to be younger females. Hmm, a tall blonde with a flock of young impressionable women hanging around her... Mustang Ranch Barbie will probably be next years collectable.
Okay, 1710 (that's 5:10pm for you non-European or militarily challenged types) and being able to be absurd in an absurd world (and blanket a friend of mine with SMS messages as well) has managed to make checking to see if Grand Theft Auto: Vice City was in stock somehow bareable. Now if I can just last 4 hours and twenty more minutes.
Till next time...
06 April, 2002
Obviously, it has been a great deal of time since I have written here. This deserves some explanation.
There is something inherently self-absorbed about typing an online journal. In doing so, you can't quite escape the idea that it lumps you in with thousands of teenage girls all writing their "truly deepest thoughts" so that others may be impressed with how profound and deep they are. Even though they carefully edit each and every word to conform to what is politically correct with the crowd they hang around with in high school. So to make this worthwhile not just for myself but for the reader, I really needed to stop and think about what I wanted to accomplish with this little niche of cyber-space.
My principal goal remains to use this place to work on my writing. For it to be a means by which I can increase my skill and confidence in being able to craft a well written story or essay. I struggle greatly with my writing, and I continue to look at it as not good enough. Therefore, in the skewed logic of emotional turpidity, I avoid writing. But in doing so, I am not doing myself justice. I have been told several times, both by people that I know and teachers, professors and even people that I worked for and produced products for, that I write well. Yet this has not been enough for me to escape my own feeling that my writing is never "good enough". I want my prose to naturally be, withour revision or rewrite, as good as what I saw in Hemmingway's "The Old Man and the Sea". Which, frankly is silly and impossible. I do not know how much Hemmingway re-wrote and re-crafted his stories, but I firmly believe what Jay Atkinson taught in his classes. That writing is craft, paragraphs are there to be honed and shaped by writing and re-writing and revision and time. I thing that the first draft of a manuscript, while it may be inspired, can be polished to become something even more beautiful.
My problem is this, I am an inspiration writer. I write from my train of thought. My words speak to this page from a mental voice, saying out loud to my fingers what I wish to appear. In many ways, my written speach parallels very closely the way in which I speak. This is both an advantage and a handicap. It is an advantage, as for many people, having a book "speak" to them as if some one was there telling them a story, hearing the author's inflection and tone, is what makes a published word enjoyable. This is why novels are on the New York Times Bestseller list and not textbooks. Few and far between are the textbooks bought for the enjoyment of reading them, while most novels are bought simply for that purpose. The last act of genius that will ever be accomplished in the world is by the person who writes a math text book where people read it as if it was the latest in the Harry Potter series. It is a problem as it makes it that much harder to revise. Once you say something, how often do you sit and re-say it? With the goal of perhaps editing it and re-saying, only to do this once again till you have what you wanted to say in the most colorful yet terse sentance. People do not naturally wish to edit their words. That is why, the phrase "what I meant to say" conveys so much embarrasement with out the slightest indication in the words of any shame or chagrin.
So I am conflicted. Which is a problem and also a gift. Conflict by its nature, provides energy and inspiration. It provides a means by which what is strongest is discovered. Many would argue that which is strongest is not always best, nor does it account for luck, Goliath still is the fearsome giant, and David, the pipsqueak whom fortune (or God) smiled upon. But conflict, is the best I have, and by which, is what I will have to make due with.
So, why do a Blog at all? Here I am, condeming this to be a superficial adolescent exercise in sheer futility as I am hopessly perfectionistic and conflicted about what I what from this. Would seem to be an exercise in self-destructive behavior, no?
I am writing here, because there is part of me that does have something to say. I have many ideas that float through my head. Maybe they are all bad ideas, worthless and just so much drivel, or maybe in them there is a element of truth. I don't know. I like to think that perhaps there is some truth to them. That the thoughts and ideas that I want to express will give some one pause to think, to consider and reflect. That maybe some one who reads something here someday will have a choice phrase or sentance pop into their head, and it means something more to them than just a few words on a screen. I would like to think that my writing someday makes a difference to some one. That some one, some place, finds it to be something to keep.
