bjciii: My twisted thoughts

The title of this BLOG is a joke and a reference to Miss Congeniality where the “scholarship recipients” are all sitting together for the first time and Sandra Bullock’s character is asking how Hawaiians shut up overly-talkative people on the phone since “aloha” means both hello and goodbye. I thought it was mildly funny, but obviously it stuck with me because… well, here it is!

I’m lucky enough to remember this topic from last night because, most of the time, I manage to come up with a really great idea, think about it for an hour or so, and then file it away to be forgotten in the annals of my mind. Well, last night I was talking to a friend who called to say that he was going to call me back because he was in a rush to do something real quick. I said, “Sure. I’m just at the store, so call whenever. I’m here ’til 8 and it’s pretty slow.”

So he calls back about 5 minutes later and says, “Hey buddy, what are you doing?” by way of greeting. He immediately answers his own question by saying “I guess you’re still at the store and it’s slow, so…” I laughed because between his two calls, I managed to think about the ways we greet and say goodbye. It’s not as unique as a fingerprint, but I truly believe that people don’t realize just how we tend to pick a greeting / goodbye and stick with it. As long as I can remember, mine was “What’s up?”

True Story: I was working at [Place of Employment redacted] back in early 1998, dealing with a variety of clientèle, when a black woman (most likely in her early 40s) came up to where I was sitting. I smiled, said “What’s up?” She stopped, and she proceeded to berate me for speaking to her in that tone because she was educated, damnit, and it was completely wrong of me to assume otherwise. After my jaw muscles started working again, I apologized and said “hello, then”, and treated her with the cold, businesslike demeanor she requested for the rest of my tenure at that job. After a while, she tried to cozy up to me and be “nice,” but first impressions are a bitch, folks.

Anyway, my friend’s greeting of “What are you doing?” was out of place in the second call because he obviously knew what I was doing (hence his answer). He’s not nearly the only person to do this. Since the “what’s up” incident, I’ve mixed in a few more into my repertoire, and the one that gets me into the most trouble is “How are you / How you doin’ / How are you doing?” Coming from a good Irish-Catholic family, we are usually always going to either weddings or funerals. My greeting regarding personal welfare is fine and dandy in the reception line at weddings, but as soon as I realize I’ve just asked a friend “How you doin’?” while we’re standing 6 feet from his deceased relative, I want to crawl under the casket. It’s habit!

Think about it… those of us who find “hello” or “hi” to be too mundane have added our own spin to the greeting. How many times do we deviate from that modified greeting? How many times have we found it to be awkward afterwards? My goodbye is “Have fun!” I don’t think I need to tell you how many times that has gotten me weird looks (I’ve been trying to revert to “See ya” lately, but it’s tough going).

It’s amazing that we have such a large body of words in The English language, but we tend to always choose the wrong ones. Maybe I’ll just kill the creativity altogether and go back to the “hello” and “goodbye” just to eliminate any misunderstanding…

…who am I kidding? I’m the guy who ends his classes with “Get outta here and don’t get arrested; if you do, don’t call me for bail.”

No, this isn’t a BLOG about Music Television (R.I.P. – did you hear that they actually dropped “Music Television” from the iconic MTV logo? Granted, it’s about damned time, but still… a big part of me has died), but if you were a kid growing up in the early part of the 1980s, it’s near impossible not to remember the stars of the day growling into the camera “I want my M-T-V!” I bring up that classic line because, on my Facebook page, I had a status update which read:

Bill wants to know: When you think of “80s Movie”, what is the first title to come to mind, and why?

First, I think that it’s very important to maintain correct grammar and point-of-view; all of my statuses are in the 3rd person, people! When they start your status with your name, there’s really only one choice!

Next, I think a lot of my friends might have overlooked the question and gone right for their FAVORITE 80s movie; either way, it doesn’t matter – I got the answers I needed. The run down?

