It seems all of my best friends (excluding Vicky) have birthdays in October.
Tim Murphy.
You know how you keep meaning to call? Well, I kept meaning to send you a card or something. But I’m a retard, so…
Murphy’s been going through a bit of shit lately and, to top it off, he’s older than me. Just think how much it must suck to be older than me! (Luv ya!)
Sean Deyo.
We had a little poker game at the house on Saturday night and I made sure we put a little extra effort into it since it was Sean’s birthday and he didn’t have anyone to celebrate with. But since Sean’s wife died, he’s decided he can be as rude as he pleases so… well, he was kind of a twerp. He even insulted Paula, who made a cake for us!
Now, next time I see him, I gotta tell him, “Dude. You’re being kind of a dick.”
Good Times.
Tim Clostio.
Clostio has decided to take himself out of my life, at least for a while. He chose his friend Booze over his friend Ken. I’m disappointed and I’m hurt.
Me.
Yep. Today’s the day. I’m out of work and I’m a year older. 41. (That’s like 287 in dog years.) In addition, Vicky snuck up behind me last night and surprised me, little knowing (hell, no one could have told her) that a little startle would spasm my back so bad that I would collapse on the living room floor, unable to get up.
(I just got up a few minutes ago and am loving my birthday so far.)
Happy Birthday, kids!
Monday, October 16, 2006
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Wait… Watch who?…
I’m a little gayer this morning.
No, not happier. Gayer.
I can feel the testosterone leeched from my system. I need a lap dance – stat! (um... from a woman...)
Yes, I went to my first Weight Watcher’s meeting this morning. Yes. Weight Watchers.
So, here’s the thing, I told Vicky a couple of months ago that if she needed my support in losing weight, if she needed me to be there for her, I would! Heck, I’d even join Weight Watchers with her!
… I didn’t expect her to take me up on it.
Well, she did. This morning, we traveled on down to the WW office and… it was like Jonestown (but with single-point snacks instead of Kool-Aide) or buying a Saturn (basically the same thing) (and they clap there, too)! The meeting consisted of about 30 large people in a rather small room with one very skinny woman in front of us all… telling everyone what a good job they were doing!
… Um…. Fat people… Thin lady… I don’t think “good job” is 100% accurate…
There were only three other guys there. And I realized that what we really needed was WW FOR MEN. I mean, these women clapped after every sentence! “I drank more water this week!” Clap clap clap! “I had more fruit!” Clap clap clap! If this was a guy’s meeting, I’m sure it would be observed, “Yeah, but you’re still a fatass, huh?!”
All those chubby women (my lovely bride excluded) and all that clapping and all that excitement and all that working together for a goal… if it was any gayer, we would have been sucking cock. I grabbed Vicky’s boob on the way out, just to remind myself I was still straight.
Anyway, it has begun and, well, we’ll see. I’m just doing this to support my wife… and for the fabulous food! (shit!)
No, not happier. Gayer.
I can feel the testosterone leeched from my system. I need a lap dance – stat! (um... from a woman...)
Yes, I went to my first Weight Watcher’s meeting this morning. Yes. Weight Watchers.
So, here’s the thing, I told Vicky a couple of months ago that if she needed my support in losing weight, if she needed me to be there for her, I would! Heck, I’d even join Weight Watchers with her!
… I didn’t expect her to take me up on it.
Well, she did. This morning, we traveled on down to the WW office and… it was like Jonestown (but with single-point snacks instead of Kool-Aide) or buying a Saturn (basically the same thing) (and they clap there, too)! The meeting consisted of about 30 large people in a rather small room with one very skinny woman in front of us all… telling everyone what a good job they were doing!
… Um…. Fat people… Thin lady… I don’t think “good job” is 100% accurate…
There were only three other guys there. And I realized that what we really needed was WW FOR MEN. I mean, these women clapped after every sentence! “I drank more water this week!” Clap clap clap! “I had more fruit!” Clap clap clap! If this was a guy’s meeting, I’m sure it would be observed, “Yeah, but you’re still a fatass, huh?!”
All those chubby women (my lovely bride excluded) and all that clapping and all that excitement and all that working together for a goal… if it was any gayer, we would have been sucking cock. I grabbed Vicky’s boob on the way out, just to remind myself I was still straight.
Anyway, it has begun and, well, we’ll see. I’m just doing this to support my wife… and for the fabulous food! (shit!)
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Baby – Baby Not…
So, I’m guessing that the minute you heard – or read – I lost my job you realized that we wouldn’t be working quite so hard to have a baby. Didn’t you? And by “wouldn’t be working quite so hard”, I mean not at all. I mean, we have become baby-phobes. Any sign of babyness – we don’t even buy those small corns… corn… corns… whatever.
I’ve been out of work now for two months. Eight weeks. A whole lot of days. I’ve driving myself nuts and taking Vicky on the ride as well.
And what once was this joyous thing, the pursuit of insemination, has now turned into something we’d rather not talk about… write about is a different story. The whole thing is really starting to piss me off, to tell the truth.
Anyway, in case you were wondering, we still want one. I can imagine us not leaving the bedroom for a full 48 hours after I get a job offer.
Wouldn’t mind that job offer…. oh…. any time now…
I’ve been out of work now for two months. Eight weeks. A whole lot of days. I’ve driving myself nuts and taking Vicky on the ride as well.
And what once was this joyous thing, the pursuit of insemination, has now turned into something we’d rather not talk about… write about is a different story. The whole thing is really starting to piss me off, to tell the truth.
Anyway, in case you were wondering, we still want one. I can imagine us not leaving the bedroom for a full 48 hours after I get a job offer.
Wouldn’t mind that job offer…. oh…. any time now…
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Ebony and Irony…
(What can I say? It makes a good title.)
“So, here’s the thing. Let’s not let that happen to us, okay?” I said and leaned in and kissed my bride.
I’ve been watching our Mad About You DVDs lately. I love that show. I actually was afraid I wouldn’t be able to watch it because it was a show Rosa and I watched religiously back in the day and I thought… but no, I’m fine. I’m loving it, which is great.
But here’s the thing: the finale to the fourth season ends with the two main characters, husband and wife, nearly splitting up because (amongst other reasons) she kissed someone. I sat there watching it and felt an oyster spoon gutting me – the two didn’t split up, though. They made it.
I remembered Rosa and I watching it. I remembered us saying, “That will never happen to us.”
I remembered kissing Cindy. I remembered my marriage ending.
And I bawled my eyes out.
So, when Vicky came home, I said, “Can I talk to you for a second?” And I told her the whole story. “So, here’s the thing. Let’s not let that happen to us okay?” And we kissed on it. Then, I added, “Not that I’m out there kissing anyone or anything – not that I’ve thought about it.”
I just couldn’t take losing Vicky. That would be very bad.
So, here it is. Nearly two in the morning. And I’m wide awake. I’ve been watching the DVDs and I got to the final episode.
Should I tell you that they two characters have split up at the end? No, I shouldn’t spoil the surprise… if there is any.
I couldn’t get even a minute into it. I felt that old, familiar tearing feeling inside that I felt when I lost Rosa. This time, though, I also thought about Vicky and what it would feel like to lose her.
I don’t think I could take it. Even thinking about it has me in tears… very annoying, by the way, considering how we’re just fine right now. It would be very bad.
So, Vicky. Honey. If you’re reading this, can I just say, because I don’t want to wake you up, let’s not let that happen to us, okay?
(Kiss)
“So, here’s the thing. Let’s not let that happen to us, okay?” I said and leaned in and kissed my bride.
I’ve been watching our Mad About You DVDs lately. I love that show. I actually was afraid I wouldn’t be able to watch it because it was a show Rosa and I watched religiously back in the day and I thought… but no, I’m fine. I’m loving it, which is great.
But here’s the thing: the finale to the fourth season ends with the two main characters, husband and wife, nearly splitting up because (amongst other reasons) she kissed someone. I sat there watching it and felt an oyster spoon gutting me – the two didn’t split up, though. They made it.
I remembered Rosa and I watching it. I remembered us saying, “That will never happen to us.”
I remembered kissing Cindy. I remembered my marriage ending.
And I bawled my eyes out.
So, when Vicky came home, I said, “Can I talk to you for a second?” And I told her the whole story. “So, here’s the thing. Let’s not let that happen to us okay?” And we kissed on it. Then, I added, “Not that I’m out there kissing anyone or anything – not that I’ve thought about it.”
I just couldn’t take losing Vicky. That would be very bad.
So, here it is. Nearly two in the morning. And I’m wide awake. I’ve been watching the DVDs and I got to the final episode.
Should I tell you that they two characters have split up at the end? No, I shouldn’t spoil the surprise… if there is any.
I couldn’t get even a minute into it. I felt that old, familiar tearing feeling inside that I felt when I lost Rosa. This time, though, I also thought about Vicky and what it would feel like to lose her.
I don’t think I could take it. Even thinking about it has me in tears… very annoying, by the way, considering how we’re just fine right now. It would be very bad.
So, Vicky. Honey. If you’re reading this, can I just say, because I don’t want to wake you up, let’s not let that happen to us, okay?
(Kiss)
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Enough to make my brain want to slit its writsts...
I'm going to tell you something I saw today and you're not going to believe me. You're not going to believe me but I have to tell you. I have to.
It was that bad.
I was watching a commercial for the Toyota Scion today... it was a cartoon...
And a caption read, "Animated sequence - Not a real car".
... What the hell?
It was that bad.
I was watching a commercial for the Toyota Scion today... it was a cartoon...
And a caption read, "Animated sequence - Not a real car".
... What the hell?
Houston, we have a premise...
Work on the new book is progressing... slowly...
I thought I'd include a clip for you in case anyone wasn't quite sure about the premise. In short, it's "Ken goes off to do another silly thing". In long, it's...
“What’s the book you want to write?”
Now, I put down her hand and rose from the bed. Though our condominium is small, the master bedroom is large. And I like that because it gives me room to move. And I needed room to move. I moved to the other side of the room and looked at her in the dark. “One that probably nobody is ever going to want to read.”
She was silent.
“What do you think?” I asked her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What do you mean by that? I’m no writer. It doesn’t make sense. How do you know nobody’s going to want to read it?”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
“I know.”
“What’s it about?”
“Success.”
The result was expected. Silence. Every time I thought of the book being on the shelf in a bookstore, that’s the same response I projected.
“What about success?”
“What do you mean?”
“Who’s success? What kind of story?”
“No. No story. Just – success.”
“I don’t get it.”
“That’s just it. I don’t think anyone will. But think about it, hon. We go through our lives expecting to be successful or having people tell us we should be successful, trying to be successful, working our asses off to be successful – and, in the end, I don’t even know what that means. Sean doesn’t know what that means. Tim’s too drunk to know what that means. Do you know what that means?”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Exactly.”
“No,” she said, sitting up. “What I mean is, I don’t know how you plan to write about book about this. If you plan to write a book about how to be a success -”
“No,” I told her. “It’s not how.” I thought for a moment. “It’s not even why. I mean, it’s not about how to be a success or why people are successful it’s… I can’t explain it. And I thought I could. I’ve been spending my whole day thinking about this. But anyone can say they have the answer and charge you hundreds of dollars on books and seminars on how to become a success. I mean, that’s a good way to become a success, you know?”
She smiled an odd smile. “But that’s not what you’re writing about.”
“No,” I said. Then, I found the word. “What. What is success?”
“What is success?”
“Yes. That’s what the book is going to be about.”
“You’re going to tell people how to be successful?”
“No. Not how. What.”
“You’re going to tell people what success is.” She was dubious.
“Right. That’s what I want to write about.”
“Honey, everybody knows what success is.”
“What is it?”
“Well, it depends on the person.”
“Such as?”
“It could be a lot of things.” She listed, “It could be having a lot of money. It could be having a big family. It could be having a nice home.”
“So, success could be having things.”
“It could be more than that. It could be reaching some state of enlightenment or driving cross-country.”
“Right,” I answered, nodding. “I see.”
Vicky had known me a while, though. She didn’t believe me. “Maybe I’m just not getting what you want to write about.”
Then, I looked at her. “What’s a ball?”
“Excuse me?”
“Define a ball for me.”
“Why?”
“Well, it could be a lot of things, right? It could be something used in basketball. It could be something used in football. It could be a place where a lot of well-dressed people gather to dance.”
She interrupted my stream of thought. “What’s your point?”
“That’s the thing. A ball could be a lot of things but that’s not what it is. Success could be a lot of things. I want to know what success is.”
I thought I'd include a clip for you in case anyone wasn't quite sure about the premise. In short, it's "Ken goes off to do another silly thing". In long, it's...
“What’s the book you want to write?”
Now, I put down her hand and rose from the bed. Though our condominium is small, the master bedroom is large. And I like that because it gives me room to move. And I needed room to move. I moved to the other side of the room and looked at her in the dark. “One that probably nobody is ever going to want to read.”
She was silent.
“What do you think?” I asked her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What do you mean by that? I’m no writer. It doesn’t make sense. How do you know nobody’s going to want to read it?”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
“I know.”
“What’s it about?”
“Success.”
The result was expected. Silence. Every time I thought of the book being on the shelf in a bookstore, that’s the same response I projected.
“What about success?”
“What do you mean?”
“Who’s success? What kind of story?”
“No. No story. Just – success.”
“I don’t get it.”
“That’s just it. I don’t think anyone will. But think about it, hon. We go through our lives expecting to be successful or having people tell us we should be successful, trying to be successful, working our asses off to be successful – and, in the end, I don’t even know what that means. Sean doesn’t know what that means. Tim’s too drunk to know what that means. Do you know what that means?”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Exactly.”
“No,” she said, sitting up. “What I mean is, I don’t know how you plan to write about book about this. If you plan to write a book about how to be a success -”
“No,” I told her. “It’s not how.” I thought for a moment. “It’s not even why. I mean, it’s not about how to be a success or why people are successful it’s… I can’t explain it. And I thought I could. I’ve been spending my whole day thinking about this. But anyone can say they have the answer and charge you hundreds of dollars on books and seminars on how to become a success. I mean, that’s a good way to become a success, you know?”
She smiled an odd smile. “But that’s not what you’re writing about.”
“No,” I said. Then, I found the word. “What. What is success?”
“What is success?”
“Yes. That’s what the book is going to be about.”
“You’re going to tell people how to be successful?”
“No. Not how. What.”
“You’re going to tell people what success is.” She was dubious.
“Right. That’s what I want to write about.”
“Honey, everybody knows what success is.”
“What is it?”
“Well, it depends on the person.”
“Such as?”
“It could be a lot of things.” She listed, “It could be having a lot of money. It could be having a big family. It could be having a nice home.”
“So, success could be having things.”
“It could be more than that. It could be reaching some state of enlightenment or driving cross-country.”
“Right,” I answered, nodding. “I see.”
Vicky had known me a while, though. She didn’t believe me. “Maybe I’m just not getting what you want to write about.”
Then, I looked at her. “What’s a ball?”
“Excuse me?”
“Define a ball for me.”
“Why?”
“Well, it could be a lot of things, right? It could be something used in basketball. It could be something used in football. It could be a place where a lot of well-dressed people gather to dance.”
She interrupted my stream of thought. “What’s your point?”
“That’s the thing. A ball could be a lot of things but that’s not what it is. Success could be a lot of things. I want to know what success is.”
Monday, October 09, 2006
Of course…
Here’s a story about how I was offered a job.
It pains me to tell it.
I’ve been going to a lot of interviews lately. A lot of good ones. Some decent ones.
… on Friday, I went to the interview from HELL.
I go in and meet with this woman who asks questions like, “And why do you think you can write?” or “Don’t you belong in someplace like Irvine?” Why do I think? Don’t I belong? These are antagonizing questions. But I try to spin them back at her with as much tact and salesmanshipiness as possible. Then, I get my chance to ask questions.
“How many people do you have in your department?”
“I have one person below me.”
“One?”
“Yes.” The one person was the other writer on staff.
I took a breath. “But I thought you were the Director of Product Management.”
“Yes.”
“Aren’t there any Product Managers?”
“Of course, there are. There are lots of them. And there are people who interact with sales – Business Analysts – we have a whole lot of them, too.”
… But only one person is beneath her.
