My fellow bloggers have entertained their readerships lately with a variety of contests, and what am I if not a lemming, mindlessly following the pack?
So here I go: offering a contest for my own dear readers. In the grand tradition of those before me, the only prize to be offered shall be the pride and personal satisfaction that you'll enjoy from having won. (By the way, I'm giving song lyrics and you've got to guess the artist and song. Most correct answers wins.)
There's no connective theme or particular genre to these songs, only that they periodically roll about inside my head (and I sometimes listen to actual, audible recordings of them as well). That these are the songs that spring to mind for me probably says something about my psyche (skeptical? drawn to escapism?), but there will be no extra points awarded for accurate psycho-analyses.
Of course you could Google all these lyrics and get every answer correct, but what fun would that be? Besides, cheaters never win (except sometimes in pro sports, politics, business and academia, if you don't get caught).
By the way, I'll wait a few days to post the correct answers, since my readers are probably not accustomed to reading my blog every single day. So all you lurky-loos (I do have lurky-loos, don't I?) please leave a comment with your guesses, even if you only kind of know a couple of them.
On with it, then:
1. "I wish I was like you, easily amused"
2. "Playing Solitaire till dawn with a deck of 51, smoking cigarettes and watching Captain Kangaroo, so don't tell me I've nothing to do"
3. "I need a photo opportunity. I want a shot at redemption. Don't want to end up a cartoon in a cartoon graveyard"
4. "It's been rough and rocky travelin' but I'm finally standing upright on the ground. And after takin' several readings, I'm surprised to find my mind still fairly sound."
5. "You, I thought I knew you. You, I cannot judge."
6. "We can live beside the ocean, leave the fire behind, swim out past the breakers, watch the world die."
7. "And the reaching of the steeple felt like one more expensive ad for something cheap. This was not the way it looked on the billboard, smiling family beaming down on the interstate." (sorry, this is totally self-indulgent. only one of you will know it.)
8. "So shave your face with some mace in the dark. Savin' all your food stamps and burnin' down the trailer park."
9. "Dear Sir or Madam, will you read my book? It took me years to write. Will you take a look?"
10. "I don't cry when my dog runs away. I don't get angry at the bills I have to pay. I don't get angry when my mom smokes pot."
Good luck everybody!
Friday, March 28, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
I did not go to the bank today
I did not go to the bank today
As yesterday and days before,
Nor did I call
The oral surgeon's office
To schedule a consultation.
The unused ticket for an airport shuttle
Likewise remains deskside
Awaiting its own return trip to Orlando,
Accompanied by a terse note demanding refund,
Due to
shoddy
and slow
service.
The endless procrastination.
(Height of procrastination,
That I meant to embody it in poetic form
Two days before.
And now finally
I write these words
On the day
When I actually did go to the bank.)
But I shall.
I shall do these things and more, much more,
To cross off my mindless to-do list
Like vacuuming my car to rid it of piss-scented dog odor
Or getting a haircut
Or cleaning
My
Desk.
Stacked notebooks and papers
Await the urge to topple onto me,
Delayed only by
Their own
Procrastination.
As yesterday and days before,
Nor did I call
The oral surgeon's office
To schedule a consultation.
The unused ticket for an airport shuttle
Likewise remains deskside
Awaiting its own return trip to Orlando,
Accompanied by a terse note demanding refund,
Due to
shoddy
and slow
service.
The endless procrastination.
(Height of procrastination,
That I meant to embody it in poetic form
Two days before.
And now finally
I write these words
On the day
When I actually did go to the bank.)
But I shall.
I shall do these things and more, much more,
To cross off my mindless to-do list
Like vacuuming my car to rid it of piss-scented dog odor
Or getting a haircut
Or cleaning
My
Desk.
Stacked notebooks and papers
Await the urge to topple onto me,
Delayed only by
Their own
Procrastination.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Memory lane
First let me apologize that I constantly insist on using cliched phrases for the titles of my blog posts -- and often ones that having nothing to do at all with the subject of the post.
It's been suggested that I participate in some sort of meme. I do not know what a meme is, and therefore I decline.
Oh, I'm just kidding. While I really don't know what a meme is (I assume it's one of those made-up words like "blog" or "INSERT JOKE WORD HERE"), I gather that I'm being asked to write a post following the formula of those who participated before me.
So imitate, I shall. Well, sort of. The originators of this idea offered a list of five of their own previous blog posts on various topics -- family, friends, about me, about something I love, wild card -- to provide readers a refresher course in the blogger's personal thoughts and/or a sampling of favorite posts.