Big surprise (sarcasm): The clear winner was probably the most iconic 80s movie for anyone (and I mean anyone) who spent any time in high-school in the 1980s. Starring a new group of Hollywood royalty, “The Brat Pack” (Molly Ringwald, Anthony Michael Hall, Emilio Estevez, Judd Nelson, and Ally Sheedy) owned the mid-1980s, ruddered by the amazing and incredible insight of Mr. John Hughes. Adrian, Heather S, Rachel, Duncan, and Susan all immediately touted the movie as one of the first movies to pop into their head with the term 80s Movie. Why, though? I, for one, don’t really think of The Breakfast Club as an “80s Movie” in a lot of respects because Hughes was such an amazing talent that he crystallized the angst of teens from every walk of life into the fear of growing old (not oldER, just old… period) and losing that which made them kids in the first place. Seriously… you could take that movie and drop it admist the backdrop of the 1990s, the 2000s, and probably the 20-teens… and it would still be just as socially relevant as it was in 1985. What makes it “80s”? Easy… the clothes and the random snippets of frenetic music.

The next highest vote-getter was, well, a 4-way tie: Weird Science, Better off Dead, St. Elmo’s Fire, and Pretty in Pink. Each getting 2 votes (Rachel & Dave, Emily & Beth, Kristin GC & Sara, and Kristin Y & Stephanie – in that order), these movies screamed “80s Sensibility” to my readers! In full-disclosure, I never watched Pretty in Pink because, well, I was a boy. I know, I know… I should have seen it by now, but I have never actually sat down to do it. On the other hand, I never watched St. Elmo’s Fire because I felt that was geared towards people MUCH older than me… like old people in their 20s. I think I should go back and catch that… Weird Science is a classic 80s movie because this was a movie so steeped in 80s culture that it would take a lot of major rewriting to put it in any other decade. The excess… the catch-phrases… the “lisa-pieces”! This movie screams “80s” to me for those reasons. Better off Dead? Great movie. Absolutely an 80s film, and it gave us the oft-screamed catch-phrase: “I WANT MY TWO DOLLARS!!!” Random plotlines, incredibly insane characters, spontaneous song? All checked off. I think the 2 that I saw (WS and BoD) were definitely 80s movies, but not movies that can “stand the test of time” like The Breakfast Club can in terms of cinematic legacy.

The rest of you chose random movies which are:

Top Gun (Heather KJ) is absolutely, 100% an 80s film (which wouldn’t exactly need a ton of rewrites on to update, however). If it were to give off a scent, it would be Eau de Regan! This was the first movie I saw with a true home-theatre system. It was Christmas Eve at Bobby DiFebo’s house, and I was mesmerized by the bass and the surround-sound speakers. It truly felt like I was on the deck of the carrier. On another note, I saw this movie for the first time on VHS in Christiana Hospital when I was recovering from my last heart-surgery. My mom had to scramble to hold a blanket over the screen as Tom Cruise and Kelly McGillis were going at it, but the joke was on her: Tom Cruise is definitely gay. Then again, so is Kelly McGillis. Wow. How many of you didn’t think of that before now? I sure as hell didn’t…

16 Candles (Heather S) is another movie that I never watched all the way through, but I know about 80% of the plot… and I know… The Donger. But I can’t really speak on it because I don’t know the whole story. Sorry. I’ve failed you.

Youngblood (Lorraine) was a movie that, by all accounts, I have no reason to have never seen… but I haven’t. It’s about college hockey, for fuck’s sake! Never watched it. To Netflix!

Repo Man (Jerry) is a flick that my friend Eric made me watch about 2 years ago (on VHS, no less). With a punk soundtrack and helplessly 80s reference as well as the weirdest “plot” ever, I really didn’t dig the movie. It wasn’t the worst movie I’ve ever seen (not by a long shot), but I didn’t appreciate it for what it was.

The Princess Bride (Jennifer)… I’m actually surprised I didn’t get more votes for this, but I’m happy I didn’t. To me, this screams “great movie”, but definitely not “80s movie”. Why? Duh… it’s a period piece! Granted, the wrap-around story (with Fred “Kevin Arnold” Savage) is set in the 80s, but the bulk of the movie is definitely fantasy and romance. I loved the movie… truthfully, I don’t know anyone who didn’t!