Then, I meet with the writer on staff. She tells me that woman was “our boss but that changes from day to day.”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, we” and she uses “we” though she’s the only writer – “we like to think of ourselves as employees of the entire company. So, whenever anyone gives us work, they’re our boss that day.”
“That day?”
“Or for however long it takes to do the job.”
“So, you could have multiple bosses in one day?”
“Oh, yeah. That happens all the time.”
Check, please!
Then, she starts telling me about the documents she works on, and some of them are legal documents. I ask, “Do you have your legal department create the templates for them?”
“Oh, no,” she replies. “We don’t have a legal department. We do these ourselves.”
Recipe for disaster.
And, yep… they’re offering me a job.
“The thing is,” I tell the recruiter, “I was talking with one of your writers and she told me that the writers are responsible for all the legal documents and that there’s no legal department.”
“No. No.” he insists. “She’s got it all wrong. We have a legal department. The president’s wife is a lawyer.”
And this is all well calculated to make me feel better.
So, I figure I’d try and Google the company and find something good about them on the Internet(s)… well…in the past year… they cheated their employees out of benefits and they promised raises they never deliver and they promised starting employees a certain wage and then change that number after the person starts and they provided lousy customer service because they tried to get people off the phones instead of providing excellent customer – OKAY! ENOUGH! I GIVE!
But do you realize how much I’m going to regret not taking this job if I don’t find one in the next few months? After all, even the shittiest job is still a job, ya know?
Just my fucking luck…
It pains me to tell it.
I’ve been going to a lot of interviews lately. A lot of good ones. Some decent ones.
… on Friday, I went to the interview from HELL.
I go in and meet with this woman who asks questions like, “And why do you think you can write?” or “Don’t you belong in someplace like Irvine?” Why do I think? Don’t I belong? These are antagonizing questions. But I try to spin them back at her with as much tact and salesmanshipiness as possible. Then, I get my chance to ask questions.
“How many people do you have in your department?”
“I have one person below me.”
“One?”
“Yes.” The one person was the other writer on staff.
I took a breath. “But I thought you were the Director of Product Management.”
“Yes.”
“Aren’t there any Product Managers?”
“Of course, there are. There are lots of them. And there are people who interact with sales – Business Analysts – we have a whole lot of them, too.”
… But only one person is beneath her.
Then, I meet with the writer on staff. She tells me that woman was “our boss but that changes from day to day.”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, we” and she uses “we” though she’s the only writer – “we like to think of ourselves as employees of the entire company. So, whenever anyone gives us work, they’re our boss that day.”
“That day?”
“Or for however long it takes to do the job.”
“So, you could have multiple bosses in one day?”
“Oh, yeah. That happens all the time.”
Check, please!
Then, she starts telling me about the documents she works on, and some of them are legal documents. I ask, “Do you have your legal department create the templates for them?”
“Oh, no,” she replies. “We don’t have a legal department. We do these ourselves.”
Recipe for disaster.
And, yep… they’re offering me a job.
“The thing is,” I tell the recruiter, “I was talking with one of your writers and she told me that the writers are responsible for all the legal documents and that there’s no legal department.”
“No. No.” he insists. “She’s got it all wrong. We have a legal department. The president’s wife is a lawyer.”
And this is all well calculated to make me feel better.
So, I figure I’d try and Google the company and find something good about them on the Internet(s)… well…in the past year… they cheated their employees out of benefits and they promised raises they never deliver and they promised starting employees a certain wage and then change that number after the person starts and they provided lousy customer service because they tried to get people off the phones instead of providing excellent customer – OKAY! ENOUGH! I GIVE!
But do you realize how much I’m going to regret not taking this job if I don’t find one in the next few months? After all, even the shittiest job is still a job, ya know?
Just my fucking luck…
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Forgiveness...
As much as I loath the media ghouls who follow the grieving, I find it comforting to know that there are still those in our country who try to retain their humanity. Being exposed to the blood suckers who favor wars of agression and torture for our nation's future (and present) can tend to jade someone. Any sign of hope for peace, kindness, and humility bring a smile to this atheist, pinko, subversive's face.
As much as I loath the media ghouls who follow the grieving, I find it comforting to know that there are still those in our country who try to retain their humanity. Being exposed to the blood suckers who favor wars of agression and torture for our nation's future (and present) can tend to jade someone. Any sign of hope for peace, kindness, and humility bring a smile to this atheist, pinko, subversive's face.
Friday, October 06, 2006
I Hate Texas Chainsaw Massacre…
I said it.
They heard it.
It’s all my fault.
Sure, the original was a classic. Back in the 70’s, we hadn’t seen too many movies about stupid kids being trapped in a stupid house (or similar structure) and killed by stupid homicidal maniacs. It was still relatively new/not completely overdone.
But then, the sequel… and the sequel to the sequel… and the sequel’s sequel to the sequel… and…
They were all the same! All of them! Stupid family. Stupid kids. Stupid lines. Stupid directing.
And I said, “NO! No more! I’m sick of it! I hate Texas Chainsaw Massacre!”
And… it seemed to help. For a while… for a little while… it seemed to stop. For several years, movies almost exactly like it were made – distant cousins slaughtering sex-crazed teens in a warehouse – but not EXACTLY the same!
Then… the horror. They remade the movie! And it was even worse than the original! Now, the kids were obviously retarded. The killers were more inbred than most scientologists (thought I was going with a southern state, didn’t you?). The deaths were all so obviously escapable!!!
When will they stop making this fucking movie???
But, at least, now it seems there’s a slight reprieve. They’ve done every sequel they can. They’ve remade the damned thing. They’ve made it as many times as possible… right? I mean, what else can they do? Where else can they go with it?
How else can they film exactly the same story and insult our intelligence in
exactly the same way?
What are they going to do?
Make a prequel???
(Ssssssshhhhhh! Quiet Ken! Don’t say it out loud! It might come……. true….)
They heard it.
It’s all my fault.
Sure, the original was a classic. Back in the 70’s, we hadn’t seen too many movies about stupid kids being trapped in a stupid house (or similar structure) and killed by stupid homicidal maniacs. It was still relatively new/not completely overdone.
But then, the sequel… and the sequel to the sequel… and the sequel’s sequel to the sequel… and…
They were all the same! All of them! Stupid family. Stupid kids. Stupid lines. Stupid directing.
And I said, “NO! No more! I’m sick of it! I hate Texas Chainsaw Massacre!”
And… it seemed to help. For a while… for a little while… it seemed to stop. For several years, movies almost exactly like it were made – distant cousins slaughtering sex-crazed teens in a warehouse – but not EXACTLY the same!
Then… the horror. They remade the movie! And it was even worse than the original! Now, the kids were obviously retarded. The killers were more inbred than most scientologists (thought I was going with a southern state, didn’t you?). The deaths were all so obviously escapable!!!
When will they stop making this fucking movie???
But, at least, now it seems there’s a slight reprieve. They’ve done every sequel they can. They’ve remade the damned thing. They’ve made it as many times as possible… right? I mean, what else can they do? Where else can they go with it?
How else can they film exactly the same story and insult our intelligence in
exactly the same way?
What are they going to do?
Make a prequel???
(Ssssssshhhhhh! Quiet Ken! Don’t say it out loud! It might come……. true….)
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Success 5k...
For those of you following my search for the meaning of success, following the progress on my new book, I'm happen to report that I've reached the 5,000 word mark. A pittance, I know. I expect a great deal more out of myself.
But keep in mind that this isn't just some romantic comedy I'm writing. I've been assembling a mountain of research and every bit takes me down some new direction. Outside of the many pages of information from the Internet(s), I've found that I'm going to need to read some of those "book" things you hear so much about. I've settled on three:
Essential Tibetan Buddhism by Robert Thurman. Religion is very important to our idea of success and eastern philosophy differs greatly from western. I plan to present some Biblical references but those are all fairly obvious and simple. Eastern thought is filled with a variety of pitfalls and this book should help shore up my minimal knowledge on that topic. I've already started reading this book and can feel the bruises on my brain.
Nicomachean Ethics by Aristotle. This one's the big boy, the real pain in the ass. As a philosophy major (and I plan to finish my degree one day, honest), I knew I'd be faced with this book sooner or later. I was kind of hoping it would be later. Aristotle had a lot to say on the subject of success and this book should help me feret out some of the complexities in that.
Maslow's book on Self-Actualization. Can you guess I haven't bought this one, yet? Well, he wrote a few and I'm having a hard time tracking one down cheap. I've already hit a few used book stores and I'm contemplating driving up to LA to continue my search. We'll see. The connection between Maslow's Heirachy of Needs, Kundalini Yoga, and success is palpable and only a small part of what I intent to bring to this book.
So, 5,000 words. The frightening part is that I have only - just now - mentioned success. The rest has been setting up the back story, packing up the car for the journey.
Now, it actually gets difficult.
But keep in mind that this isn't just some romantic comedy I'm writing. I've been assembling a mountain of research and every bit takes me down some new direction. Outside of the many pages of information from the Internet(s), I've found that I'm going to need to read some of those "book" things you hear so much about. I've settled on three:
Essential Tibetan Buddhism by Robert Thurman. Religion is very important to our idea of success and eastern philosophy differs greatly from western. I plan to present some Biblical references but those are all fairly obvious and simple. Eastern thought is filled with a variety of pitfalls and this book should help shore up my minimal knowledge on that topic. I've already started reading this book and can feel the bruises on my brain.
Nicomachean Ethics by Aristotle. This one's the big boy, the real pain in the ass. As a philosophy major (and I plan to finish my degree one day, honest), I knew I'd be faced with this book sooner or later. I was kind of hoping it would be later. Aristotle had a lot to say on the subject of success and this book should help me feret out some of the complexities in that.
Maslow's book on Self-Actualization. Can you guess I haven't bought this one, yet? Well, he wrote a few and I'm having a hard time tracking one down cheap. I've already hit a few used book stores and I'm contemplating driving up to LA to continue my search. We'll see. The connection between Maslow's Heirachy of Needs, Kundalini Yoga, and success is palpable and only a small part of what I intent to bring to this book.
So, 5,000 words. The frightening part is that I have only - just now - mentioned success. The rest has been setting up the back story, packing up the car for the journey.
Now, it actually gets difficult.
Those who live in glass houses…
… shouldn’t try to molest children.
Or, at least, Mark Foley shouldn’t…
I originally wasn’t going to comment on the folly of Foley, that’s why it’s taken so long to get around to it. Then, I realized that the sad truth is, as always, the arrogance of his Republican counterparts.
What will a Republican do to deny culpability? Any answer will do.
Keep in mind that this is the same bunch who tried to burn Clinton at the stake for having sex with a consenting adult woman! Having sex with a consenting adult woman, it seems, it the most heinous sin. Molesting children on the other hand…
And so it began with excuse after excuse. First, he was a pedophile because he was an alcoholic. Then, he was a pedophile because he was gay. Neither of which are reasons to become a pedophile. The only reason to become a pedophile, it would appear is…
… the Democrats are responsible!!!
… No. That’s not right.
But that’s Dennis Hastert and Rush (“Let’s fly to South America and do it with enslaved, child prostitutes!”) Limbaugh assert. It’s all the Dem’s fault!
And Matt Drudge has an even better excuse: It’s the children’s fault! That’s right! They were asking for it! With their tight pants and their little packages and…
… mother fuckers.
The next time these bastards try to pass themselves off as the party of “morality”, can someone please shit in their face?
Let’s face it. There’s no level to which these evil sons of bitches won’t stoop. Start a war against a nation who did nothing to harm us? Sure. Hand over our nation’s financial reserves to the top 1%, including the major oil companies? Okay. Torture, steal, illegally imprison? Why not?
This is your nation going to hell. Hope you’re enjoying the view.
Or, at least, Mark Foley shouldn’t…
I originally wasn’t going to comment on the folly of Foley, that’s why it’s taken so long to get around to it. Then, I realized that the sad truth is, as always, the arrogance of his Republican counterparts.
What will a Republican do to deny culpability? Any answer will do.
Keep in mind that this is the same bunch who tried to burn Clinton at the stake for having sex with a consenting adult woman! Having sex with a consenting adult woman, it seems, it the most heinous sin. Molesting children on the other hand…
And so it began with excuse after excuse. First, he was a pedophile because he was an alcoholic. Then, he was a pedophile because he was gay. Neither of which are reasons to become a pedophile. The only reason to become a pedophile, it would appear is…
… the Democrats are responsible!!!
… No. That’s not right.
But that’s Dennis Hastert and Rush (“Let’s fly to South America and do it with enslaved, child prostitutes!”) Limbaugh assert. It’s all the Dem’s fault!
And Matt Drudge has an even better excuse: It’s the children’s fault! That’s right! They were asking for it! With their tight pants and their little packages and…
… mother fuckers.
The next time these bastards try to pass themselves off as the party of “morality”, can someone please shit in their face?
Let’s face it. There’s no level to which these evil sons of bitches won’t stoop. Start a war against a nation who did nothing to harm us? Sure. Hand over our nation’s financial reserves to the top 1%, including the major oil companies? Okay. Torture, steal, illegally imprison? Why not?
This is your nation going to hell. Hope you’re enjoying the view.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Yahoo... stupid...
Amateurs… fucking amateurs…
As a writer, I get a bit peeved at dogshit that tries to pass itself along as writing. As an out of work writer… well… it pisses me off.
Take, for instance, this recent article on Yahoo. “Big Bang Busters” the teaser heading read. Big Bang Busters? Well, wouldn’t that mean that someone busted the Big Bang theory – the most widely agreed-upon theory in cosmology (the one right-wing nutjobs are so afraid of… no, not evolution, the other one) – yes, that’s what such a heading would mean.
… No. When you click it, you find out that the article is about scientists who have helped substantiate that theory even more. Not Bust. Substantiate.
Dear Yahoo… LEARN HOW TO FUCKING WRITE!
(I know this isn’t totally fair. Competency is sadly lacking is most journalistic avenues these days… But I’ll start with Yahoo!)
As a writer, I get a bit peeved at dogshit that tries to pass itself along as writing. As an out of work writer… well… it pisses me off.
Take, for instance, this recent article on Yahoo. “Big Bang Busters” the teaser heading read. Big Bang Busters? Well, wouldn’t that mean that someone busted the Big Bang theory – the most widely agreed-upon theory in cosmology (the one right-wing nutjobs are so afraid of… no, not evolution, the other one) – yes, that’s what such a heading would mean.
… No. When you click it, you find out that the article is about scientists who have helped substantiate that theory even more. Not Bust. Substantiate.
Dear Yahoo… LEARN HOW TO FUCKING WRITE!
(I know this isn’t totally fair. Competency is sadly lacking is most journalistic avenues these days… But I’ll start with Yahoo!)
Friday, September 29, 2006
Buns of…
(This just goes to show I’ve spent too much time at the gym lately…)
From the people who brought you BUNS OF STEEL comes the latest in making your asscheeks as metallic as ever, get ready for
BUNS OF STRONTIUM!
Is it metallic? It’s silvery baby!
Is it hot? Baby, it burns in air to produce strontium oxide!
Is it radioactive? Listen to this: it’s got a half-life of 28.90 years!
And best of all, they’re still a bit squishy, preventing all those unwanted lawsuits and jokes about cracking a walnut!
BUNS OF STRONTIUM – when buns of steel just aren’t enough!
From the people who brought you BUNS OF STEEL comes the latest in making your asscheeks as metallic as ever, get ready for
BUNS OF STRONTIUM!
Is it metallic? It’s silvery baby!
Is it hot? Baby, it burns in air to produce strontium oxide!
Is it radioactive? Listen to this: it’s got a half-life of 28.90 years!
And best of all, they’re still a bit squishy, preventing all those unwanted lawsuits and jokes about cracking a walnut!
BUNS OF STRONTIUM – when buns of steel just aren’t enough!
Thursday, September 28, 2006
The "Fuck You Bill" has passed the Senate...
The Republicans - you know, those elite father figures who know best... wasting the surplus, starting wars, etc. - have now decided to take another big bite out of our civil rights.
The Senate today passed the "detainee interrogation bill"... sounds like it regulates how detainees are interrogated, doesn't it? But it true Repulsivecan fashion, it also means:
Any legal residents of the country could be rounded up with no rights as an "enemy combatant". Remember when the enemy was just illegal aliens?