Jay Atkinson faulted me for my attempted at an ending on the sole essay I managed to submit, and I am afraid I am going to fail here as well. I don't know really how to close this little note. I think probably because I have so much more I want to say. But for now, real life requires that I stop, and deal with its demands.
Til next time.
There is something inherently self-absorbed about typing an online journal. In doing so, you can't quite escape the idea that it lumps you in with thousands of teenage girls all writing their "truly deepest thoughts" so that others may be impressed with how profound and deep they are. Even though they carefully edit each and every word to conform to what is politically correct with the crowd they hang around with in high school. So to make this worthwhile not just for myself but for the reader, I really needed to stop and think about what I wanted to accomplish with this little niche of cyber-space.
My principal goal remains to use this place to work on my writing. For it to be a means by which I can increase my skill and confidence in being able to craft a well written story or essay. I struggle greatly with my writing, and I continue to look at it as not good enough. Therefore, in the skewed logic of emotional turpidity, I avoid writing. But in doing so, I am not doing myself justice. I have been told several times, both by people that I know and teachers, professors and even people that I worked for and produced products for, that I write well. Yet this has not been enough for me to escape my own feeling that my writing is never "good enough". I want my prose to naturally be, withour revision or rewrite, as good as what I saw in Hemmingway's "The Old Man and the Sea". Which, frankly is silly and impossible. I do not know how much Hemmingway re-wrote and re-crafted his stories, but I firmly believe what Jay Atkinson taught in his classes. That writing is craft, paragraphs are there to be honed and shaped by writing and re-writing and revision and time. I thing that the first draft of a manuscript, while it may be inspired, can be polished to become something even more beautiful.
My problem is this, I am an inspiration writer. I write from my train of thought. My words speak to this page from a mental voice, saying out loud to my fingers what I wish to appear. In many ways, my written speach parallels very closely the way in which I speak. This is both an advantage and a handicap. It is an advantage, as for many people, having a book "speak" to them as if some one was there telling them a story, hearing the author's inflection and tone, is what makes a published word enjoyable. This is why novels are on the New York Times Bestseller list and not textbooks. Few and far between are the textbooks bought for the enjoyment of reading them, while most novels are bought simply for that purpose. The last act of genius that will ever be accomplished in the world is by the person who writes a math text book where people read it as if it was the latest in the Harry Potter series. It is a problem as it makes it that much harder to revise. Once you say something, how often do you sit and re-say it? With the goal of perhaps editing it and re-saying, only to do this once again till you have what you wanted to say in the most colorful yet terse sentance. People do not naturally wish to edit their words. That is why, the phrase "what I meant to say" conveys so much embarrasement with out the slightest indication in the words of any shame or chagrin.
So I am conflicted. Which is a problem and also a gift. Conflict by its nature, provides energy and inspiration. It provides a means by which what is strongest is discovered. Many would argue that which is strongest is not always best, nor does it account for luck, Goliath still is the fearsome giant, and David, the pipsqueak whom fortune (or God) smiled upon. But conflict, is the best I have, and by which, is what I will have to make due with.
So, why do a Blog at all? Here I am, condeming this to be a superficial adolescent exercise in sheer futility as I am hopessly perfectionistic and conflicted about what I what from this. Would seem to be an exercise in self-destructive behavior, no?
I am writing here, because there is part of me that does have something to say. I have many ideas that float through my head. Maybe they are all bad ideas, worthless and just so much drivel, or maybe in them there is a element of truth. I don't know. I like to think that perhaps there is some truth to them. That the thoughts and ideas that I want to express will give some one pause to think, to consider and reflect. That maybe some one who reads something here someday will have a choice phrase or sentance pop into their head, and it means something more to them than just a few words on a screen. I would like to think that my writing someday makes a difference to some one. That some one, some place, finds it to be something to keep.
Jay Atkinson faulted me for my attempted at an ending on the sole essay I managed to submit, and I am afraid I am going to fail here as well. I don't know really how to close this little note. I think probably because I have so much more I want to say. But for now, real life requires that I stop, and deal with its demands.
Til next time.
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