Ferris Beuller’s Day Off (Brian) is a shocker: Only 1 vote? The ultimate slacker and schmoozer on a day through Chicago with his too-hot-for-him girlfriend, a spineless best-friend, and a borrowed Ferrari?! What the hell, people??? For me, the best, most poignant 80s scene in this movie was the entire group of black dancers in the “Danke Schoen” / “Twist and Shout” scene doing a spot-on imitation of The “Thriller” dance!! I’m a little disappointed in all of you for not mentioning this one more…

Rad (Jamie) was a God-awful movie, but for any boy who rode a dirtbike (like me), it was basically Citizen Kane. Good call, Jamie! There was horrible hair, laughable “villains”, the spontaneous “bike dance” (which, good God, you have to watch. It’s like a 300 on the unintentional comedy scale), and, oh yes, Price: The TITLE! No one, and I mean no one, says “Rad” or “Radical” anymore unless they’re talking denotatively.

National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (Mandy) was mentioned, but I’m thinking that sort of exists outside of the pantheon of 80s movies… now, National Lampoon’s Vacation? Absolutely. The Christmas movie, though? Not so much. Fantastically funny movie that I used to watch each and every year at least once, but it’s been a while since I’ve sat down and watched the entire thing. To me, this screams family dysfunction more than 80s, though.

Say Anything (Kristin GC) was a great movie that I didn’t see for the first time until about 3 years ago. Cameron Crowe perfectly captured the tortured, lovesick idiot in all of us. He wasn’t the coolest kid, nor was he the dorkiest, but John Cusak was able to pull everyone out on the front lawn, holding boom-boxes over our heads. I defy anyone to listen to Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” without thinking of this movie. Side-note… Gabriel wasn’t sold on even allowing his song to be used in the movie. It was a passionate phone call by Crowe (several, actually) that convinced him.

The Goonies (Allison) is so much a classic that it will remain in the cultural zeitgeist for eternity. It grabs the insecurity in all of us and couples it with our deepest fantasies of adventure. Seriously… what kid DOESN’T want to sail in a pirate ship? Looking at the cast, it was a veritable who’s who of awesomeness back then. Unfortunately, very few of them actually continued their success later. This is a movie that’s forever on TBS and I will watch it each and every time it’s on.

Sara mentioned The Lost Boys (but she wasn’t sure if it was an 80s movie or not — forgive her… she’s young). If you want a movie so hopelessly 1980s, you absolutely must watch The Lost Boys. The vampire scenes with Keifer Sutherland and Jason Patric are spectacular, but ANY scene with Corey Haim screams pastels, hair gel, and latent homosexuality. For my money, I’ll take David and his crew over any of the pseudo-vamps in Twilight (which I refuse to read OR see) any day of the week.

Cel… I’ve talked about it before, but Blade Runner didn’t leave me excited. For a guy like me who enjoys some sci-fi and drama, I really was bored to tears. I also don’t consider it an 80s movie… it’s a timeless movie that’s set in a futuristic dystopia – there’s no pastels to be found!

Finally, a true 80s movie, recommended by Victoria: Footloose. Insane outfits. Kevin Bacon. Random dancing scenes. Kevin Bacon. Forbidden love with the town whore. Kevin Bacon. Yes, folks… Footloose was unfortunately relegated to an “80s” movie, but it really was a great movie with a great cast. Hell, even Jennifer forgot that Sarah Jessica Parker was in it!

So… what makes an 80s movie to me? It has to be so steeped in the decade that the movie absolutely cannot be just “remade” in another era. It has to feature the bad hairstyles, the bad outfits, the so-bad-it’s-awesome music… An 80s movie has to scream “We’re all doing cocaine, making a ton of money, and we don’t care about anyone that’s not!” Yeah… an 80s movie is the ultimate awesome on a rainy Saturday. It’s the perfect backdrop for a party when people walk past and say “Holy shit… I remember owning a Swatch watch!” The 80s movie will live in infamy only because we’re far enough away from it to truly appreciate its ridiculousness and awesomocity.

Radical, dude.

Quick quiz:

Have you ever…

• Facebook’d?
• MySpace’d?
• Tweeted?
• BLOGged?