Violation of the Geneva Convention. But that wouldn't be the first international treaty Shrub and his cronies have violated.
Wave bye-bye to Habeas Corpus. But does anyone really want to know why they're being carted away against their will to an internment camp?
Prisoners are no longer allowed judicial review. Shrub can simply label them an enemy combatant and it's disappear time for them.
Confessions under torture are admissable as evidence. You know, the thing you confessed to while they were breaking your thumbs? Yeah, when you confessed to killing Jesus? Well, now they can try you for that, too.
Secret Evidence. As a defendent, you don't need to know what's being held against you - fuck your miranda rights!
Rape and sexual assault are still illegal... IF you can prove that it was against your will!!!
Now, before you really start to become afraid, you should realize that this still needs to pass the House... which already passed a similar bill... and Shrub's desk to...
We're boned.
The Senate today passed the "detainee interrogation bill"... sounds like it regulates how detainees are interrogated, doesn't it? But it true Repulsivecan fashion, it also means:
Any legal residents of the country could be rounded up with no rights as an "enemy combatant". Remember when the enemy was just illegal aliens?
Violation of the Geneva Convention. But that wouldn't be the first international treaty Shrub and his cronies have violated.
Wave bye-bye to Habeas Corpus. But does anyone really want to know why they're being carted away against their will to an internment camp?
Prisoners are no longer allowed judicial review. Shrub can simply label them an enemy combatant and it's disappear time for them.
Confessions under torture are admissable as evidence. You know, the thing you confessed to while they were breaking your thumbs? Yeah, when you confessed to killing Jesus? Well, now they can try you for that, too.
Secret Evidence. As a defendent, you don't need to know what's being held against you - fuck your miranda rights!
Rape and sexual assault are still illegal... IF you can prove that it was against your will!!!
Now, before you really start to become afraid, you should realize that this still needs to pass the House... which already passed a similar bill... and Shrub's desk to...
We're boned.
Success? “I don’t know anything about that.”…
With the month ending, I thought I should probably add a kind of post-mortem on the success survey. Well, it didn’t work as well as I’d hoped. While I received over a dozen responses, all of them very insightful, I was hoping for a lot more.
Today, I think I found a reason why the responses were so spare.
I asked someone about the survey and if she’d received it. She had. “But I didn’t have anything to add.”
I didn’t quite understand. “Anything to add?”
She said, “It was about success, wasn’t it? I don’t know anything about that.”
Don’t know anything about that.
In the past month, I’ve found myself buffeted by just this attitude. As if their own success is something people know nothing about. As if success should be left to someone else.
Abdicating the success of your life to another – shying away from that most primary of responsibilities… where do people think that’s going to lead them? And yet, I’ve run into that same (lack of) philosophy wherever I turn.
It frightens me.
I don’t think of myself as up on a mountain – but in this one case I can’t think of another analogy. It’s not just that people are apathetic about living successful lives but, rather, that they fear it on some kind of primal, phobic level. And I can certainly understand that. After all, my neurosis about being successful in my own life is what’s driving me to write this book. But to shy away from it, to claim no responsibility for it… that’s just wrong.
Today, I think I found a reason why the responses were so spare.
I asked someone about the survey and if she’d received it. She had. “But I didn’t have anything to add.”
I didn’t quite understand. “Anything to add?”
She said, “It was about success, wasn’t it? I don’t know anything about that.”
Don’t know anything about that.
In the past month, I’ve found myself buffeted by just this attitude. As if their own success is something people know nothing about. As if success should be left to someone else.
Abdicating the success of your life to another – shying away from that most primary of responsibilities… where do people think that’s going to lead them? And yet, I’ve run into that same (lack of) philosophy wherever I turn.
It frightens me.
I don’t think of myself as up on a mountain – but in this one case I can’t think of another analogy. It’s not just that people are apathetic about living successful lives but, rather, that they fear it on some kind of primal, phobic level. And I can certainly understand that. After all, my neurosis about being successful in my own life is what’s driving me to write this book. But to shy away from it, to claim no responsibility for it… that’s just wrong.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Another reason why I’m not a Christian…
My friend, Megan, died recently.
She was kind and good, honest and caring, compassionate and loving. She was honest and nonviolent and generous. Megan was not, however, a Christian.
According to Christian doctrine, she now burns in the fires of hell for all eternity.
Christians are a group of people bullied by a belief.
No thanks.
I’m proud to say that Megan did not have any last minute conversion. She died unafraid, unbargaining. I can only hope to be as brave.
She was kind and good, honest and caring, compassionate and loving. She was honest and nonviolent and generous. Megan was not, however, a Christian.
According to Christian doctrine, she now burns in the fires of hell for all eternity.
Christians are a group of people bullied by a belief.
No thanks.
I’m proud to say that Megan did not have any last minute conversion. She died unafraid, unbargaining. I can only hope to be as brave.
Monday, September 25, 2006
Terrorists less scary & gas is cheaper!...
Yep, gas just gets cheaper and cheaper under Shrub's leadership! And the terrorists have suddenly become less scary - they even forgot how to make bombs out of bottled water!
Yep, those neo-cons sure are doing a great job! I feel so much safer and ready to waste precious, natural resources!
... does anyone really buy this shit?
Yep, those neo-cons sure are doing a great job! I feel so much safer and ready to waste precious, natural resources!
... does anyone really buy this shit?
Friday, September 22, 2006
The Converse of Success…
With all of my talk about success, I’ve never sought to point out failure, or someone I thought was a failure. The point of the book I’m writing isn’t to point at success and say, “There! That’s what it is. That’s what you need to achieve.” Rather, I want to create a dialogue that approaches what success could be. And I’m not even trying to get near failure.
Who would want to?
But then, of course, it happened. And it was right in front of me. Failure – writ large – right in front of my eyes.
Which is why I finally decided to write about it, because the example is so clear. Like success, failure isn’t a thing – it’s a state. And just as you hope to find success one day, I think it’s a natural reaction to hope that someone who is a failure will leave that state with great rapidity.
We have probably all known a failure or two. Most of the time, it’s something simple – along the lines of just fucking up, blowing it. So, failure as a concept is pretty simple to reconcile. I think if I was going to define the most profound state of failure, I’d say that it is the state in which a person is so lost to their own needs and best interests that they have created a perpetual no-win situation for themselves. Personal entropy. Extreme suckage.
So, there’s this person I know. I shouldn’t really feel bad for her, she’s brought her situation on herself, but I do. She finds things in life she wants, disregards her motivations and best interests, and goes for them, no matter who gets hurt (including herself). I’ll give you an example. She wanted to have a kid so bad she had one with the first sperm donor that came along. She didn’t think too much about being a parent and has since discovered that she hates it.
You see, she created her own failure condition.
She used to be Megan’s best friend. When Megan was sick, she didn’t reach out a hand in friendship and, though she’s a medical professional, she didn’t try to help Megan’s medical condition. She just ignored her… and Megan died. She found out about this because Megan died in her hospital and Megan’s file happened to pass by her desk.
So, she failed as a friend.
Then, Sean told her that (though he’d allow her to pay her respects at Megan’s memorial service) he never wanted to see her face or hear from her again. She used to be an integral part in this group of people but, because of her disregard for her sick friend, she’s now ostracized.
So, here’s a person who has put herself in a situation where she’s lost her friends, has a child she doesn’t want, doesn’t consider the long-term ramifications of her actions but simply reacts to impulses from her Id like a child… and is, as a result, miserable. In fact, until she breaks this cycle, she’ll always be miserable – and she won’t know this until she breaks the cycle.
That’s failure, without a doubt.
Who would want to?
But then, of course, it happened. And it was right in front of me. Failure – writ large – right in front of my eyes.
Which is why I finally decided to write about it, because the example is so clear. Like success, failure isn’t a thing – it’s a state. And just as you hope to find success one day, I think it’s a natural reaction to hope that someone who is a failure will leave that state with great rapidity.
We have probably all known a failure or two. Most of the time, it’s something simple – along the lines of just fucking up, blowing it. So, failure as a concept is pretty simple to reconcile. I think if I was going to define the most profound state of failure, I’d say that it is the state in which a person is so lost to their own needs and best interests that they have created a perpetual no-win situation for themselves. Personal entropy. Extreme suckage.
So, there’s this person I know. I shouldn’t really feel bad for her, she’s brought her situation on herself, but I do. She finds things in life she wants, disregards her motivations and best interests, and goes for them, no matter who gets hurt (including herself). I’ll give you an example. She wanted to have a kid so bad she had one with the first sperm donor that came along. She didn’t think too much about being a parent and has since discovered that she hates it.
You see, she created her own failure condition.
She used to be Megan’s best friend. When Megan was sick, she didn’t reach out a hand in friendship and, though she’s a medical professional, she didn’t try to help Megan’s medical condition. She just ignored her… and Megan died. She found out about this because Megan died in her hospital and Megan’s file happened to pass by her desk.
So, she failed as a friend.
Then, Sean told her that (though he’d allow her to pay her respects at Megan’s memorial service) he never wanted to see her face or hear from her again. She used to be an integral part in this group of people but, because of her disregard for her sick friend, she’s now ostracized.
So, here’s a person who has put herself in a situation where she’s lost her friends, has a child she doesn’t want, doesn’t consider the long-term ramifications of her actions but simply reacts to impulses from her Id like a child… and is, as a result, miserable. In fact, until she breaks this cycle, she’ll always be miserable – and she won’t know this until she breaks the cycle.
That’s failure, without a doubt.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Megan Deyo…
I don’t know what to say about this but I know that I probably should as a few readers know who I’m talking about.
Megan Deyo died this weekend, early Sunday morning. (Well, it was early for me.) She was the wife of one of my best friends. She was the person who introduced me to Rosa... but try not to hold that against her. She and I knew each other for a long time and were even intimate on occasion. (We even shared fluids.)
Megan was honest and never anything except herself and I gotta give her props for that. Yes, she pissed me off more than once but that’s par for the course.
She died of lung failure as a result of host versus graft, after battling leukemia. It was a five-year battle and she was tired.
Megan and I met 22/23 years ago in Miss Griswold’s class, back at Santa Ana Valley High. Tim Murphy and I sat near each other. We each gave Griswold a hell of a time – ah, memories! Megan, meanwhile, would sit on the sidelines, telling us both to shut up. But we got her to laugh a few times, so it wasn’t a complete loss.
Sean, Megan’s husband, helped me through the loss of Rosa and now I’m doing whatever I can to help him through the loss of Megan. The foot’s on the other hand now, as they say. Sean’s a wee bit less crazy than me, though.
I’ll miss Megan. She never liked me very much and I didn’t exactly go out of my way to spend a whole lot of time with her, either. And, yet, we traveled along similar tracks and went down neighboring roads.
I’m too young to be losing friends this way. Next time, let’s just get in a fight.
Megan Deyo died this weekend, early Sunday morning. (Well, it was early for me.) She was the wife of one of my best friends. She was the person who introduced me to Rosa... but try not to hold that against her. She and I knew each other for a long time and were even intimate on occasion. (We even shared fluids.)
Megan was honest and never anything except herself and I gotta give her props for that. Yes, she pissed me off more than once but that’s par for the course.
She died of lung failure as a result of host versus graft, after battling leukemia. It was a five-year battle and she was tired.
Megan and I met 22/23 years ago in Miss Griswold’s class, back at Santa Ana Valley High. Tim Murphy and I sat near each other. We each gave Griswold a hell of a time – ah, memories! Megan, meanwhile, would sit on the sidelines, telling us both to shut up. But we got her to laugh a few times, so it wasn’t a complete loss.
Sean, Megan’s husband, helped me through the loss of Rosa and now I’m doing whatever I can to help him through the loss of Megan. The foot’s on the other hand now, as they say. Sean’s a wee bit less crazy than me, though.
I’ll miss Megan. She never liked me very much and I didn’t exactly go out of my way to spend a whole lot of time with her, either. And, yet, we traveled along similar tracks and went down neighboring roads.
I’m too young to be losing friends this way. Next time, let’s just get in a fight.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Please take this survey...
To help me along with this new book, I thought I'd put together a little survey, thus...
What is success? How do we know we are living successful lives?
The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines success as: a) a degree or measure of succeeding, b) a favorable or desired outcome, and c) the attainment of wealth, favor, or eminence. American Heritage defines it similarly. But how do these definitions pertain to our lives? Can we really consider ourselves successful merely on these terms?
I am presently working on a novel that addresses just this issue: how do we reconcile ourselves to our successes and our failures. To this end, I’ve broadened the dictionary’s definition to include the following: a) Success is a positive resolution in the process of self-definition. An action with a positive outcome, we term “success”. An action with a negative outcome, we term “failure”, and b) Success is the yardstick against which we measure our lives.
As you can probably see, I’m hoping to address the concept of success as a long-term concept. It’s easy to accept or gain success in the short term, via a test grade or a party your threw or a job you did well, but long-term success in life is, in my experience, much harder to define.
This is simply scratching the surface and that’s why I need your help. The survey, below, asks questions about success. I would like to have as many people possible complete this survey as part of a study (however unscientific) on the idea of success. Please complete it right away, posting your results in the comments section. Your help is greatly appreciated.
Thank you for your time and participation.
Success Survey
1. Looking back on your entire life, do you consider yourself a success or failure? Please provide up to five reasons why.
a.
b.
c.
d.
e.
2. What specific qualities make you a success/failure?
3. How can you achieve success in your life? What are you doing to achieve success?
4. Why do people fail to achieve success?
5. How much importance do you place on living a “successful life”? Why?
Round Two: Demographics
6. Gender:
7. Date of Birth:
8. Years of Education (above high school, count years progressively: 13, 14, etc.):
What is success? How do we know we are living successful lives?
The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines success as: a) a degree or measure of succeeding, b) a favorable or desired outcome, and c) the attainment of wealth, favor, or eminence. American Heritage defines it similarly. But how do these definitions pertain to our lives? Can we really consider ourselves successful merely on these terms?
I am presently working on a novel that addresses just this issue: how do we reconcile ourselves to our successes and our failures. To this end, I’ve broadened the dictionary’s definition to include the following: a) Success is a positive resolution in the process of self-definition. An action with a positive outcome, we term “success”. An action with a negative outcome, we term “failure”, and b) Success is the yardstick against which we measure our lives.
As you can probably see, I’m hoping to address the concept of success as a long-term concept. It’s easy to accept or gain success in the short term, via a test grade or a party your threw or a job you did well, but long-term success in life is, in my experience, much harder to define.
This is simply scratching the surface and that’s why I need your help. The survey, below, asks questions about success. I would like to have as many people possible complete this survey as part of a study (however unscientific) on the idea of success. Please complete it right away, posting your results in the comments section. Your help is greatly appreciated.
Thank you for your time and participation.
Success Survey
1. Looking back on your entire life, do you consider yourself a success or failure? Please provide up to five reasons why.
a.
b.
c.
d.
e.
2. What specific qualities make you a success/failure?
3. How can you achieve success in your life? What are you doing to achieve success?
4. Why do people fail to achieve success?
5. How much importance do you place on living a “successful life”? Why?
Round Two: Demographics
6. Gender:
7. Date of Birth:
8. Years of Education (above high school, count years progressively: 13, 14, etc.):
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Tooting my own horn
Earlier this summer I took NALA's Certified Legal Assistant Exam. I studied for over 3 months for this test. My goal was to pass it one the first try (many have to retake sections of the exam).
I committed myself to studying almost every day during that time and took the exam in July. I felt good about it, but have tried not to think much about it since then since the results would take 6-8 weeks to receive.
Well, last week I got the results...and I passed! I am now certified, and that does not mean certifiable! What does that mean? Well, hopefully it will mean bigger salaries and better positions in the future (my new job already has a better salary). Oh, and I get to use "CLA" after my name and can call myself a "Certified Paralegal".
So everyone all together now....YAY!!!!
I committed myself to studying almost every day during that time and took the exam in July. I felt good about it, but have tried not to think much about it since then since the results would take 6-8 weeks to receive.
Well, last week I got the results...and I passed! I am now certified, and that does not mean certifiable! What does that mean? Well, hopefully it will mean bigger salaries and better positions in the future (my new job already has a better salary). Oh, and I get to use "CLA" after my name and can call myself a "Certified Paralegal".