The blogger who tagged me for this, Meaghan, altered the list a bit to suit her own sinister purposes, and I, being sinisterer still, shall further alter the categories.
Seriously, I can't seem to find any previous posts in which I focus on family or friends, and so I'm just making up all new categories. If you don't like it, call the meme police on me.
Here are some of the various services I see this blog providing to its readers:
1. Guiding your spiritual journeys: In December, this blog broke the news to you early about the discovery of the literal road to salvation. (It was Interstate 35 heading north out of Texas, in case you missed it.) And for those of you who made legally binding commitments to travel with me on my upcoming march up the I-35 corridor, I haven't forgotten, and the trip is still on. I'm just working out a few logistical details and growing out my hair and beard.
2. Listing things: While they don't represent a regular feature on this blog, I do occasionally like to treat my readers to a nice list of things -- whether they be writing tips, favorites posts of mine (what you're reading now) or just, you know, things. Some people pay good money for a list, so you should be grateful to me for providing these free of charge (although, as always, donations are accepted).
3. Encouraging creativity: Knowing how much my readers all like to flex their creative muscles (is that a cliche yet?), I will from time to time spark a brainstorming session, such as this post, in which I praised the efforts of clever, alliterative spammers who sent me a friendly e-mail about "two tawdry tarts." You all responded with your suggestions for clever subject lines on unsolicited e-mail porn, and that's when this blog came to be blocked by a number of Internet filters, thanks very much.
4. Writing business plans: Because I have been so crushed by the weight of my own career success, I figure I should offer (again, free of charge) any further money-making ideas I have to my loyal readers, as I did in this post. Seriously, you could basically print out this post and take it into any venture capital firm's office, and they'd be like, "That's incredible. Why haven't we thought of this?" and give you a $10 million check for startup costs. Try it if you don't believe me.
5. Warning you of little-known diseases and disorders: The Web is filled with medical information and advice these days -- some valid, some questionable -- yet most sites focus on the big-name diseases such as cancer and heart disease. I've realized since the beginning of this blog that my readers also need to know about the less-talked-about health dangers lurking about us, such as premenstrual schizophrenia. Knowing is half the battle, folks.
And... scene.
It's been suggested that I participate in some sort of meme. I do not know what a meme is, and therefore I decline.
Oh, I'm just kidding. While I really don't know what a meme is (I assume it's one of those made-up words like "blog" or "INSERT JOKE WORD HERE"), I gather that I'm being asked to write a post following the formula of those who participated before me.
So imitate, I shall. Well, sort of. The originators of this idea offered a list of five of their own previous blog posts on various topics -- family, friends, about me, about something I love, wild card -- to provide readers a refresher course in the blogger's personal thoughts and/or a sampling of favorite posts.
The blogger who tagged me for this, Meaghan, altered the list a bit to suit her own sinister purposes, and I, being sinisterer still, shall further alter the categories.
Seriously, I can't seem to find any previous posts in which I focus on family or friends, and so I'm just making up all new categories. If you don't like it, call the meme police on me.
Here are some of the various services I see this blog providing to its readers:
1. Guiding your spiritual journeys: In December, this blog broke the news to you early about the discovery of the literal road to salvation. (It was Interstate 35 heading north out of Texas, in case you missed it.) And for those of you who made legally binding commitments to travel with me on my upcoming march up the I-35 corridor, I haven't forgotten, and the trip is still on. I'm just working out a few logistical details and growing out my hair and beard.
2. Listing things: While they don't represent a regular feature on this blog, I do occasionally like to treat my readers to a nice list of things -- whether they be writing tips, favorites posts of mine (what you're reading now) or just, you know, things. Some people pay good money for a list, so you should be grateful to me for providing these free of charge (although, as always, donations are accepted).
3. Encouraging creativity: Knowing how much my readers all like to flex their creative muscles (is that a cliche yet?), I will from time to time spark a brainstorming session, such as this post, in which I praised the efforts of clever, alliterative spammers who sent me a friendly e-mail about "two tawdry tarts." You all responded with your suggestions for clever subject lines on unsolicited e-mail porn, and that's when this blog came to be blocked by a number of Internet filters, thanks very much.
4. Writing business plans: Because I have been so crushed by the weight of my own career success, I figure I should offer (again, free of charge) any further money-making ideas I have to my loyal readers, as I did in this post. Seriously, you could basically print out this post and take it into any venture capital firm's office, and they'd be like, "That's incredible. Why haven't we thought of this?" and give you a $10 million check for startup costs. Try it if you don't believe me.