If you answered yes to any of these questions, congrats… you’re part of the problem. Hell, don’t think I’m insulting you; I’ve done all four!  We live in an age where we are becoming more intensely self-centered and entitled and it’s because we are led to believe, through status updates, BLOGs, and “tweets”, that people give a shit about us on a national or even global level!

When my parents were growing up, people wrote about themselves all the time: They were called “diaries” and they were usually locked and hidden in their rooms somewhere, you know… where their other siblings couldn’t find them. These diaries were the repository of hopes, dreams, and fantasies, but they were private. MAYBE, every so often, in a horribly depressed mood, would these diary-keepers show someone what they wrote, but that majority of the time it was a chronicle of pain in a personal forum. These writings didn’t elevate their sense of self-worth; on the contrary, when writing about the horrible days and the unrequited feelings, it most likely diminished their ego! My point is, while people have been writing about themselves forever, it’s only become recently that we have started thinking people live to read our Facebook updates!

Before I continue, a short pause: I understand the hilarious irony of this as I am currently telling you all of this… in my BLOG.

Anyway…

With the dawn of “social networking”, we started connecting with friends all over the world. We were able to tell them about all the things we were doing at any given moment, they commented, and we felt that people cared about the stupidest shit:

John Doe is… wondering why his snot is so darned green today!

And people will comment ENDLESSLY on that! How are we NOT supposed to get an inflated sense of self when the things we share are dissected by all the people we’ve allowed into this window to view the minutia of the day?

We’re the same people who hated going to the gym because we were normal, average Americans who had packed on some extra pounds and didn’t want the muscled-up meat-heads grunting in the middle of the room to look at us and laugh, becoming the in-gym equivalent of kicking sand in our face. The women have it no better… they look at the tight-assed, skinny-waisted women in spandex pumping away on the elliptical and spinning bikes and think there is judgment and disdain dripping from every exhale. We think this because we are the center of our universe… why shouldn’t we be the center of everyone else’s as well?

I’d love to say that I’m different… but I’m not. I’m trying to be better, but there’s a long way to go. When I first started writing a BLOG, I was telling everyone everything about me. I was funny. I was maudlin. I was angry. I was confusing. The point was, I expected that my readers (see? even that sounds narcissistic!) cared enough about my life that they wanted to know everything about it. I really want to say that this realization caused me to shift my focus a bit, but it wasn’t that at all. I became all-too-aware of who was reading my BLOG, and I knew that I couldn’t exactly vent about certain things anymore. Truthfully, I owe Robert Downey, Jr. a big “thank you” for that one. Now, I do my best to talk about more social / philosophical topics and maybe layer in a few things which seem to make no sense.

My Facebook updates? Yes… I still have personal stuff on them (last night I waxed poetic about eating Chinese food), but, for the most part, they’re movie quotes, lyrics, or random bits of nonsense. I’ve almost abandoned Twitter… unless I’m drinking at a bar, then all bets are off. I tried my best to distance myself from BLOGging, but I’m back because, shock-of-shocks, I do have readers who actually enjoy what I write. More than that, I love writing. I, at least, think I have some sort of talent for it.

What I’m saying is that I’m not changing… sure, I log in to MySpace once every full moon, but I’m on Facebook all the time and I’m back to BLOGging daily. I’m trying to remember that this is not a Billocentric universe, so forgive me if I trip sometimes. More than anything, thank you. To everyone who enjoys reading my journies into the insanity that is daily life, I appreciate you. I appreciate your words of encouragement AND discouragement (although I haven’t gotten a flame in a while). I know you don’t hang on my every word, but thanks for giving me some of your precious time to entertain, educate, or distract you.

So let’s say you’re dead. Your body expels its last waste and your skin loses the elasticity it enjoyed while you were functioning; it begins to shrink around you, giving the appearance that your hair and nails continued to grow after you were worm-food. Physiologically, your body decays and starts to putrefy. Eventually, tiny critters make their way in and start the “all-you-can-eat” buffet.

Hungry yet?