So everyone all together now....YAY!!!!
Saturday, September 09, 2006
What success really means?…
So, I was thinking about my definition of success last night… and I realized I didn’t like it.
Oh, it went a lot further than the dictionary at defining what success is but it, well, it didn’t get anywhere near the side of the barn with relation to why I wanted to write this book in the first place!
So, what was the reason? Well, because I don’t think I’m very successful and being out of work only makes that observation that much easier! And I’m not the only one. I’ve discovered that it’s more wide-spread than I originally thought, this discontentment, this angst about success.
Why is it more widespread? I think the answer lies back with Maslow and Kundalini. Meeting our most basic needs drives us to want more, to want those more ethereal achievements higher up the ladder. Am I over-simplifying this? Sure! But that’s why it’s the subject of a book. Still, I think it illustrates very clearly how this drive for success remains and how failure is so easy to find… if you’re looking.
But that bandies the term, “success”, around a lot of other things. How can it have its fingers in so many pies?
Which is when I stumbled on Definition #2.
Success is the yardstick against which we measure our lives.
Let’s repeat that: Success is the yardstick against which we measure our lives.
How do we know how we’ve measured up? How can we tell how effective we’ve been? What kind of life have we led? By our measure of success, that’s how.
Now, you can come back to me and tell me about people who lie to themselves or settle for less or don’t need such highfalutin ideas – and you’d be right. We’re playing in the kiddie pool of human nature and some piss is going to get spilled.
Still, I think that definition comes much closer to the mark, at least with regards to why I’m writing this book.
This is not a short-term project. I may be working on this for the next year… or more. I’ll keep you posted.
Oh, it went a lot further than the dictionary at defining what success is but it, well, it didn’t get anywhere near the side of the barn with relation to why I wanted to write this book in the first place!
So, what was the reason? Well, because I don’t think I’m very successful and being out of work only makes that observation that much easier! And I’m not the only one. I’ve discovered that it’s more wide-spread than I originally thought, this discontentment, this angst about success.
Why is it more widespread? I think the answer lies back with Maslow and Kundalini. Meeting our most basic needs drives us to want more, to want those more ethereal achievements higher up the ladder. Am I over-simplifying this? Sure! But that’s why it’s the subject of a book. Still, I think it illustrates very clearly how this drive for success remains and how failure is so easy to find… if you’re looking.
But that bandies the term, “success”, around a lot of other things. How can it have its fingers in so many pies?
Which is when I stumbled on Definition #2.
Success is the yardstick against which we measure our lives.
Let’s repeat that: Success is the yardstick against which we measure our lives.
How do we know how we’ve measured up? How can we tell how effective we’ve been? What kind of life have we led? By our measure of success, that’s how.
Now, you can come back to me and tell me about people who lie to themselves or settle for less or don’t need such highfalutin ideas – and you’d be right. We’re playing in the kiddie pool of human nature and some piss is going to get spilled.
Still, I think that definition comes much closer to the mark, at least with regards to why I’m writing this book.
This is not a short-term project. I may be working on this for the next year… or more. I’ll keep you posted.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Thursday, September 07, 2006
All lies? Why not?…
You know, it just occurred to me that nowhere in the Bible does it say that what is included in the Bible is the truth. Nowhere. It was just always assumed. There’s no, “And God smote him. And we’re not kidding here. This is serious stuff.” There’s not even a note at the end saying, “Oh, and by the way, this has all been true. 100% factual. Honest Injun.”
And that leads me to believe we’ve all been had.
All of us. From the Xtians to the Heeb to the Turban-head… all chumps. God’s up there laughing his eternal ass off at our expense and all his homies are all, “You fucked them up!”
Oh yeah? Well, fuck you, God. Fuck you and that smarmy little “I can hang on a cross and rise from the dead – can you?!” son of yours.
It just had to be said.
And that leads me to believe we’ve all been had.
All of us. From the Xtians to the Heeb to the Turban-head… all chumps. God’s up there laughing his eternal ass off at our expense and all his homies are all, “You fucked them up!”
Oh yeah? Well, fuck you, God. Fuck you and that smarmy little “I can hang on a cross and rise from the dead – can you?!” son of yours.
It just had to be said.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Success Redefined...
Just a few minutes after the last post and I've done some "tweaking" to the definition. This might require still further revision...
Success is a positive resolution in the process of self-definition. An action with a positive outcome, we term “success”. An action with a negative outcome, we term “failure”.
Success is a positive resolution in the process of self-definition. An action with a positive outcome, we term “success”. An action with a negative outcome, we term “failure”.
Success gets silly…
This new book has got me thinking, and that’s usually a bad thing.
The pattern I’ve set down in the last year or so has been one of constant work: write, revise, write, revise. Always working. But now, with this new book on success and its meaning, I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking, trying to crack the philosophical nut so many take for granted.
And it’s led me down some odd paths. I’ve shared a few with you. Here’s another one…
Success is elusive, obviously. Not just achieving success but defining it. It’s a greasy term, a sleek weasel; it doesn’t want to be caught.
So people tend to isolate it and apply it rather discriminately. For instance, you might hear someone mention that they are successful in their career or in their “goals” or as a parent, and so on.
But even then, success works against you. It won’t be your bitch.
What’s it mean to be a success in your career? Does it mean you’ve achieved the position you want? Or that you do a good job? Or that you’re paid well? Yes? No? All? Some? The problem is that the closer you get to defining it, the farther you are from understanding it.
What if you consider yourself a success as a parent? Is it because your child is healthy? Smart? Happy? Just like you? A free thinker? Again, labels muddy things.
So, you have to draw back. I know I do. That’s the whole point of this. I spent years in that mud and I want to clear it up.
So, I was driving last night and I tried another approach. Why do we work? To get money… right?
Um, no. If work was purely utilitarian, people wouldn’t be so concerned with job fulfillment. Switch it around, you run into the same problem. It also means that you can’t apply such answers as “security” or “belonging”. The problem is that we work for more reasons than that.
And we’re back to Maslow and Kundalini.
But, rather than leave it there, I decided to keep going anyway. What other seemingly straight paths curve, mirage-like, as we get closer? I used the template, “Why do we…?” as a guide, as in “Why do we work?”
What popped immediately into my mind was, “Why do we climb mountains?” (Which is probably better phrased as “Why climb a mountain?”)
The obvious answer is, “To get to the top.”
But I realized, almost immediately that it isn’t so. There’s rarely anything on the top. We can see the top with satellites, anyway. Maybe, at one time, that reason sufficed but, now that people have already climbed all the mountains, why keep doing it? For exercise? No, you could go to the gym for that.
And, yet, people still climb mountains. Why?
And then, it occurred to me… that definition that eludes us so…
Now, before you ask, I have looked this up in the dictionary and the definitions provided there are the most horrid sort. They are:
1. the favorable or prosperous termination of attempts or endeavors.
Well, this doesn’t work. This would mean you couldn’t consider yourself a success until you were dead (thus the term “termination”)! No! No!
2. the attainment of wealth, position, honors, or the like.
Success is simply getting shit? No! If it was true, it would still be incomplete – because half of gaining wealth, position, etc. is to have others see it. It would be senseless in a vacuum. But it’s not true at all because there are smaller successes in life, just as valuable – remember what it was like to be able to tie your shoes by yourself?
3. a successful performance or achievement
Any term that uses itself to define itself is hogwash. It’s as if red was defined as “something red”!
and…
4. a person or thing that is successful
See #3.
So, the dictionary was of no use at all. Success needs more to define it, and that’s what I thought I had!
Success is the action of self-definition. An action with a positive outcome, we term “success”. An action with a negative outcome, we term “failure”.
This seemed to work. Somehow, all along, I have know that Success and Failure were flips of the coin away. In addition, and unlike the dictionary definition, success does have a solitary component that goes beyond “getting things”.
But my brain wasn’t done, yet. For, after thinking about mountain climbers, it had already gone to the next step… the next question…
Why did the chicken cross the road?
Oh, lord.
Check please!
Now, the traditional answer is “To get to the other side”… though there are many others!
Still, if you look at it in terms of this new definition, you begin to see that it’s not about the other side… it’s not about the road… it’s about why anyone tries to do anything. It’s about the impulse of life, that same force that drove sperm on their monumental swim…
I'm going to have to think some more…
The pattern I’ve set down in the last year or so has been one of constant work: write, revise, write, revise. Always working. But now, with this new book on success and its meaning, I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking, trying to crack the philosophical nut so many take for granted.
And it’s led me down some odd paths. I’ve shared a few with you. Here’s another one…
Success is elusive, obviously. Not just achieving success but defining it. It’s a greasy term, a sleek weasel; it doesn’t want to be caught.
So people tend to isolate it and apply it rather discriminately. For instance, you might hear someone mention that they are successful in their career or in their “goals” or as a parent, and so on.
But even then, success works against you. It won’t be your bitch.
What’s it mean to be a success in your career? Does it mean you’ve achieved the position you want? Or that you do a good job? Or that you’re paid well? Yes? No? All? Some? The problem is that the closer you get to defining it, the farther you are from understanding it.
What if you consider yourself a success as a parent? Is it because your child is healthy? Smart? Happy? Just like you? A free thinker? Again, labels muddy things.
So, you have to draw back. I know I do. That’s the whole point of this. I spent years in that mud and I want to clear it up.
So, I was driving last night and I tried another approach. Why do we work? To get money… right?
Um, no. If work was purely utilitarian, people wouldn’t be so concerned with job fulfillment. Switch it around, you run into the same problem. It also means that you can’t apply such answers as “security” or “belonging”. The problem is that we work for more reasons than that.
And we’re back to Maslow and Kundalini.
But, rather than leave it there, I decided to keep going anyway. What other seemingly straight paths curve, mirage-like, as we get closer? I used the template, “Why do we…?” as a guide, as in “Why do we work?”
What popped immediately into my mind was, “Why do we climb mountains?” (Which is probably better phrased as “Why climb a mountain?”)
The obvious answer is, “To get to the top.”
But I realized, almost immediately that it isn’t so. There’s rarely anything on the top. We can see the top with satellites, anyway. Maybe, at one time, that reason sufficed but, now that people have already climbed all the mountains, why keep doing it? For exercise? No, you could go to the gym for that.
And, yet, people still climb mountains. Why?
And then, it occurred to me… that definition that eludes us so…
Now, before you ask, I have looked this up in the dictionary and the definitions provided there are the most horrid sort. They are:
1. the favorable or prosperous termination of attempts or endeavors.
Well, this doesn’t work. This would mean you couldn’t consider yourself a success until you were dead (thus the term “termination”)! No! No!
2. the attainment of wealth, position, honors, or the like.
Success is simply getting shit? No! If it was true, it would still be incomplete – because half of gaining wealth, position, etc. is to have others see it. It would be senseless in a vacuum. But it’s not true at all because there are smaller successes in life, just as valuable – remember what it was like to be able to tie your shoes by yourself?
3. a successful performance or achievement
Any term that uses itself to define itself is hogwash. It’s as if red was defined as “something red”!
and…
4. a person or thing that is successful
See #3.
So, the dictionary was of no use at all. Success needs more to define it, and that’s what I thought I had!
Success is the action of self-definition. An action with a positive outcome, we term “success”. An action with a negative outcome, we term “failure”.
This seemed to work. Somehow, all along, I have know that Success and Failure were flips of the coin away. In addition, and unlike the dictionary definition, success does have a solitary component that goes beyond “getting things”.
But my brain wasn’t done, yet. For, after thinking about mountain climbers, it had already gone to the next step… the next question…
Why did the chicken cross the road?
Oh, lord.
Check please!
Now, the traditional answer is “To get to the other side”… though there are many others!
Still, if you look at it in terms of this new definition, you begin to see that it’s not about the other side… it’s not about the road… it’s about why anyone tries to do anything. It’s about the impulse of life, that same force that drove sperm on their monumental swim…
I'm going to have to think some more…
Friday, September 01, 2006
More free video games!...
... even if they never existed...
Oh, sure. I'd heard that The Last Starfighter existed somewhere - but I never saw it! And what about the game that the designer in (the movie!) TRON was supposed to have created? How do you play that?!
Well, this wonderful bunch of programmers got together - AND MADE THE GAMES!
That's right. And you gotta check it out, even if just to play The Last Starfighter... which I did... and it is hard! (Which explains why Lance Guest was the only one to beat it... I guess...)
Oh, sure. I'd heard that The Last Starfighter existed somewhere - but I never saw it! And what about the game that the designer in (the movie!) TRON was supposed to have created? How do you play that?!
Well, this wonderful bunch of programmers got together - AND MADE THE GAMES!
That's right. And you gotta check it out, even if just to play The Last Starfighter... which I did... and it is hard! (Which explains why Lance Guest was the only one to beat it... I guess...)
Ken & Vicky meet ME…
Those of you who know Vicky know about her uncanny luck with winning prizes by calling into radio stations. (And now, if you don’t know her, you know that, too.)
Recently, Vicky won another prize.
She called me and asked, “What are you doing Thursday night?”
I scanned my brain for my heavy social schedule… and didn’t find one. “Nothing.”
“Good!” she exclaimed. “Then, you can go to the Melissa Etheridge concert with me!”
… curses…
So, tonight, we drove up to the Greek Theater for the concert.
I guess it didn’t help that we quarreled almost the entire way up. I can’t understand why; it’s not as though there’s any stress in our lives…
But we got there with a hasty truce and, having parked a mile away, began the hike to the theater. Vicky saw a bathroom about halfway there and began pulling me in that direction. “We’re going to be late,” I cautioned here.
She had a panicked look. “That’s fine. This is important!”
So, to the bathroom we went. It was a small shack with men’s on one side and ladies’ on the other. So, I figured I might as well drain some fluids while I was there.
I didn’t think the bathroom would be too busy. I didn’t know much about Melissa Etheridge but I did know:
* She had a baby with David Crosby.
* She was a lesbian.
* This meant she hadn’t had sex with Crosby… thus increasing my respect for her.
Thus, I surmised that the male crowd wouldn’t be anywhere nearby. And I was right – the bathroom was empty! With three stalls total, and two of them broke, there was still no line! So, I went ahead… and went.
I wasn’t surprised when someone walked in but I was surprised to see it was a woman. You’ve never seen someone shut down the valve and zip up so fast!
Walking out, I had to squeeze through the line of women who had commandeered the men’s bathroom.
About these women:
* Oh yeah… they were lesbians.
* I hadn’t seen so many lesbians since the last clearance sale at Old Navy.
* The place had more dikes that the Netherlands.
* They’d make the isle of Lesbos sink.
But I kid the politically marginalized.
When Vicky got out, I wanted to make sure she noticed. She had, adding, “And keep your voice down. I’ve seen plenty who could kick your ass.” Sure, that’s not saying much, but it would be embarrassing to explain on the nightly news.
At the ticket gate, they were checking people for cameras, which were verboten. Vicky hid her phone, because it had a camera and, once we took our seats, immediately started filming everything – not to post on the Internet(s), just to see if she could!
And speaking of our seats… the radio station sure did spring for seats… closest to the sun – we were pretty damned high up there! I won’t say we were sitting in the last row, because we were sitting in the second to the last row!
Now, I don’t know Melissa Etheridge’s music very well. Up until a few nights ago, I wasn’t aware that I’d heard some of her songs. I was just glad to see Vicky enjoying herself. As for me, while I found the music aesthetically pleasing it just didn’t speak to me. I couldn’t really relate.
Mind you, the woman has a voice of sandpaper. She’s not just the gay man’s Bonnie Raitt, she’s got a little of the gay man’s Bob Dylan or Bruce Springsteen (I still can’t decide) mixed in there. And then, there was the band. The drummer was up on a pedestal, the point of which was to keep him away from the other band. The drummer was in a permanent “time out”. The bassist looked like the lesbian love child of Stephen King and Bobby Brady… lesbian because I wasn’t sure if it was a guy or a girl… Then, the lead guitarist… this guy made sure to load up on espresso before starting. He was playing in his own, little world… freaky!
So, as I said, the music was good but I just couldn’t really relate – and that had nothing to do with the rows of lesbians dancing before us… better than I could! But there was one thing that I could relate to and helped me decide that I liked Melissa Etheridge very much. She was just so honest during her concert, and so open, I knew that I’d like her if I met her face to face. Even hundreds of yards away, she was obviously authentic.