5. Warning you of little-known diseases and disorders: The Web is filled with medical information and advice these days -- some valid, some questionable -- yet most sites focus on the big-name diseases such as cancer and heart disease. I've realized since the beginning of this blog that my readers also need to know about the less-talked-about health dangers lurking about us, such as premenstrual schizophrenia. Knowing is half the battle, folks.
And... scene.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Cold calls
For those of you who have never taken a job that involved making lots of cold calls, let me offer this piece of advice: Don't.
As a journalist, I quite enjoy the writing aspect of my job. And despite fancying myself to be an aspiring creative writer, I also enjoy the fact that I don't have to make up any of the information or subject matter for my writings in this line of work. I simple write a summary of what people tell me in interviews.
Furthermore (that's a very writerish word, so I thought I'd use it), I enjoy the process of interviewing executives about their businesses, learning their goals and what value they see their company adding to the world -- which is not to say I don't sometimes doubt said value.
But what I do not enjoy about my job is calling these people out of the clear bloody blue to try to convince them to tell me these things over the telephone, because I've never met these people and most of the time they've never even heard of me, nor the publication for which I write. And so here I am, leaving voicemails for people, trying to sound like the kind of swell fellow they might enjoy speaking with on the phone. I do this in the hope that these people I've never met will call back and share some of the most confidential information and thoughts I could possibly ask for about their business -- with me, the guy they've never heard of who writes for a publication they've also never heard of.
I guess I shouldn't be surprised that so many people never call back. The real miracle here is that anybody does call back.
There's a reason I didn't go into sales. Actually a number of reasons. For one, I am naturally filled with self-doubt. For example, I write infrequently on my blog and am slow to speak up in group conversations because I question whether I have anything unique enough or interesting enough to contribute. In the case of cold calls, this means it's difficult to persuade people to share sensitive information with me (or call me back, for that matter) when I really can't see any good reason for them to do so.
Also, I didn't go into sales because I HATE COLD CALLS. Both making and receiving them, apparently. When telemarketers call me, I try to be polite and wait for a small break in their monologue before saying 'I'm not interested' and hanging up. But if they catch me in the wrong mood, I'll probably just hang up mid-sentence.
At least I don't think any one has hung up on me mid-sentence so far. But quite a number of executives have forwarded my voicemail message along to the company's PR rep, which is almost as bad.
Well, it's a good job all in all, aside from this frustration -- plus my nagging guilt over using my skills to serve an investment community I suspect to already be quite high on wealth and low on scruples, but that's another post.
So I won't complain too much. I just figured I might warn my readers away from jobs such as telemarketing, which I know would otherwise represent a highly appealing career opportunity.
As a journalist, I quite enjoy the writing aspect of my job. And despite fancying myself to be an aspiring creative writer, I also enjoy the fact that I don't have to make up any of the information or subject matter for my writings in this line of work. I simple write a summary of what people tell me in interviews.
Furthermore (that's a very writerish word, so I thought I'd use it), I enjoy the process of interviewing executives about their businesses, learning their goals and what value they see their company adding to the world -- which is not to say I don't sometimes doubt said value.
But what I do not enjoy about my job is calling these people out of the clear bloody blue to try to convince them to tell me these things over the telephone, because I've never met these people and most of the time they've never even heard of me, nor the publication for which I write. And so here I am, leaving voicemails for people, trying to sound like the kind of swell fellow they might enjoy speaking with on the phone. I do this in the hope that these people I've never met will call back and share some of the most confidential information and thoughts I could possibly ask for about their business -- with me, the guy they've never heard of who writes for a publication they've also never heard of.
I guess I shouldn't be surprised that so many people never call back. The real miracle here is that anybody does call back.
There's a reason I didn't go into sales. Actually a number of reasons. For one, I am naturally filled with self-doubt. For example, I write infrequently on my blog and am slow to speak up in group conversations because I question whether I have anything unique enough or interesting enough to contribute. In the case of cold calls, this means it's difficult to persuade people to share sensitive information with me (or call me back, for that matter) when I really can't see any good reason for them to do so.
Also, I didn't go into sales because I HATE COLD CALLS. Both making and receiving them, apparently. When telemarketers call me, I try to be polite and wait for a small break in their monologue before saying 'I'm not interested' and hanging up. But if they catch me in the wrong mood, I'll probably just hang up mid-sentence.