From the dawn of man, people have questioned what happens after that final instant of life. Do we drift out of our bodies and float above our corpse, hoping to fly into the women’s lockerroom? Do we immediately wake up in heaven or hell? Are we doomed to haunt that spooky old house on the hill for all eternity… or until a short, plump woman performs some sort of ritual to send us on our way?

Seriously… what happens?

Christian doctrine tells us that we will be welcomed into our father’s eternal kingdom. When our physical body dies, our soul will manifest in heaven according to these people. Other religions believe in reincarnation (or, if you’re born again in West Virginia, reinTARnation… sorry. Had to do it) where your soul is sent back to earth over and over again until you reach the end of your spiritual journey (it has to do with Karma and completing ideals and such… truthfully, I’m not too sure about it).

Let’s strip the creed out of the equation. Physically, when we die, that’s it. Mind stops. Heart stops. Period. End of the line. We are nothing. From the most lowly, homeless man to the richest, most powerful woman… we are all just rotting meat-suits at that moment. I want you to imagine the nothingness that happens after death.

Stop. You’ve already screwed it up.

Really… we are incapable of imagining nothing. Nothing is just that… the absence of everything. You probably, like me, pictured a vast darkness with no sound. Well, we have just added some substance and semblance of a reality to nothing, thereby nullifying the essence of “nothing.” I vividly remember becoming interested in space as a kid, but then having some pre-pubescent freak-out when I pictured myself in that immense blackness, not knowing up from down, not seeing a ground or a ceiling. Seriously… I remember almost being in a state of sheer panic on my parents’ old blue-floral couch at our house in Colonial Heights. To me, that was nothing! Even now, probably 25+ years later, when I think of “nothing,” I basically imagine an airtight, sound-proofed sensory deprivation chamber of boredom. I add the details and that destroys the definition of nothing.

A pickle, no? How does one explain nothing when the merest word destroys the innate nothingness?

What happens after we die? I don’t know. I mean, I’ve been dead (clinically) and I really don’t remember any lights or relatives or anything, but that was a long time ago and there’s a good possibility that I forgot. I think I choose to believe that heaven exists so I will be comforted when that day comes. I choose that because, if there truly IS nothing after our lights go out, who’s going to know anyway? Why should we ignore the possibility of everlasting life in the hereafter if it’s comforting to us now?

Just another peek into the ponderings of my head… hope you managed to come out unscathed!

I dated a girl a few years ago who, well… maybe “obsessed” is not the right word, but she was definitely enamored with the show Jon and Kate Plus Eight. As I was on the computer doing God-knows-what, she was on the couch watching On Demand episodes of the show (which, for the sake of my sanity, I shall just refer to as 8 for the rest of the post). I will say that I have a working knowledge of the show, but I couldn’t tell you any of the names of the kids. I know they lived in Pennsylvania and had a big, white van. I know the guy was of Asian descent and the wife was a shrew. I knew their names were Jon & Kate Gosselin. That was pretty much it.

I figured this show, like all the other “cute” shows I heard countless women go on about, would just stay at the periphery of my pop-culture knowledge, but then something horrible happened: Jon cheated on his wife. Now, before you look at this last sentence and wonder who just said that, let me say that it was horrible NOT because he was a cheating douchebag, but because that meant this family that was content to live in their reality bubble was about to become much, much bigger and omnipresent. No matter what I looked at (Entertainment Weekly, any number of television news shows, Saturday Night Live or Mad TV, late-night shows, newspapers, regular TV shows) or listened to (even my precious satellite radio succumbed to the wave of coverage), I was buffeted by stories of Jon’s wandering penis, Kate’s new hairdo, Jon’s new girlfriend, Kate’s new hairdo AND her stint on The View, Jon’s new ex-girlfriend, Kate’s new hairdo, her stint on The View, AND her sleeping with the bodyguard… ugh. You get the point.