Now to figure out what she was singing…
Recently, Vicky won another prize.
She called me and asked, “What are you doing Thursday night?”
I scanned my brain for my heavy social schedule… and didn’t find one. “Nothing.”
“Good!” she exclaimed. “Then, you can go to the Melissa Etheridge concert with me!”
… curses…
So, tonight, we drove up to the Greek Theater for the concert.
I guess it didn’t help that we quarreled almost the entire way up. I can’t understand why; it’s not as though there’s any stress in our lives…
But we got there with a hasty truce and, having parked a mile away, began the hike to the theater. Vicky saw a bathroom about halfway there and began pulling me in that direction. “We’re going to be late,” I cautioned here.
She had a panicked look. “That’s fine. This is important!”
So, to the bathroom we went. It was a small shack with men’s on one side and ladies’ on the other. So, I figured I might as well drain some fluids while I was there.
I didn’t think the bathroom would be too busy. I didn’t know much about Melissa Etheridge but I did know:
* She had a baby with David Crosby.
* She was a lesbian.
* This meant she hadn’t had sex with Crosby… thus increasing my respect for her.
Thus, I surmised that the male crowd wouldn’t be anywhere nearby. And I was right – the bathroom was empty! With three stalls total, and two of them broke, there was still no line! So, I went ahead… and went.
I wasn’t surprised when someone walked in but I was surprised to see it was a woman. You’ve never seen someone shut down the valve and zip up so fast!
Walking out, I had to squeeze through the line of women who had commandeered the men’s bathroom.
About these women:
* Oh yeah… they were lesbians.
* I hadn’t seen so many lesbians since the last clearance sale at Old Navy.
* The place had more dikes that the Netherlands.
* They’d make the isle of Lesbos sink.
But I kid the politically marginalized.
When Vicky got out, I wanted to make sure she noticed. She had, adding, “And keep your voice down. I’ve seen plenty who could kick your ass.” Sure, that’s not saying much, but it would be embarrassing to explain on the nightly news.
At the ticket gate, they were checking people for cameras, which were verboten. Vicky hid her phone, because it had a camera and, once we took our seats, immediately started filming everything – not to post on the Internet(s), just to see if she could!
And speaking of our seats… the radio station sure did spring for seats… closest to the sun – we were pretty damned high up there! I won’t say we were sitting in the last row, because we were sitting in the second to the last row!
Now, I don’t know Melissa Etheridge’s music very well. Up until a few nights ago, I wasn’t aware that I’d heard some of her songs. I was just glad to see Vicky enjoying herself. As for me, while I found the music aesthetically pleasing it just didn’t speak to me. I couldn’t really relate.
Mind you, the woman has a voice of sandpaper. She’s not just the gay man’s Bonnie Raitt, she’s got a little of the gay man’s Bob Dylan or Bruce Springsteen (I still can’t decide) mixed in there. And then, there was the band. The drummer was up on a pedestal, the point of which was to keep him away from the other band. The drummer was in a permanent “time out”. The bassist looked like the lesbian love child of Stephen King and Bobby Brady… lesbian because I wasn’t sure if it was a guy or a girl… Then, the lead guitarist… this guy made sure to load up on espresso before starting. He was playing in his own, little world… freaky!
So, as I said, the music was good but I just couldn’t really relate – and that had nothing to do with the rows of lesbians dancing before us… better than I could! But there was one thing that I could relate to and helped me decide that I liked Melissa Etheridge very much. She was just so honest during her concert, and so open, I knew that I’d like her if I met her face to face. Even hundreds of yards away, she was obviously authentic.
Now to figure out what she was singing…
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
New Jobs, No Jobs...
Vicky is particularly bad at the tooting of her own horn, so let me start off by doing that for her. She got a new job! Yeah! She'll be starting in a couple of weeks, making a bit more than she is now!
... and that's good, because we'll need it. Nope, no such luck for me. I'm still looking. (You can imagine how good I feel for her, though.)
Meanwhile, I found out I've been approved for unemployment benefits, which means I'll be getting about half of my previous salary. Things are looking up, but I wish they'd look up via gainful employment.
... and that's good, because we'll need it. Nope, no such luck for me. I'm still looking. (You can imagine how good I feel for her, though.)
Meanwhile, I found out I've been approved for unemployment benefits, which means I'll be getting about half of my previous salary. Things are looking up, but I wish they'd look up via gainful employment.
Monday, August 28, 2006
Maslow – Kundalini – Ken...
(Hey, I’ll write about the job search when I have good news, okay?!)
This weekend is when it hit me.
I was driving home from San Diego, where I’d spent a lot less time talking about success and failure than I wanted to but plenty of time thinking about it. I was on the freeway and – I reached for my phone and called Vicky.
“Do me a favor and write this down on a piece of paper so I won’t forget,” I told her. She wrote it down.
Kundalini.
Hierarchy of needs.
It was the answer.
I knew it was the answer EVEN THOUGH I had no idea what it meant.
But this is how it works with me – and I’ve learned to accept it. Things come the way they want to come and I’m no one to argue. I’ve long since accepted that I’m more a conduit than a writer.
The thing that hit me, the thing that was the answer… it was everything.
And I’ll tell you now. Oh, I’ll still write the book because, as with all stories, it’s only one small part.
What is success? Why do we fail to recognize success when it happens? I had found the answer to all of that, and more!
So, I suppose I should try to proceed more methodically so it makes some sense, shouldn’t I?
First, I suppose I should explain Kundalini… but, of course, I cannot do that with any real depth or skill…that’s why I’m writing a book and not just a blog entry. Suffice it to say, if you want to know more about Kundalini, there are better sources out there. But I’m still left with having to explain myself… so…
Kundalini is a form of yoga. The word is Sanskrit for “coiled up” and refers to centers in your body that uncoil from bottom to top and the higher up it uncoils, the closer to enlightenment you get. We, in our lives, work our way up these coils as we mature as human beings. Some do this through meditation and study, others aren’t even aware. But it’s a roadmap of sorts, pointing the way to enlightenment.
The Kundalini is divided into chakras. Each chakra illuminates where you are on the path to enlightenment or maturity. Some people would avoid using the word “maturity”; maybe “fulfillment” or “development” is better.
There are six chakras: Root, Sex, Naval, Heart, Throat, and Crown. The first three deal with achieving every day ends – obtaining food, procreation, having possessions. They are animal needs and, sadly, this is how most people busy themselves. Next, is the Heart chakra. This is the beginning of empathy for others. Throat and Crown move towards even higher goals, ending with enlightenment.
Now, I’ve studied Kundalini for years, reading books about it, hearing lectures about it, and it might be the background radiation in my mind that had led me to this new book. But what I didn’t realize is that it isn’t a strictly eastern phenomena, nor that it addresses the subject of success and failure so precisely.
There’s a western component to this, and I realized that it lies in Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. Maslow was a doctor in the 1950’s, and he theorized that people are motivated by an ascending scale of needs: Physical Survival, Safety, Belonging, Esteem (or, more importantly, Respect), and Actualization. Strangely enough, Maslow was showing the same kind of ascension that the Kundalini practitioners had known for hundreds of years. The scale rose from every day needs (survival and safety), to social needs (love and respect), to even higher goals.
They are both saying, essentially, the same thing in different ways.
This has everything to do with success and failure. It explains why I’ve been so sure that success holds a certain, ethereal component, that it’s not materialistic. Because, if you have food and shelter, even if you’ve found love… there’s something missing. It’s not an eastern or western thing; it transcends that.
That explains the sense of angst that I keep running into when I discuss the concept of success with people. Because, once they start thinking about it, they realize that there’s still something out there they’ve yet to achieve… they just can’t put a name on it.
Because, after all, who thinks about enlightenment these days??? How do you even know that's the next thing you need or want when you're bombarded every day with images and sounds telling you that you can get it at the mall or on Amazon?
The angst I feel about whether or not I’m a success is actually an essential drive, which is intimated in both systems. The key, I think, is perspective. What could essentially be a positive thing, personal evolution (if you will), is turned around (in my mind and that of many others) and we call it “failure”.
Clear as mud? Probably.
But, of course, this gets even more complicated when you start thinking about social evolution and where that is taking us… anyway, I big part of the puzzle was solved. Still have to write it, of course…
This weekend is when it hit me.
I was driving home from San Diego, where I’d spent a lot less time talking about success and failure than I wanted to but plenty of time thinking about it. I was on the freeway and – I reached for my phone and called Vicky.
“Do me a favor and write this down on a piece of paper so I won’t forget,” I told her. She wrote it down.
Kundalini.
Hierarchy of needs.
It was the answer.
I knew it was the answer EVEN THOUGH I had no idea what it meant.
But this is how it works with me – and I’ve learned to accept it. Things come the way they want to come and I’m no one to argue. I’ve long since accepted that I’m more a conduit than a writer.
The thing that hit me, the thing that was the answer… it was everything.
And I’ll tell you now. Oh, I’ll still write the book because, as with all stories, it’s only one small part.
What is success? Why do we fail to recognize success when it happens? I had found the answer to all of that, and more!
So, I suppose I should try to proceed more methodically so it makes some sense, shouldn’t I?
First, I suppose I should explain Kundalini… but, of course, I cannot do that with any real depth or skill…that’s why I’m writing a book and not just a blog entry. Suffice it to say, if you want to know more about Kundalini, there are better sources out there. But I’m still left with having to explain myself… so…
Kundalini is a form of yoga. The word is Sanskrit for “coiled up” and refers to centers in your body that uncoil from bottom to top and the higher up it uncoils, the closer to enlightenment you get. We, in our lives, work our way up these coils as we mature as human beings. Some do this through meditation and study, others aren’t even aware. But it’s a roadmap of sorts, pointing the way to enlightenment.
The Kundalini is divided into chakras. Each chakra illuminates where you are on the path to enlightenment or maturity. Some people would avoid using the word “maturity”; maybe “fulfillment” or “development” is better.
There are six chakras: Root, Sex, Naval, Heart, Throat, and Crown. The first three deal with achieving every day ends – obtaining food, procreation, having possessions. They are animal needs and, sadly, this is how most people busy themselves. Next, is the Heart chakra. This is the beginning of empathy for others. Throat and Crown move towards even higher goals, ending with enlightenment.
Now, I’ve studied Kundalini for years, reading books about it, hearing lectures about it, and it might be the background radiation in my mind that had led me to this new book. But what I didn’t realize is that it isn’t a strictly eastern phenomena, nor that it addresses the subject of success and failure so precisely.
There’s a western component to this, and I realized that it lies in Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. Maslow was a doctor in the 1950’s, and he theorized that people are motivated by an ascending scale of needs: Physical Survival, Safety, Belonging, Esteem (or, more importantly, Respect), and Actualization. Strangely enough, Maslow was showing the same kind of ascension that the Kundalini practitioners had known for hundreds of years. The scale rose from every day needs (survival and safety), to social needs (love and respect), to even higher goals.
They are both saying, essentially, the same thing in different ways.
This has everything to do with success and failure. It explains why I’ve been so sure that success holds a certain, ethereal component, that it’s not materialistic. Because, if you have food and shelter, even if you’ve found love… there’s something missing. It’s not an eastern or western thing; it transcends that.
That explains the sense of angst that I keep running into when I discuss the concept of success with people. Because, once they start thinking about it, they realize that there’s still something out there they’ve yet to achieve… they just can’t put a name on it.
Because, after all, who thinks about enlightenment these days??? How do you even know that's the next thing you need or want when you're bombarded every day with images and sounds telling you that you can get it at the mall or on Amazon?
The angst I feel about whether or not I’m a success is actually an essential drive, which is intimated in both systems. The key, I think, is perspective. What could essentially be a positive thing, personal evolution (if you will), is turned around (in my mind and that of many others) and we call it “failure”.
Clear as mud? Probably.
But, of course, this gets even more complicated when you start thinking about social evolution and where that is taking us… anyway, I big part of the puzzle was solved. Still have to write it, of course…
Sunday, August 27, 2006
And don't ever say I didn't give you anything...
Okay, granted, I'm currently hooked on WoW but there was once a time when the MechCommander games also had their hooks in me...
Well, it's time to hook up with those games again because they are FREE! (You know, as in FREE!)
Click the links and head on over for some old skool video game funnity!
(And, no, this isn't eye-patch-ware. MS released the code a while back and the software is safely in the pub-dom, so download with a clear conscience.)
Well, it's time to hook up with those games again because they are FREE! (You know, as in FREE!)
Click the links and head on over for some old skool video game funnity!
(And, no, this isn't eye-patch-ware. MS released the code a while back and the software is safely in the pub-dom, so download with a clear conscience.)
Friday, August 25, 2006
Second week progress…
None.
Absolutely nothing.
Is it any wonder I’m feeling a bit down?
I have an interview in a couple of hours. It’s a reach but I’m doing it because I’m desperate. The thing is, I applied for this job a month ago, which means there’s about a month turn-around between sending in a resume and getting an interview and considering that most of my applying has been in the last week… well, this could take a while.
And I don’t have a while. On Tuesday, I have a phone interview for unemployment insurance. If I get it, we will be fine for six months. The problem is, I might not. I don’t have a lot on my side.
In the event I don’t get it, I’m going to have to start applying for any job out there. Yep, we’re talking Target. We’re talking gas station, McDonalds – anything. All the time spent building my career as a writer will be shot to hell. It’s a depressing thought. No, that’s to upbeat of a term…
So, rather than sit at home thinking about that, I’m going to San Diego this weekend. I’m bringing Love of Your Life to work on the rewrites.
Let’s hope week three looks better…
Absolutely nothing.
Is it any wonder I’m feeling a bit down?
I have an interview in a couple of hours. It’s a reach but I’m doing it because I’m desperate. The thing is, I applied for this job a month ago, which means there’s about a month turn-around between sending in a resume and getting an interview and considering that most of my applying has been in the last week… well, this could take a while.
And I don’t have a while. On Tuesday, I have a phone interview for unemployment insurance. If I get it, we will be fine for six months. The problem is, I might not. I don’t have a lot on my side.
In the event I don’t get it, I’m going to have to start applying for any job out there. Yep, we’re talking Target. We’re talking gas station, McDonalds – anything. All the time spent building my career as a writer will be shot to hell. It’s a depressing thought. No, that’s to upbeat of a term…
So, rather than sit at home thinking about that, I’m going to San Diego this weekend. I’m bringing Love of Your Life to work on the rewrites.
Let’s hope week three looks better…
Thursday, August 24, 2006
The new book has begun...
There’s this painting of the Buddha. I've seen it a hundred times. In it, he’s holding a fiery sword over his head and he has the most horrific expression. It’s as though he’s ready to chop you in half and take a bite out of your spleen.
I was told once that this aspect of Buddha was meant to break through your ego, whenever your ego got in the way of your life. It’s supposed to be a frightening image, you see? It’s supposed to scare the sense into you. I could intellectualize the concept, particularly because it applies to kundalini yoga and afterlife exercises.
Well, I guess I didn’t realize how much of this was literally true here and now. I know I didn’t. The idea that my ego might be split open while I was still alive and using it didn't exactly appeal to me. And, in the summer of 2006, it wasn’t Buddha holding the blade; it was my own life.
What does this have to do with success or with Plato, for that matter? What can I tell you? It's a book! And it's going to take a few more months (or more) before I even know!
I was told once that this aspect of Buddha was meant to break through your ego, whenever your ego got in the way of your life. It’s supposed to be a frightening image, you see? It’s supposed to scare the sense into you. I could intellectualize the concept, particularly because it applies to kundalini yoga and afterlife exercises.
Well, I guess I didn’t realize how much of this was literally true here and now. I know I didn’t. The idea that my ego might be split open while I was still alive and using it didn't exactly appeal to me. And, in the summer of 2006, it wasn’t Buddha holding the blade; it was my own life.
What does this have to do with success or with Plato, for that matter? What can I tell you? It's a book! And it's going to take a few more months (or more) before I even know!
Will he get a cat?...
Turns out that the scientists of the world, a fickle lot to be sure, have demoted Pluto. It's no longer part of the solar system.
My only question is: What will Mickey do now?
My only question is: What will Mickey do now?