At least I don't think any one has hung up on me mid-sentence so far. But quite a number of executives have forwarded my voicemail message along to the company's PR rep, which is almost as bad.
Well, it's a good job all in all, aside from this frustration -- plus my nagging guilt over using my skills to serve an investment community I suspect to already be quite high on wealth and low on scruples, but that's another post.
So I won't complain too much. I just figured I might warn my readers away from jobs such as telemarketing, which I know would otherwise represent a highly appealing career opportunity.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Apparently, that was his real hand
Whatever happened to Texas Hold 'Em?
Remember when it was wildly popular and sports networks were constantly airing reruns of old poker world championship tournaments (cause poker is a sport, you know)?
People were always playing little friendly games on their kitchen tables, which week by week progressed into larger, less-friendly games until some guy got shot and the police found out the wife was running a high-dollar brothel upstairs to accompany the husband's poker den. The whole thing was a bit incestuous, too, because the hookers were just the wives of the poker players, and the poker players were the only johns (or punters, in the case of those two British guys). It was more like an expensive swingers party, with a card table.
That's how it went down at my house, anyway, I mean, at my friend's house. No, I mean, I heard about a house like that, but I didn't know those people.
Actually I think the game is still poking along just fine, except that I don't have cable TV and don't play in the neighborhood games anymore. So it's pretty much out of my life.
Even the little handheld electronic game I used to play on the crapper is dead. Probably just the battery, but it's one of those special batteries you can't buy just anywhere.
Same thing for church-league and industrial-league softball. I used to know a lot of adults who played in softball leagues in the town where I grew up, but now I don't know any. Maybe I'm just not hanging out with the right people. Or maybe this town has an anti-softball bias -- danged yuppie-fied tennis town is what this is.
I'd like to play some poker again -- but less expensive than the games I know of, and without my wife whoring herself out to the other players upstairs. Also, softball would be fun. Or basketball. It's easier to get a group of people together for basketball, because you don't need as many players. But then you've got to get access to a basketball court somewhere.
And how about cow-tipping? People around here don't tip cows like they did back home. Meaghan and I used to tip a cow every afternoon on the way home from school, just to listen to it moo. I suppose this is more of chicken-farmer town, but what fun can you have with chickens?
p.s. you're correct that this post isn't about anything. very observant. i suspect i may be starved for entertainment, which is entirely my own fault. but i'm just warning you folks, you may have to organize an intervention soon. otherwise, you're going to be reading a lot more nonsensical tripe like this and last week's post from now on.
p.s.s. the title isn't about anything either.
Remember when it was wildly popular and sports networks were constantly airing reruns of old poker world championship tournaments (cause poker is a sport, you know)?
People were always playing little friendly games on their kitchen tables, which week by week progressed into larger, less-friendly games until some guy got shot and the police found out the wife was running a high-dollar brothel upstairs to accompany the husband's poker den. The whole thing was a bit incestuous, too, because the hookers were just the wives of the poker players, and the poker players were the only johns (or punters, in the case of those two British guys). It was more like an expensive swingers party, with a card table.
That's how it went down at my house, anyway, I mean, at my friend's house. No, I mean, I heard about a house like that, but I didn't know those people.
Actually I think the game is still poking along just fine, except that I don't have cable TV and don't play in the neighborhood games anymore. So it's pretty much out of my life.
Even the little handheld electronic game I used to play on the crapper is dead. Probably just the battery, but it's one of those special batteries you can't buy just anywhere.
Same thing for church-league and industrial-league softball. I used to know a lot of adults who played in softball leagues in the town where I grew up, but now I don't know any. Maybe I'm just not hanging out with the right people. Or maybe this town has an anti-softball bias -- danged yuppie-fied tennis town is what this is.
I'd like to play some poker again -- but less expensive than the games I know of, and without my wife whoring herself out to the other players upstairs. Also, softball would be fun. Or basketball. It's easier to get a group of people together for basketball, because you don't need as many players. But then you've got to get access to a basketball court somewhere.
And how about cow-tipping? People around here don't tip cows like they did back home. Meaghan and I used to tip a cow every afternoon on the way home from school, just to listen to it moo. I suppose this is more of chicken-farmer town, but what fun can you have with chickens?
p.s. you're correct that this post isn't about anything. very observant. i suspect i may be starved for entertainment, which is entirely my own fault. but i'm just warning you folks, you may have to organize an intervention soon. otherwise, you're going to be reading a lot more nonsensical tripe like this and last week's post from now on.
p.s.s. the title isn't about anything either.
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