Now, we’re hearing less about Jon, but Kate Gosselin is still holding on with her fake nails. She’s sunk herself into ABC’s ratings juggernaut, Dancing With The Stars. This means we’re guaranteed to hear about her for the run of the show, regardless of when she gets voted off. She’s up against 10 other people, and I know only 5 of them, the most famous, in my humble opinion, is Buzz Aldrin; this man will most likely be looked at as “Um… who’s that?” since most of our country is made up of drooling idiots, but MISTER Aldrin is far too good for this reality shit. Any man who shot himself into orbit in the infancy of the United States space program deserves so much better in his senior years than to share the stage with “Plastic” Pam Anderson, Chad “I’m still not calling you ‘Ochocinco’, you arrogant cock-munch” Johnson, and Shannen “The Bitch” Doherty. Olympic gold-medalist Evan Lysacek is also there, but I don’t think there’s anything bad I can say about him right now.

Back to Kate, however…

For a couple that started doing the show to help pay the bills for their 8 kids, they sort of lost sight of the kids, didn’t they? Maybe Kate’s doing DWTS for the money to pay the therapy bills for those 8 kids? Maybe Jon’s hanging out with Girls Gone Wild for money in order to send the kids to the orthodontist? Nope… they’re both media-whores who catapulted themselves into the public consciousness on the backs of their children. Yeah… and people still watch. I feel like I need to take another shower now; I feel so dirty.

Okay… While I tried to plunge through with a few updates in February, the snow, my cold, and a general apathy crept into my bedroom at night and held me down; sorry. Seriously, the massive amounts of snow we got really did a number on my desire to do anything! Add in the fact that I grew a cold (yes, grew… this thing will not go away, so it’s like the stupid weeds in my back yard), and my days at home were spent in an Olympics-fueled haze on the couch or in my bed.

There’s good news, however! I’m back and I feel a lot more motivated this month. Hopefully I can go 31-for-31 in March… Maybe I’ll take April off, but who knows.

So what happened in February? Snow. A lot of fucking snow. We had 2 major snowfalls of 18″ or more within a week of each other. It got so bad that the city was sending out dump trucks and front-end loaders to get the mounds of snow off the streets before the next snow hit because we literally had nowhere else to put it!

The Winter Olympics was held and I think the vast majority of my friends were sucked in by it; I know I was. I think another reason why I couldn’t BLOG was that I was so damned tired! I was practically glued to the television every night between 7 and (almost) midnight watching the events. Things I noticed: moguls are AWESOME; Lindsay Vonn falls a lot; I’m not into ice-skating at all; snowboarding didn’t get me pumped, but I think that was because they all reminded me of a production of “Stoners on Ice”; USA Hockey (both men’s and women’s) is incredible; even though I can’t do it without killing myself, skiing is pretty cool; and, luge / skeleton / bobsled athletes are insane.

I started reading again like I promised. Over the last 3 weeks, I managed 2 books and started a 3rd. They were all by Christopher Moore, and the first was called Fool – a retelling of Shakespeare’s King Lear from the king’s fool’s perspective. Honestly, it was an amazingly funny book. I loved all the tongue-in-cheek poking at the original play and the anachronisms riddled throughout. Add in the fact that they kept referring to The French as either “The Fucking French” or “The Poofters”, and I was sold. His next book that I read was A Dirty Job and, while I enjoyed it, I didn’t enjoy it nearly as much as Fool. I thought the story was great, but it sort of fell apart for me towards the end. And the big reveal at the end was almost telegraphed from the beginning. Like I said, good, but the ending sort of killed it for me (and, if you’ve ever read that book, I mean that last sentence with no pun intended). Right now I’m just starting Bloodsucking Fiends, so I’ll let you know what I think of that when I’m done.

I remember growing up in Colonial Heights with my little sister and my parents. I remember knowing almost everyone in that neighborhood and I remember being able to tell my mom and dad who I ran into on the way to the neighborhood market (yes… we had one. It was called “Angelo’s”, but we all called it “Tony’s”. Maybe I’ll write a BLOG about it in the future…). Now, I live in the city of Wilmington, a mere mile or so from the house I was born in, and I haven’t really met all of my neighbors yet. I’ve been here for a decade, people… 10 years.

You wanna know when the neighbors get together and chat?

Snowstorms and accidents.