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
The book, the interview, the BLAHs…
I’m writing this rather late. If you knew what was going on inside my head right now, you’d understand that “rather late” is becoming the norm.
Any idea I had about keeping my life normal through all of this, of sticking with my same patterns when my main pattern of earning a living has gone so askew, was probably a bit naïve, but there you are.
Before I get into how things are going, let me address something about this book I want to write. I think it’s a misunderstanding I’ve fostered, unnecessarily. The book is intended to be a story about people who are trying to understand what success means to them, while their lives are taking decidedly unsuccessful turns. The story is “I want to achieve that but this is happening to me”, a road picture without an onramp.
I guess I’ve made it sound like some highfalutin book of answers but what is of primary interest to me, what has always been of interest, is the questions. Stories, after all, are questions. Anyone who sees a movie runs into this when they ask, “Why don’t they just…” and then realize that if they did – whatever – there’d be no story.
One thing that I’m sure of right now (which is to say I might not be quite so sure of it later) is that success is inadequately defined, and that’s why we have so many problems with it. I don’t believe that success can be measured in any materialistic way of thinking but, at the same time, I applaud anyone who can be satisfied by that.
So, that’s the book.
I went to a job interview today. It was… well, it wasn’t great. This company was hiring its first copywriter and didn’t quite know how to interview me. They weren’t quite sure what a writer does, except for write. They even gave me a math test to take! So, I gave them my best sales pitch and then they thought it would be fun to have me write something. They found someone who wasn’t doing anything and had me interview her.
So, I did.
She didn’t find it very comfortable. I kept seeing this “Why is this stranger asking me so many questions” look on her face.
But I pressed on.
“The nice thing about this company,” she told me, “is that it’s so big. And you don’t realize that.”
“What do you mean?” I asked her.
So, she told me about how she ran into someone she knew outside of work, someone employed there, when she went to a different department.
“How do you know her outside of work?”
“I know her daughter from school,” she answered.
That was odd. Did she go to school with the daughter? Did she have children who went to the school? I was missing the connection. So, I began asking her about the connection and she was very hesitant to tell me. After all, it was personal information. And we’d never met.
“The thing is, Jaclynn,” I said, “I mean, I know we’ve never met, but I’m wondering how you know her daughter and how you know her. You know?”
No, she didn’t.
“Well, do you have kids who go to school with her daughter? Or is the daughter a friend of yours?”
“No,” she exclaimed, as if I was dense. “I go to church there!”
… okay.
It turned out that the school was a private school at the church Jaclynn attended, but fishing out that material was somewhat akin to asking her how large her vibrator was.
Yeah, it was an interesting afternoon.
Maybe I was too abrupt. But then, things haven’t been easy and I feel like I’m wasting a lot of time, trying to find a job. This awful depression has settled over me like a storm and I’m getting tired of these low clouds. I feel like I’ve let Vicky down – I hate that. On top of that, I keep getting rejection letters from agents.
Is it any wonder I’m pondering the concept of success just now?
Any idea I had about keeping my life normal through all of this, of sticking with my same patterns when my main pattern of earning a living has gone so askew, was probably a bit naïve, but there you are.
Before I get into how things are going, let me address something about this book I want to write. I think it’s a misunderstanding I’ve fostered, unnecessarily. The book is intended to be a story about people who are trying to understand what success means to them, while their lives are taking decidedly unsuccessful turns. The story is “I want to achieve that but this is happening to me”, a road picture without an onramp.
I guess I’ve made it sound like some highfalutin book of answers but what is of primary interest to me, what has always been of interest, is the questions. Stories, after all, are questions. Anyone who sees a movie runs into this when they ask, “Why don’t they just…” and then realize that if they did – whatever – there’d be no story.
One thing that I’m sure of right now (which is to say I might not be quite so sure of it later) is that success is inadequately defined, and that’s why we have so many problems with it. I don’t believe that success can be measured in any materialistic way of thinking but, at the same time, I applaud anyone who can be satisfied by that.
So, that’s the book.
I went to a job interview today. It was… well, it wasn’t great. This company was hiring its first copywriter and didn’t quite know how to interview me. They weren’t quite sure what a writer does, except for write. They even gave me a math test to take! So, I gave them my best sales pitch and then they thought it would be fun to have me write something. They found someone who wasn’t doing anything and had me interview her.
So, I did.
She didn’t find it very comfortable. I kept seeing this “Why is this stranger asking me so many questions” look on her face.
But I pressed on.
“The nice thing about this company,” she told me, “is that it’s so big. And you don’t realize that.”
“What do you mean?” I asked her.
So, she told me about how she ran into someone she knew outside of work, someone employed there, when she went to a different department.
“How do you know her outside of work?”
“I know her daughter from school,” she answered.
That was odd. Did she go to school with the daughter? Did she have children who went to the school? I was missing the connection. So, I began asking her about the connection and she was very hesitant to tell me. After all, it was personal information. And we’d never met.
“The thing is, Jaclynn,” I said, “I mean, I know we’ve never met, but I’m wondering how you know her daughter and how you know her. You know?”
No, she didn’t.
“Well, do you have kids who go to school with her daughter? Or is the daughter a friend of yours?”
“No,” she exclaimed, as if I was dense. “I go to church there!”
… okay.
It turned out that the school was a private school at the church Jaclynn attended, but fishing out that material was somewhat akin to asking her how large her vibrator was.
Yeah, it was an interesting afternoon.
Maybe I was too abrupt. But then, things haven’t been easy and I feel like I’m wasting a lot of time, trying to find a job. This awful depression has settled over me like a storm and I’m getting tired of these low clouds. I feel like I’ve let Vicky down – I hate that. On top of that, I keep getting rejection letters from agents.
Is it any wonder I’m pondering the concept of success just now?
Monday, August 21, 2006
Forms… just lying under there…
As with most things, this book is coming at me in a very subconscious way. I’m a very subconscious person; I’m just open to that.
So, I’m driving down the street today and it hits me – another way in which this book is far bigger than I originally imagined. Why? Well, you see…
I’m driving along and I suddenly hear Vicky say, “You can’t define success any way you want. Everyone knows what success is.”
Did I mention she wasn’t in the car?
This sets off the spark.
Does everyone know what success is?
“Of course.” she says. “Think about the underlying forms.”
Underlying forms.
I suppose I should mention right now that this isn’t really the right term. I mean, it is but it isn’t…
Moving on - - -
When she said this, it brought to mind Plato’s theory of forms. The idea is that all chairs represent a single, perfect chair, or that all humans represent a perfect, ideal human. And it occurred to me that this was just so much hogwash.
Wait just a second, I thought… I’m calling Plato’s theories hogwash?
Yes, but they are!
I couldn’t argue them before. After all, the theory is pretty self-evident. Think about chairs. A chair with two legs is obviously inferior to one with three, which is also inferior to one with four. The movement towards a perfect chair is self-evident.
What makes it hogwash?
Back to the chair. Take a newborn baby. Put him in a chair or have him look at a chair. Will she know that the one with three legs is, in any way, inferior to that with four? Of course, not! The whole in Plato’s theory is that it is wholly subjective, requiring a posteriori information. In other words, you need information on which to base that judgement. For something to truly be an underlying form, it would have to a priori, recognizable without any previous information.
Now, to success: Can there be an ideal success? A success better than other successes? Of course, not! Trying to wedge that concept into an ideal state, forces you to realize how open for interpretation it is!
Where the term “underlying form” came from, I don’t know. Again… subconscious. But it applies swimmingly well to a concept so far beneath our daily reference that it escapes rational thought.
It was when I hit the term “rational” that my spine began to bristle.
I mean, I’ve already defined “success” as non-materialistic in nature. Now, I am broadening the definition to include irrational.
There was a lot more swimming through my head but, by the time I got home, this was all I had and, reading it now, I’d say it’s enough…
So, I’m driving down the street today and it hits me – another way in which this book is far bigger than I originally imagined. Why? Well, you see…
I’m driving along and I suddenly hear Vicky say, “You can’t define success any way you want. Everyone knows what success is.”
Did I mention she wasn’t in the car?
This sets off the spark.
Does everyone know what success is?
“Of course.” she says. “Think about the underlying forms.”
Underlying forms.
I suppose I should mention right now that this isn’t really the right term. I mean, it is but it isn’t…
Moving on - - -
When she said this, it brought to mind Plato’s theory of forms. The idea is that all chairs represent a single, perfect chair, or that all humans represent a perfect, ideal human. And it occurred to me that this was just so much hogwash.
Wait just a second, I thought… I’m calling Plato’s theories hogwash?
Yes, but they are!
I couldn’t argue them before. After all, the theory is pretty self-evident. Think about chairs. A chair with two legs is obviously inferior to one with three, which is also inferior to one with four. The movement towards a perfect chair is self-evident.
What makes it hogwash?
Back to the chair. Take a newborn baby. Put him in a chair or have him look at a chair. Will she know that the one with three legs is, in any way, inferior to that with four? Of course, not! The whole in Plato’s theory is that it is wholly subjective, requiring a posteriori information. In other words, you need information on which to base that judgement. For something to truly be an underlying form, it would have to a priori, recognizable without any previous information.
Now, to success: Can there be an ideal success? A success better than other successes? Of course, not! Trying to wedge that concept into an ideal state, forces you to realize how open for interpretation it is!
Where the term “underlying form” came from, I don’t know. Again… subconscious. But it applies swimmingly well to a concept so far beneath our daily reference that it escapes rational thought.
It was when I hit the term “rational” that my spine began to bristle.
I mean, I’ve already defined “success” as non-materialistic in nature. Now, I am broadening the definition to include irrational.
There was a lot more swimming through my head but, by the time I got home, this was all I had and, reading it now, I’d say it’s enough…
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Saturday, August 19, 2006
A thought about Vicky...
(You may need to pardon the spelling in this entry... I'm still drunk...)
Sometimes I think that being married to an artist is more than Vicky signed on for...
So, I'm starting work on this new book, and one thing that's happening is that it's possessing my mind like crazy. I would use the word "occupying" but "possessing" is probably more appropriate.
Jeff came by tonight and we all sat around and talked. I started drinking, something I haven't really done since I lost my job. One thing that happens when I drink is that I start talking. Since my mind is so preoccupied with this new book, everything I see or hear or think about has this direct relation with the new book.
And so, I talk about it. And on. And on.
For Vicky, it must get tiring.
But, for me, it's the way my mind makes the connections between what is in the real world and what is in the book.
Here's what's in it right now: Buddha, before enlightenment. Think about that for just one second. Jesus was the son of God. Mohammed was divinely inspired. Buddha, on the other hand, was just this guy who figured things out. Before he did that... well, things had to be kind of frustrating.
The book is about this longing for accomplishment. And I can't help but feel that Buddha must have felt that - before he reached enlightenment.
I'm not saying I'm anywhere near close - in fact, I'm not. But I can feel a connection with the sublime one before he reached that point... and I keep thinking about it. And, as I drank tonight, it pounded at my head... and I kept talking.
Mind you, as I got really drunk, it was kind of a gobbledy-gook...
And that brings me back to Vicky. What a chore she must have. Being married to me must be... irritating. One minute, I'm talking about multi-dimensional physics... and I write a book about it. Then, I'm talking about the epiphany that comes with suicide... and I write a book about going to the Grand Canyon. Now, I'm stuck in what I can only call the philosophy of accomplishment, or the lack of it, or "middle-aged angst"... and this leads me to my new book.
And Vicky has to keep in mind that, normally, I'm an okay guy. I'm just stuck in this new book.
She's really pretty incredible. She encourages me and cheers me on - and she's probably wondering where the hell I am.
I am an incredibly lucky man.
Thanks, Vic. This drunken slob - this out of work, drunken cacophany of a human - really loves you.
Sometimes I think that being married to an artist is more than Vicky signed on for...
So, I'm starting work on this new book, and one thing that's happening is that it's possessing my mind like crazy. I would use the word "occupying" but "possessing" is probably more appropriate.
Jeff came by tonight and we all sat around and talked. I started drinking, something I haven't really done since I lost my job. One thing that happens when I drink is that I start talking. Since my mind is so preoccupied with this new book, everything I see or hear or think about has this direct relation with the new book.
And so, I talk about it. And on. And on.
For Vicky, it must get tiring.
But, for me, it's the way my mind makes the connections between what is in the real world and what is in the book.
Here's what's in it right now: Buddha, before enlightenment. Think about that for just one second. Jesus was the son of God. Mohammed was divinely inspired. Buddha, on the other hand, was just this guy who figured things out. Before he did that... well, things had to be kind of frustrating.
The book is about this longing for accomplishment. And I can't help but feel that Buddha must have felt that - before he reached enlightenment.
I'm not saying I'm anywhere near close - in fact, I'm not. But I can feel a connection with the sublime one before he reached that point... and I keep thinking about it. And, as I drank tonight, it pounded at my head... and I kept talking.
Mind you, as I got really drunk, it was kind of a gobbledy-gook...
And that brings me back to Vicky. What a chore she must have. Being married to me must be... irritating. One minute, I'm talking about multi-dimensional physics... and I write a book about it. Then, I'm talking about the epiphany that comes with suicide... and I write a book about going to the Grand Canyon. Now, I'm stuck in what I can only call the philosophy of accomplishment, or the lack of it, or "middle-aged angst"... and this leads me to my new book.
And Vicky has to keep in mind that, normally, I'm an okay guy. I'm just stuck in this new book.
She's really pretty incredible. She encourages me and cheers me on - and she's probably wondering where the hell I am.
I am an incredibly lucky man.
Thanks, Vic. This drunken slob - this out of work, drunken cacophany of a human - really loves you.
Friday, August 18, 2006
One week…
(No Barenaked Ladies references! No Barenaked Ladies references!)
In about an hour, it will have been one week since I lost my job. And what a hell of a week it’s been.
I’ve been to a couple of job interviews… they haven’t gone that well…
I’ve started one book – stopped – and started another.
I haven’t been sleeping too well.
And, oddly enough, through all of this, I’m feeling okay with things – not great, but okay. I know that I’m incredibly lucky and feel fortunate to have a wife who loves me so much and is so supportive.
I’m not down, yet. And that’s what counts.
Let’s just hope this doesn’t turn into one of those things where I find out just what it takes to get me there.
In about an hour, it will have been one week since I lost my job. And what a hell of a week it’s been.
I’ve been to a couple of job interviews… they haven’t gone that well…
I’ve started one book – stopped – and started another.
I haven’t been sleeping too well.
And, oddly enough, through all of this, I’m feeling okay with things – not great, but okay. I know that I’m incredibly lucky and feel fortunate to have a wife who loves me so much and is so supportive.
I’m not down, yet. And that’s what counts.
Let’s just hope this doesn’t turn into one of those things where I find out just what it takes to get me there.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
So, just what was I talking about?…
I sat down with Vicky last night. As my co-pilot on this lifetime excursion, I figured she should have a say in things, too.
I said, “I could write a book that would sell or I could write this other thing.”
And then, I told her what the “other thing” was, and we talked it over quite a bit. Then, I took a notepad and a vodka and soda out on the patio and started taking notes…
How can you find inner peace, thinking you’re a failure?
Your life belongs to you – the outcome is your fault. (Basic existentialism)
Why do we fail to recognize our accomplishments when they happen?
It’s not about how the world sees you, or the expectations the world has placed upon you. It’s about how you see yourself and expectations you have placed upon yourself.
Something ineffable defines success. What is it?
Defining ourselves by our place in the world is inherently dissatisfying. (Thus the failure of materialism.)
We have a point inside of us that defines success. It is inside. It is not a part of the world.
What did the Buddha say about enlightenment? Once you’re enlightened, you realize that time is meaningless and that you’ve always been, albeit unknowingly, enlightened, striving towards enlightenment. If this is true, isn’t success a similar state? Have I always been successful but not seen it? Is that “too easy” an answer?
Those who do not live an authentic life cannot see this.
If every rock will one day be a person, and every tree – if enlightenment is sacred and the movement towards enlightenment is sacred, then every life is sacred. Every potentiality is sacred. Isn’t this angst, this drive, this striving for success also sacred?
Angst is sacred. Acceptance and peace are sacred. If a=c and b=c, then a=b… They are the same.
