Snip, Snip, and Don’t Tell

One of my most quirky pet peeves is a talkative barber. The experience of an talking head behind me making small talk and pulling at my hair while I sit still and unable to see anything due to a lack of glasses is something I find profoundly annoying. I have found that I deal with this in one particular way: I tell lies shamelessly.

I have come to the realization that this is about the only time that I tell untruths so wantonly and consciously. I have held several degrees and several jobs. Most degrees are bland and not needing of any detail, and a job is often “way less exciting than it sounds.” I don’t know why I do this. There is no gain from this, and I’m not trying to be malicious. Perhaps it’s just a way to escape reality and an odd experience for a few minutes.


When I think about my writing, two things always seem to worry me the most. First is not knowing what can be considered a success in my writing. Would it be that I like it? Would it be that others like it? I know that I have to like it, but if I want to be entertaining, it would be good to be actually entertaining.

This leads to the second thing is that I’m scared of what people think of my writing. I’ve had lots of people read my stuff, and I must admit that most of the reception has been positive. I guess I just always feel I should be doing better, which all goes back to the first worry.

I know I should just let this all go, but that’s just not me. I worry that I am my own worst enemy in this regard.

Right, Left, Buffalo, and Airplane Wings

A friend of mine on Facebook has a tendency to post links to remarkably condescending opinion pieces from remarkably partisan political websites. I do not agree with his politics, but beyond these posts that seem to be baiting for reaction he’s an okay guy. I can’t seem to care enough to respond to these posts at all.

The truth is that I find political discussions incredibly exhausting. It’s not that I don’t care, but I don’t like what always seems to be pointless arguing for the sake of arguing. So when discussion goes that direction, I tend to just shrug and ignore the ensuing brouhaha.

Unfortunately, I do have a lot of friends who are really into politics and political discussion. It almost makes me feel guilty that I just don’t find these arguments to be a central or important part of my day. Do I just not care enough? Or is ambivalence the correct tact for such a charged topic that nobody really seems to agree upon?

Writing My Tale

Lately I’ve been trying to write a novella, something to show people and ask ‘Do you like this?’ It’s a silly dream of mine, I suppose. The problem is that I’m having trouble coming up with the right story I want to tell. I don’t know if I’m familiar with that spark of insight that comes with a singular brilliant idea. At least that’s what I imagine it being. I lack training and any sort of confirmation that I actually have any clue what I’m doing. Like so many things, I could use directions.

I’ve written small things, that some people have liked, but I always feel like I should be doing something grander and just plain better. I think that’s a good thing, not being satisfied. However, does the need for perfection and improvement hinder my ultimate growth? I’m not sure.

Maybe I should just write in a ton of genres and find something that has a hint of a spark.

Sports = Not Me

Yesterday was the first game of the Spring season for my girlfriend’s soccer team. While I love watching and rooting during her games, I am not much of the sort for athletic pursuits. I exercise, sure, but the competitive and participatory do not go well for me. Perhaps it’s the glasses, perhaps I’m a bit too shy, or perhaps it’s the fact that I’m super clumsy. It’s just not in my genes.

I did play some sports back in grade school, but that was mostly to appease my parents. I was awkward at best. I played football, baseball, and basketball. The combination of my lack of talent and a sea of kids and parents who overreacted to the importance of whatever sport was not good. I warmed a lot of benches. Almost none of the players were my actual friends. Sometimes I wonder what my parents were thinking, trying to get me to fit in something that I did not do well in or even liked. Ultimately, I knew that they meant well. I think that this was the first moment, as most children experience, where I realized that my parents were not infallible. In the end I stuck with all these sports longer than I would or should have. I don’t have many happy memories of the experiences.

Strangely, the one sport I did not play when I was little was soccer. I wonder if that is the sport I should’ve played. Being one of 22 on a field, not expected to score a lot or perform many feats beyond kicking the ball in the right direction. I think that some of my friends might have even played. At the very least it is a more cerebral game, and I that at least might have something that might have interested me.

One of my few good memories was playing basketball on a team that had a coach that gave us grade-schoolers a rather large playbook that covered a wide range of scenarios. I loved the strategy, and while I finally convinced my parents that I should drop football and baseball, I stuck with basketball a little longer. After I graduated to the next league level, I got placed on a team whose coach had three plays, all of which were designed to give his nephew the shot. I quit halfway through the season and never played team sports again.

These days, I realize that most men’s leagues have weeded out by the most super competitive, and my utter lack of talent means I shouldn’t wade into that pool. I’ve seen the men’s soccer teams play while my girlfriend is on the pitch, and it isn’t pretty. So, I guess that I will stick to the solitary gym for exercise and keep team sports at a purely cheerleading level.

A Hammer and a Nail

Today was what I would consider the first real of hint of spring this year. It was a day of a bright sun and just enough breeze to make things temperate and comfortable. Naturally, this led to the first discussions of what outdoors improvements and projects we will undertake this year.

Last year I did a lot of projects tied to the idea of maintaining a house. As the entirety of my adult life before now had been spent living in apartments, this was quite a learning experience. On top of that, I never really had any inkling to learn such things like the craft of home improvement. I am lucky that I am living in a digital age; I was saved more than once by simply typing my projects into a search engine and immediately watching a video devoted to my specific question. How do I fix a garage door? How do put up a tile backsplash? How do I do this thing that as a male I should be expected to know how to do? The list goes on.

The best thing is that I actually found some of these menial chores to be rather fun. I suspect that my younger self would call myself a liar. Heh.

There and Back Again

Recently, in a fit of madness caused by a lack of writing inspiration, I decided to look for some old archive writings. I’m not sure why I wanted to look at that stuff, other than a nagging feeling that I used to write more than I do now. Of course, I knew that a great deal of it consisted of angsty memories best left in the past. Still, I found myself quite surprised with some of what I found.

One of the things that I found were a mountain of old blog posts, from both this site and several others strewn about the internet. To be honest, I had forgotten how prolific I used to be at writing these musings.

Of course, that raises a question: how could I have ever forgotten about that?

Read more »

West End Girls

West End Girls is off my list of karaoke songs. I had been meaning to sing that one for a while. It had been too long since my last karaoke excursion.

Nothing Interesting Happened Today

… and I should get to bed. I’ve been staring at this screen for twenty minutes, trying to come up with something fun, but I failed to come up with a long form thought worthy of blogging.

What I considered:
— I started reading a book that I felt was a bit dry and British to get me really reading, so I thought I should start reading another one just to mix it up. Unfortunately, I picked up a book that is written in the second person and uses Scottish slang. I need to find something more American next, methinks.
— Boardgame review/thoughts
— I should write a book /end message


Posting On My Macbook

…and seeing the Internet mourn Steve Jobs. It’s kind of strange. I don’t recall any other major tech guru of such ilk that passed in my lifetime. It wasn’t like the world didn’t see it coming; he was looking ill and had taken such a step back from the spotlight. Still, it feels unreal. A big slice of culture and worldliness died today.

I feel a lack of words. I’m somehow remembering watching Pirates of Silicon Valley, which was a TV movie I watched back in high school starring Anthony Michael Hall as Bill Gates and Noah Wyle as Steve Jobs. Now that’s a strange memory.