See, we live on a main street in the city; we see our fair share of police lights and firefighters streaking down the road. Any time the lights linger (read that: stop in front of someone’s house), we all sort of congregate and speculate. All we need is an elderly black woman hanging out of a window, and it would be 227!! So, now that we’re in Blizzard ‘10 (Part 2 of 3), I’ve met a lot of my neighbors because we’re all commiserating about the snow, the parking, the plows, and the snow. I’ve come to the conclusion that most of my neighbors? Actually really cool. They’re really friendly people, actually! Even the guy down the street who rants and raves and screams when he’s drank too much is a nice guy when he’s sober!

It could definitely be worse.

Let this little winter setback make you learn about the people who live around you; take advantage of the captive audiences and introduce yourself around. Maybe those parking spaces that you complain about losing won’t be lost anymore! Maybe when you need a stick of butter, instead of speeding to an overpriced convenience store, you can walk next door. A lot of doors open up when the hearts open up.

Shut up… I know it was sappy, but I was on a roll.

Honestly, though… before the big snow storms this year, I talked at some of my neighbors and knew 1 pretty well. Now? I can say hi to everyone. It’s kinda nice.

Yes, I understand that I don’t have it ANY worse than anyone else, but this is my little corner of the cyberworld, so I’m not forcing you to read it if you would rather not.

S’alright? S’alright.

I know I’m lucky enough to have a house and all the responsibilities that come with it. I know I’m lucky enough to live on a “snow route” in Wilmington where the city has to make sure it is plowed because it’s an evacuation / major through-way, BUT why in God’s name must the plows continuously plow to the RIGHT?

Okay… logically, I know that, when operating a plow on a two-way street (which my street is not), the snow must be shunted to the outside of the street and not the middle, hence the angle of the plow. I get it… I do. Only, my neighbors and I just dug out of the last plowed snow only about 36 hours ago; our backs and spirits were just healing!!

There’s no real chance anything will change, so this is a bitch-session. I get it… I do. One side of my street has cars with the normal amount of snow to dig out; my side has twice that… AND it’s compacted by the plows. I just kinda wish the city could maybe, just maybe, angle those plows in the other direction once in a while. This shoveling shit is getting kind of old…

Enough! Thank you for allowing me a little venting action. I now return you to your reguarly-scheduled broadcast.

I went to bed last night feeling that horrible feeling that I swallowed a ball of sandpaper… scratchy-side out. I took some Tylenol PM, had a big glass of water, but I woke up almost every hour.

Shit. I’m getting sick.

Most likely it’s a common, garden-variety cold, but if it’s not, remember me fondly.

No, seriously… it’s just a normal “sick” thing. I am glad I have some cold meds in the house AND that my sink should be operational tonight so I can start making tea and such. And, really… there’s nothing better than tea when you’re sick.

In case you’re wondering about the title? Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis (my best guess as to the pronunciation? New-mo-null-tra-mike-row-skop-ik-silly-co-vol-kay-know-co-knee-o-sis) is the longest word in the English dictionary and it’s a pulmonary issue brought upon by inhaling volcano particles. Since Delaware doesn’t quite have an active volcano, I am pretty sure I can cross that off the list…

I have a lot to say. You know it. I know it… my students sure as hell know it. Unfortunately, working on the idea of consistent updates without overlap AND trying to maintain some sort of level of quality, well… I got burned out. The funny part is that I got burned out last Friday (which was just hellacious all around) AND it happened to snow from Friday night into Saturday night, so I was snowed in with not much else going on.

You’d think that would be a perfect recipe for unmitigated BLOGging supremacy, but it wasn’t. I was stifled and bored and all that.

So here I am, back on the horse after taking 4 days off. I’ve already surpassed my entire 2009’s entry numbers, so, any way you cut it, I’m ahead of the game. I think the idea of forcing something when there is nothing there is where blocks come from. I know that I’ve been developing a lot of ideas for stories and such, so that actually has me excited, but I am more of an organic writer than a directed one; I can’t say “I’m going to write for 2 hours every day” because, if I don’t have anything to say, well… I don’t have anything to say.

I did figure out a killer opening line for my next story though… I’m rather jazzed about it.

Keep an eye out… gonna try to get back on a regular schedule of updates now.