Actually, I wrote a whole lot more than this. This is just a summary. But I began to see that I was on to something much bigger than I had imagined, some amalgamation of existential and Buddhist thinking. But to claim that satisfaction and dissatisfaction were equal (i.e. 1 = -1) was obviously veering off the path somewhat.
That said, I think it’s safe to say I have my next book.
Which is good.
Because Vicky thinks I should write it, too.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Writing… old skool…
This is how it used to be. I’d start a book, get bored with it, start another, get bored with it, start another, get… well, you see the pattern, don’t you?
That’s the way I used to work. And it didn’t really pay off in the end, which is to say it didn’t result in too many finished novels. (Seven novels finished in 16 years = over two years per novel.)
After Vicky came along, that changed greatly. I’ve finished five novels in the last year and a half. (Five novels in 18 months = over three months per novel… wow!)
I knew that had to end sometime.
Um, it did.
See, here’s the thing. I don’t know how many of you heard about this (I don’t think I posted it) but the idea for the next book was something I was calling “My Side – The Movie”… no, not as the real title, just the concept. The idea was what if someone made a movie about a very personal blog, forcing the blogger to relive all of the events. I thought it would make a good, and possibly funny, idea.
But then, there were so many questions I had to resolve. Writing books is a lot about resolving issues and many of those issues have to be worked out in your head before you being writing.
And I wanted to write… NOW!… Right now! (You know, because I have the time!)
So, waiting was out of the question.
I sat down and asked myself, “Ken, what do you want to write more than anything else?” The answer came quickly, if disappointingly: A Philosophical Novel. If you know me, you know that philosophy is an important component in my life. It’s something I can do.
My first philosophical novel, Revelations, helped me resolve the apparent disparity between Christianity and Christians, the religion that teaches love and tolerance and the masses of people who profess to believe those teaching who are so filled with hate. My second philosophical novel, Vampire Society, helped me deal with the problems of materialism and how it is used to replace what we need, rather than fulfill our needs. I wanted to do that again, to say something meaningful, to address some fundamental issue in my life and so many others…
But it’s not marketable.
So, I began writing a new horror novel.
And it was pretty good. In fact, I realized this morning that it was a lot like many other horror novels/stories/movies I’ve read/heard/seen…
And that killed it.
Yes, I can write a horror novel just like many others – and it will be just as marketable as many others – but is that what I really want to do? Write like other people?
It killed it.
Because I realized that, more than anything, I want to write what’s important to my heart. I believe writing can make a difference, stories can make a difference, and I want to do that.
I started thinking about all the things I haven’t accomplished in my life and how, being out of work, I find myself back on square one. This gap, this unnamable something, burned away inside of me. What does it mean to accomplish something? What is the driving force that compels us away from peace and acceptance in the hope of attaining… what?
So, I put the horror novel away.
I haven’t started the next thing.
Or have I?
I need to reconcile myself. I need to find out where I am.
… Many of us feel this terrible regret at having reached a certain age (in my case, middle age) with nothing to show for it. Some of us ignore it and accept our lot. What do they know? What do they not know?
Maybe I have started something.
I’ll keep you posted.
That’s the way I used to work. And it didn’t really pay off in the end, which is to say it didn’t result in too many finished novels. (Seven novels finished in 16 years = over two years per novel.)
After Vicky came along, that changed greatly. I’ve finished five novels in the last year and a half. (Five novels in 18 months = over three months per novel… wow!)
I knew that had to end sometime.
Um, it did.
See, here’s the thing. I don’t know how many of you heard about this (I don’t think I posted it) but the idea for the next book was something I was calling “My Side – The Movie”… no, not as the real title, just the concept. The idea was what if someone made a movie about a very personal blog, forcing the blogger to relive all of the events. I thought it would make a good, and possibly funny, idea.
But then, there were so many questions I had to resolve. Writing books is a lot about resolving issues and many of those issues have to be worked out in your head before you being writing.
And I wanted to write… NOW!… Right now! (You know, because I have the time!)
So, waiting was out of the question.
I sat down and asked myself, “Ken, what do you want to write more than anything else?” The answer came quickly, if disappointingly: A Philosophical Novel. If you know me, you know that philosophy is an important component in my life. It’s something I can do.
My first philosophical novel, Revelations, helped me resolve the apparent disparity between Christianity and Christians, the religion that teaches love and tolerance and the masses of people who profess to believe those teaching who are so filled with hate. My second philosophical novel, Vampire Society, helped me deal with the problems of materialism and how it is used to replace what we need, rather than fulfill our needs. I wanted to do that again, to say something meaningful, to address some fundamental issue in my life and so many others…
But it’s not marketable.
So, I began writing a new horror novel.
And it was pretty good. In fact, I realized this morning that it was a lot like many other horror novels/stories/movies I’ve read/heard/seen…
And that killed it.
Yes, I can write a horror novel just like many others – and it will be just as marketable as many others – but is that what I really want to do? Write like other people?
It killed it.
Because I realized that, more than anything, I want to write what’s important to my heart. I believe writing can make a difference, stories can make a difference, and I want to do that.
I started thinking about all the things I haven’t accomplished in my life and how, being out of work, I find myself back on square one. This gap, this unnamable something, burned away inside of me. What does it mean to accomplish something? What is the driving force that compels us away from peace and acceptance in the hope of attaining… what?
So, I put the horror novel away.
I haven’t started the next thing.
Or have I?
I need to reconcile myself. I need to find out where I am.
… Many of us feel this terrible regret at having reached a certain age (in my case, middle age) with nothing to show for it. Some of us ignore it and accept our lot. What do they know? What do they not know?
Maybe I have started something.
I’ll keep you posted.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Is it art?
I found this while surfing the great web wave and found it intriguing
Me: Girl Takes Picture of Herself...
Let me know if you see the blonde wig and sunglasses around 1 1/2 minutes.
Me: Girl Takes Picture of Herself...
Let me know if you see the blonde wig and sunglasses around 1 1/2 minutes.
Monday, August 14, 2006
My first day jobless…
It’s been a busier day than I thought it would be… and that’s a good thing!
One of the worst things about this weekend was the fact that I could do so little. I revised my resume (creating one for marketing writing and one for technical writing), drafted corresponding cover letters, and applied, well, EVERYWHERE! But, after that, it was a lot of waiting.
Last night, I hardly slept.
Vicky was swell. She has a lot of faith in me and is sure things will be fine. We talked about the difference between theory and application. In school, I excelled in theoretical fields (such as philosophy), whereas Vicky was better with application (lab classes, etc.). So, I told her how I have been meditating hard on Buddhist teachings after losing my job but can’t seem to find the inner peace it should provide. Vicky, not aware of the theory behind the Buddhist teachings has, meanwhile, found that peace without even thinking about it. (Again, is it any wonder why I love her?)
After spending most of the weekend applying to every job online, I had very little I could do this morning as far as job searching. I worked on some of the rewrites for the new book but, by and large, I was BORED.
I went to Sean’s and we went out for a cheap breakfast… BORING!
Thankfully, the calls started pouring in once I got home. By the end of the day, I had three interviews lined up: one next week, one on Thursday and one tomorrow! That helped put my mind a bit more at ease.
Mind you, I’m still out of work but things are looking a bit brighter… if just a bit.
One of the worst things about this weekend was the fact that I could do so little. I revised my resume (creating one for marketing writing and one for technical writing), drafted corresponding cover letters, and applied, well, EVERYWHERE! But, after that, it was a lot of waiting.
Last night, I hardly slept.
Vicky was swell. She has a lot of faith in me and is sure things will be fine. We talked about the difference between theory and application. In school, I excelled in theoretical fields (such as philosophy), whereas Vicky was better with application (lab classes, etc.). So, I told her how I have been meditating hard on Buddhist teachings after losing my job but can’t seem to find the inner peace it should provide. Vicky, not aware of the theory behind the Buddhist teachings has, meanwhile, found that peace without even thinking about it. (Again, is it any wonder why I love her?)
After spending most of the weekend applying to every job online, I had very little I could do this morning as far as job searching. I worked on some of the rewrites for the new book but, by and large, I was BORED.
I went to Sean’s and we went out for a cheap breakfast… BORING!
Thankfully, the calls started pouring in once I got home. By the end of the day, I had three interviews lined up: one next week, one on Thursday and one tomorrow! That helped put my mind a bit more at ease.
Mind you, I’m still out of work but things are looking a bit brighter… if just a bit.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Smoking out, Freaking out, and Pigging out…
Last night, I went over to hang out with Sean… and get all neurotic about losing my job. A true friend – and enabler – Sean picked me up a pack of smokes. He figured that I could use them, considering the situation I find myself in.
For the past day, I’ve been doing nothing but worrying. We could lose the house. We could lose everything – if I don’t find a job! Vicky, meanwhile, has been wonderful and far more supportive than I rightly deserve. Thank you, Vic!
So, we headed back to Sean’s today for a barbeque he threw and, on the way, Vicky pretty much broke. In no uncertain terms, she told me to stop freaking out! Now, I’d left the cigarettes at Sean’s so, when we got there, I grabbed one and lit up (far away from Vicky, of course), which calmed me down enough to stop bitching and moaning about things. And then, we commenced with the eating. Sean lives for these things; he loves throwing shindigs on the grill… along with some burgers and dogs. God only knew where my next meal was coming from, so I figured I should eat…
I realized that one of my problems is that, beyond being an habitual worrier, I’m the kind of guy who needs to have a purpose. Without a job, I’m corked champagne, filled with bubbles of neurosis. Maybe I should start on a new book… maybe I should work harder on selling what I got… ugh!…
After I’d totally stuffed myself, he suggested we play some catch. Sean is also a sadist… the bastard.
And so, I’m dealing… and that’s day one…
For the past day, I’ve been doing nothing but worrying. We could lose the house. We could lose everything – if I don’t find a job! Vicky, meanwhile, has been wonderful and far more supportive than I rightly deserve. Thank you, Vic!
So, we headed back to Sean’s today for a barbeque he threw and, on the way, Vicky pretty much broke. In no uncertain terms, she told me to stop freaking out! Now, I’d left the cigarettes at Sean’s so, when we got there, I grabbed one and lit up (far away from Vicky, of course), which calmed me down enough to stop bitching and moaning about things. And then, we commenced with the eating. Sean lives for these things; he loves throwing shindigs on the grill… along with some burgers and dogs. God only knew where my next meal was coming from, so I figured I should eat…
I realized that one of my problems is that, beyond being an habitual worrier, I’m the kind of guy who needs to have a purpose. Without a job, I’m corked champagne, filled with bubbles of neurosis. Maybe I should start on a new book… maybe I should work harder on selling what I got… ugh!…
After I’d totally stuffed myself, he suggested we play some catch. Sean is also a sadist… the bastard.
And so, I’m dealing… and that’s day one…
Stuff I forgot…
After I wrote yesterday’s blog, I realized that I’d actually left some things out!
So, here’s just one to belabor the point.
A few weeks ago, Tim called all of us into a meeting. Considering that we were all salaried, the content of the meeting was rather surprising. “You work from either 7:30-4:30 or 8:00 – 5:00 every day. You take lunch from 12:00 – 1:00. And you get two, 15 minute breaks, one from 9:45 – 10:00 and another from 3:00 – 3:15. No exceptions.”
I might have mentioned that there were originally four people in the department. One of them, our web guy, recently became a father of his first child, and scheduling was never exactly accurate. Coming in at exactly 8:00am was nearly impossible for him. Before, you see, he could have just worked later to make up the time – but not so now. So, Tim would call him into his office every day and they’d yell back and forth.
He quit just over a week later. And he grew so tired of Tim’s bullshit that he left before his two weeks were up… actually two days later.
I’m surprised I forgot this story because it makes an important point: that it wasn’t just me. And I don’t want to forget that as I start blaming myself.
Tim was a complete ass who thought very highly of himself. He was a member of the beer of the month club and, every month, he would be mailed a 12-pack of beer to work. Why to work? Anyway, as a show of what a swell guy he was, he’d give us ONE beer every month. Gee, what a swell guy.
After a few months, I couldn’t take it. With the shit he was giving me, I hated this pretend show of friendship. So, I simply stored them in my desk as I looked for another job.
So, I can imagine him emptying my desk yesterday, finding a six-pack of beer! (Mmmmm…. Warm, old beer….)
Last night, I had a hell of a time getting to sleep. One scene kept playing through my head. Tim came to my desk and said, “Ken, will you come with me?” I knew immediately what was happening; I was going to be written up – the first step towards them firing me. They’d never written me up. In fact, only two months ago, I received a very good review. Tim and I walked to Janet’s office. Janet was the HR lady. Tim pointed out a chair for me to sit in and I sat down. Tim sat beside me. Janet sat across from us. She hadn’t said anything. Then, Tim said, “We’re letting you go for poor performance. Janet’s got your packet.” Janet picked up an envelope. “This has your check and everything about COBRA and Unemployment Insurance.” She handed me the envelope. “We want you out right away,” Tim said.
I looked at them both. “Don’t I even get a box to put my stuff in?”
The whole meeting took less than five minutes. No questions. No explanations.
Over and over, it repeated in my mind. I actually had to sit up and meditate on the OM to quiet myself enough to sleep. I think that’s probably going to be the case for a while.
So, here’s just one to belabor the point.
A few weeks ago, Tim called all of us into a meeting. Considering that we were all salaried, the content of the meeting was rather surprising. “You work from either 7:30-4:30 or 8:00 – 5:00 every day. You take lunch from 12:00 – 1:00. And you get two, 15 minute breaks, one from 9:45 – 10:00 and another from 3:00 – 3:15. No exceptions.”
I might have mentioned that there were originally four people in the department. One of them, our web guy, recently became a father of his first child, and scheduling was never exactly accurate. Coming in at exactly 8:00am was nearly impossible for him. Before, you see, he could have just worked later to make up the time – but not so now. So, Tim would call him into his office every day and they’d yell back and forth.
He quit just over a week later. And he grew so tired of Tim’s bullshit that he left before his two weeks were up… actually two days later.
I’m surprised I forgot this story because it makes an important point: that it wasn’t just me. And I don’t want to forget that as I start blaming myself.
Tim was a complete ass who thought very highly of himself. He was a member of the beer of the month club and, every month, he would be mailed a 12-pack of beer to work. Why to work? Anyway, as a show of what a swell guy he was, he’d give us ONE beer every month. Gee, what a swell guy.
After a few months, I couldn’t take it. With the shit he was giving me, I hated this pretend show of friendship. So, I simply stored them in my desk as I looked for another job.
So, I can imagine him emptying my desk yesterday, finding a six-pack of beer! (Mmmmm…. Warm, old beer….)
Last night, I had a hell of a time getting to sleep. One scene kept playing through my head. Tim came to my desk and said, “Ken, will you come with me?” I knew immediately what was happening; I was going to be written up – the first step towards them firing me. They’d never written me up. In fact, only two months ago, I received a very good review. Tim and I walked to Janet’s office. Janet was the HR lady. Tim pointed out a chair for me to sit in and I sat down. Tim sat beside me. Janet sat across from us. She hadn’t said anything. Then, Tim said, “We’re letting you go for poor performance. Janet’s got your packet.” Janet picked up an envelope. “This has your check and everything about COBRA and Unemployment Insurance.” She handed me the envelope. “We want you out right away,” Tim said.
I looked at them both. “Don’t I even get a box to put my stuff in?”
The whole meeting took less than five minutes. No questions. No explanations.
Over and over, it repeated in my mind. I actually had to sit up and meditate on the OM to quiet myself enough to sleep. I think that’s probably going to be the case for a while.
Friday, August 11, 2006
This is how it begins…
Back in March, after Vicky and I came back from Hawaii, my boss, Tim, told me that I took an extra day off… but I hadn’t.
This was when things started to go downhill… and they ended up where they are now – at the bottom of a ravine. Broken. Smashed.
When I received my review in June, it was filled with high praise. Great. And a raise. Great great. Okay. Me likey! But there was an undercurrent of warning. You see, Tim was a massive control freak. I knew that. But there was more. I learned that this week.
So, he told me I should do things more his way and that I should kiss up more. Okay, okay. Fine. After all, I had my raise, right?
But then, I didn’t kiss up enough.
And this new guy, we’ll call him “Carl”… his real name was Carl… when he started, I didn’t kiss up enough. He had the owner’s ear and said he wanted his own writer. The way it was explained to me, this meant I was O-U-T.
But wait? Why? What about that great review?
Sorry.
And then, things got worse. When I’d started, I was told that it was a low-pressure environment and that people wouldn’t be on my back.
Not quite.
At the start of July, I was told to stop using the company phone and (shortly thereafter) to stop using my phone, too. Now, I received a couple of calls per day from Vicky (each lasting about five minutes) but, honestly, that’s far from excessive. Then, I was told that I couldn’t use the Internet – HELLO! I’M A WRITER! I NEED TO DO RESEARCH.
Sorry.
Then, I was told I had to be able to report where any of my work was at any time.
Then, they increased my workload to where I was working on 20 projects at a time.
Then, they increased my workload to where I was working on 30 projects at a time.
Then, they increased my workload to where I was working on 40 projects at a time. Each project was stacked individually in my cube. I’d be tested daily as to the status of each project. I was quizzed on terminology and, without being able to do any research, grilled when I came up short.
On Tuesday, I heard they were interviewing a couple of people for the writer position.
Today, I was fired.
I needed to write all of this down because now, only a couple of hours later, I’m already starting to blame myself. But I know it wasn’t entirely my fault. Could I have kissed ass better? Probably. But I don’t think I want a job that I couldn’t keep because I didn’t go in deep enough, anyway.
So, that’s where I am. My job now is to find another job. And I plan to do that job damned well!
This was when things started to go downhill… and they ended up where they are now – at the bottom of a ravine. Broken. Smashed.
When I received my review in June, it was filled with high praise. Great. And a raise. Great great. Okay. Me likey! But there was an undercurrent of warning. You see, Tim was a massive control freak. I knew that. But there was more. I learned that this week.
So, he told me I should do things more his way and that I should kiss up more. Okay, okay. Fine. After all, I had my raise, right?
But then, I didn’t kiss up enough.
And this new guy, we’ll call him “Carl”… his real name was Carl… when he started, I didn’t kiss up enough. He had the owner’s ear and said he wanted his own writer. The way it was explained to me, this meant I was O-U-T.
But wait? Why? What about that great review?
Sorry.
And then, things got worse. When I’d started, I was told that it was a low-pressure environment and that people wouldn’t be on my back.
Not quite.
At the start of July, I was told to stop using the company phone and (shortly thereafter) to stop using my phone, too. Now, I received a couple of calls per day from Vicky (each lasting about five minutes) but, honestly, that’s far from excessive. Then, I was told that I couldn’t use the Internet – HELLO! I’M A WRITER! I NEED TO DO RESEARCH.
Sorry.
Then, I was told I had to be able to report where any of my work was at any time.
Then, they increased my workload to where I was working on 20 projects at a time.
Then, they increased my workload to where I was working on 30 projects at a time.
Then, they increased my workload to where I was working on 40 projects at a time. Each project was stacked individually in my cube. I’d be tested daily as to the status of each project. I was quizzed on terminology and, without being able to do any research, grilled when I came up short.
On Tuesday, I heard they were interviewing a couple of people for the writer position.
Today, I was fired.
I needed to write all of this down because now, only a couple of hours later, I’m already starting to blame myself. But I know it wasn’t entirely my fault. Could I have kissed ass better? Probably. But I don’t think I want a job that I couldn’t keep because I didn’t go in deep enough, anyway.
So, that’s where I am. My job now is to find another job. And I plan to do that job damned well!
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Love of Your Life...
I've just finished the first draft of Love of Your Life.
I'm all misty-eyed. There's no greater mix of sadness and relief and joy than when I finish a novel.
And that makes an even dozen. Wow.
Time to start on those rewrites...
I'm all misty-eyed. There's no greater mix of sadness and relief and joy than when I finish a novel.
And that makes an even dozen. Wow.
Time to start on those rewrites...
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Every day I write the book…
It’s been a while since I checked in last. I guess I should let you know that I’ll be finishing Love of Your Life any day now.
It looks like I won’t be going to any auditions because conditions at my place of employment have worsened and they’re messing with my schedule at will. Screwy schedules don’t work when you’re in theater and that means another postponement in my returning to the stage.
Meanwhile, the writing continues.
As I near the end of Love, my subconscious is already working on an idea for the next book. If you can imagine an old-style telephone in a lightening storm, with the world coming to a violent end every now and then… well, it’s sort of like that. And, every time around, the idea is refined more and more.
It started like this:
A Wizard in Los Angeles
This was an idea about a guy who loses his wife, his job, and his home. He ends up homeless, on the street, and without hope until he meets a bum he mistakes as some kind of wizard. He thinks the bum can work some kind of magic to return him to –
CRASH!
It was like seeing a hammer come through a closed window – the idea was gone.
Anyway, I didn’t want to write another love story. What’s the point of it, anyway? It’s just one after another – nothing special.
And then:
MY SIDE: The Movie!
This idea was about a guy who wrote a blog during the breakup of his marriage (very much like my old blog). Years later, after he’s married and happy again, or so he thinks, he is approached by a producer who wants to make the experiences in his blog into a movie. This stirs up old memories that –
CRASH!
Shattered. And good riddance. Hey, it might sound like a great idea but I’ve been down that road before, you know? I mean, I wrote the blog!
So, where was my mind taking me? What was it trying to say? And, if it couldn’t get its message straight, could it at least allow me to write a nice, gory, horror story?
But then, I had this dream last night. Dreams are very powerful sometimes and this was no different. It was simple. I was standing in my bedroom when, I opened the door – and I suddenly stood in Rosa’s house. There, she sat, watching television. She didn’t notice me. I don’t remember if the dream was lucid or just seemed so but I remember hoping she wouldn’t notice as I sat down across from her. And I just shared her space.
That was it.
So, I spent today pondering that. What was it trying to tell me?
Even as I thought about it, as I tried to find some other answer – I knew I had the answer already. I just hated what it was.
And I knew I couldn’t write what wanted to be written. I love Vicky very much and I don’t want to hurt her, even with an idea.
Here’s the idea, and why I don’t think I should go down this road: We never really get over anyone. We may think we do. In reality, though, what we do is come to our senses and realize that we need to find a relationship that’s more healthy – more healthy than thinking about the person we lost.
I don’t know. Maybe there’s nothing wrong with that. But it seems to me to be a bit too much like enjoying cake you get to keep…
Maybe I’ll just stick to my video games…
It looks like I won’t be going to any auditions because conditions at my place of employment have worsened and they’re messing with my schedule at will. Screwy schedules don’t work when you’re in theater and that means another postponement in my returning to the stage.
Meanwhile, the writing continues.
As I near the end of Love, my subconscious is already working on an idea for the next book. If you can imagine an old-style telephone in a lightening storm, with the world coming to a violent end every now and then… well, it’s sort of like that. And, every time around, the idea is refined more and more.
It started like this:
A Wizard in Los Angeles
This was an idea about a guy who loses his wife, his job, and his home. He ends up homeless, on the street, and without hope until he meets a bum he mistakes as some kind of wizard. He thinks the bum can work some kind of magic to return him to –
CRASH!
It was like seeing a hammer come through a closed window – the idea was gone.
Anyway, I didn’t want to write another love story. What’s the point of it, anyway? It’s just one after another – nothing special.
And then:
MY SIDE: The Movie!
This idea was about a guy who wrote a blog during the breakup of his marriage (very much like my old blog). Years later, after he’s married and happy again, or so he thinks, he is approached by a producer who wants to make the experiences in his blog into a movie. This stirs up old memories that –
CRASH!
Shattered. And good riddance. Hey, it might sound like a great idea but I’ve been down that road before, you know? I mean, I wrote the blog!
So, where was my mind taking me? What was it trying to say? And, if it couldn’t get its message straight, could it at least allow me to write a nice, gory, horror story?
But then, I had this dream last night. Dreams are very powerful sometimes and this was no different. It was simple. I was standing in my bedroom when, I opened the door – and I suddenly stood in Rosa’s house. There, she sat, watching television. She didn’t notice me. I don’t remember if the dream was lucid or just seemed so but I remember hoping she wouldn’t notice as I sat down across from her. And I just shared her space.
That was it.
So, I spent today pondering that. What was it trying to tell me?
Even as I thought about it, as I tried to find some other answer – I knew I had the answer already. I just hated what it was.
And I knew I couldn’t write what wanted to be written. I love Vicky very much and I don’t want to hurt her, even with an idea.
Here’s the idea, and why I don’t think I should go down this road: We never really get over anyone. We may think we do. In reality, though, what we do is come to our senses and realize that we need to find a relationship that’s more healthy – more healthy than thinking about the person we lost.
I don’t know. Maybe there’s nothing wrong with that. But it seems to me to be a bit too much like enjoying cake you get to keep…
Maybe I’ll just stick to my video games…
Monday, August 07, 2006
When good news isn’t…
Okay. So, it’s been a while. I’ve been busy, busy, and…. oh, yeah – busy.
But this story popped up about a week ago and it was almost enough to make me lose my lunch… then, I remembered it was in my lunchbox, so…
But for Pat Robertson to “believe in” global warming, well, that’s about enough to make me buy an SUV! I mean, the minute he says he believes something the credibility is severely shot to hell!
He’s got millions of certifiably insane people following him. Do we sensible, rational folk want to be on the same side as the crazy people??? Do we?
Of course, this is probably just a way for him to get 700 Club viewers to donate to save pasty, white evangelicals from not having enough ice in their lemonade. I'm sure once winter comes around, he'll declare that God has told him that it will now be cooler...
But this story popped up about a week ago and it was almost enough to make me lose my lunch… then, I remembered it was in my lunchbox, so…
But for Pat Robertson to “believe in” global warming, well, that’s about enough to make me buy an SUV! I mean, the minute he says he believes something the credibility is severely shot to hell!
He’s got millions of certifiably insane people following him. Do we sensible, rational folk want to be on the same side as the crazy people??? Do we?
Of course, this is probably just a way for him to get 700 Club viewers to donate to save pasty, white evangelicals from not having enough ice in their lemonade. I'm sure once winter comes around, he'll declare that God has told him that it will now be cooler...
Sunday, August 06, 2006
A superhero for 2006...
It's Pinata-Man!
"Never fear! It's me, Pinata-Man - OW! Stop it! Ouch! Cut it out! Oh! Stop hitting me!!!"
"Never fear! It's me, Pinata-Man - OW! Stop it! Ouch! Cut it out! Oh! Stop hitting me!!!"
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Revenge of the Pasta…
Yep, another week has passed us by and it was time, once again, for me to cook. (Jenn’s out of town, so she’ll be chiming in with my recipe after she gets back.) This week, it was… what was the name?… oh, right, Pasta Weirda… or something.
Seriously, this was one strange pasta dish. But, I made it anyway, in the interests of discovery and science… and because Vicky told me it was my turn to cook.
Here’s the recipe:
MAMACELLO PASTA
1 lb Spaghetti or Linguini3
T Extra Virgin Olive Oil
4 Cloves of garlic, finely chopped
2 pinches Crushed Red Pepper Flakes
1/2 C Dry white wine
2 Lemons zest
1 Lemon juiced
1/2 C Heavy Cream
Handful of flat leaf parsley, chopped
1 C Fresh Basil, Shredded
Freshly grated Pecorino Romano cheese for topping pasta… or whatever it is you use
Now, these were some weird ingredients. I mean, lemon juice and shredded basil??? That’s not the kind of food they make where I come from. And, it got worse. I started reading the directions (original copies can be seen on Jenn’s site) and it made no sense. Add the garlic to the oil and then set it aside for FIVE MINUTES? It was looking more like a joke than a recipe! So, I did what any red-blooded, American male would do… I bitched about it until Vicky called Jenn.
Between the two of us, we agreed it didn’t make much sense. After all, how long did you leave the garlic in the oil before removing it? Did you want to brown it? And why five minutes? Jenn suggested that the intent was to infuse the oil with garlic and red pepper flavor. I could get behind that. Okay!
So, here are your revised directions.
I put a HUGE HEAP of finely chopped garlic in the olive oil (we’re talking 6-8 cloves!), along with twice the red pepper flakes. That soaked up the oil so I poured in even mor e oil! You can do that.
As that cooked over medium-low heat, with my sexy assistant stirring (that would be Vicky), I started the pasta. And I went with angel hair pasta because… well, we have a ton.
After the garlic and pepper infused the oil, I poured in easily ½ cup of dry, white wine. (We went with a Sauvignon Blanc… and I got saucy on the rest of the bottle!) Vicky had been kind enough to zest the lemons for me and we through that in, too.
We probably didn’t let it boil for the whole three minutes before throwing in the cream, lemon juice, salt, and – yes – a whole ladle of pasta water. It sounds pretty gross but, there you have it – and we did it!
Then, I drained the pasta. After a few minutes letting the concoction reduce a bit, I threw in the basil, parsley, and some cheese. Then, we let that wilt a little.
Finally, I threw all the pasta in the pan and let that absorb, soak up, and generally love on all the sauce.
And, we ate.
Final verdict: Good. Very light and lemony. It would pair beautifully with some lightly grilled chicken or the rest of a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. (Hic!)
Seriously, this was one strange pasta dish. But, I made it anyway, in the interests of discovery and science… and because Vicky told me it was my turn to cook.
Here’s the recipe:
MAMACELLO PASTA
1 lb Spaghetti or Linguini3
T Extra Virgin Olive Oil
4 Cloves of garlic, finely chopped
2 pinches Crushed Red Pepper Flakes
1/2 C Dry white wine
2 Lemons zest
1 Lemon juiced
1/2 C Heavy Cream
Handful of flat leaf parsley, chopped
1 C Fresh Basil, Shredded
Freshly grated Pecorino Romano cheese for topping pasta… or whatever it is you use
Now, these were some weird ingredients. I mean, lemon juice and shredded basil??? That’s not the kind of food they make where I come from. And, it got worse. I started reading the directions (original copies can be seen on Jenn’s site) and it made no sense. Add the garlic to the oil and then set it aside for FIVE MINUTES? It was looking more like a joke than a recipe! So, I did what any red-blooded, American male would do… I bitched about it until Vicky called Jenn.
Between the two of us, we agreed it didn’t make much sense. After all, how long did you leave the garlic in the oil before removing it? Did you want to brown it? And why five minutes? Jenn suggested that the intent was to infuse the oil with garlic and red pepper flavor. I could get behind that. Okay!
So, here are your revised directions.
I put a HUGE HEAP of finely chopped garlic in the olive oil (we’re talking 6-8 cloves!), along with twice the red pepper flakes. That soaked up the oil so I poured in even mor e oil! You can do that.
As that cooked over medium-low heat, with my sexy assistant stirring (that would be Vicky), I started the pasta. And I went with angel hair pasta because… well, we have a ton.
After the garlic and pepper infused the oil, I poured in easily ½ cup of dry, white wine. (We went with a Sauvignon Blanc… and I got saucy on the rest of the bottle!) Vicky had been kind enough to zest the lemons for me and we through that in, too.
We probably didn’t let it boil for the whole three minutes before throwing in the cream, lemon juice, salt, and – yes – a whole ladle of pasta water. It sounds pretty gross but, there you have it – and we did it!
Then, I drained the pasta. After a few minutes letting the concoction reduce a bit, I threw in the basil, parsley, and some cheese. Then, we let that wilt a little.
Finally, I threw all the pasta in the pan and let that absorb, soak up, and generally love on all the sauce.
And, we ate.
Final verdict: Good. Very light and lemony. It would pair beautifully with some lightly grilled chicken or the rest of a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. (Hic!)
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Fun with your face...
My Heritage is a site that's in beta right now. You really have to try it out. It's really excellent at blowing smoke deep into the darkest recesses of your ass. It takes a picture of a person's face and finds the picture that you'll think is most flattering.
For instance, I tried both of my headshots and it said I looked like Christian Slater and Leo DiCaprio.
... I'LL TAKE IT!
Give it a spin!
Next, I'm going to look for a website that tells me I'm filthy rich!
For instance, I tried both of my headshots and it said I looked like Christian Slater and Leo DiCaprio.
... I'LL TAKE IT!
Give it a spin!
Next, I'm going to look for a website that tells me I'm filthy rich!
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