7.01.2003


I'm Sailing...Away?

It's been almost one year.

One year since I've divulged the non-secrets and excruciating minutia of everyday life, the half-thoughts and semi-truths, the things which mean nothing to most and not much more to a few select others.

I stopped writing because I was uninspired. Truth be told, I felt I had become boring. Blogging became like homework. It was daily drudgery, and it wasn't fun anymore.

I took more pleasure from reading the rants and raves, non-secrets and semi-truths of other people's lives.

But I began to realize the theraputic value of expressing the half-thoughts tumbling in the dryer of my mind. And while decluttering my house last night, I began to realize that no Tide or Windex or even those Scrubbing Bubbles could wipe clean 10 months worth of stuff piling up.

It's been almost one year.

And in a year, nothing is terribly more exciting, although I'm about to sail into Pittsburgh, figuratively speaking. I've been on a nice, relaxing, quiet journey up the Ohio River. Soon, I'll have to make a choice.

The Monongahela, or the Alleghany?

If you're familiar with baseball, Western Pennsylvania, or are just a river buff (what makes one a buff, by the way? Wasn't that a Seinfeld episode?), you know Pittsburgh sits "Where the Monoghela and the Alleghany meet to form the Ohio.

One river will take me down familiar waters through a new environment. A new job in an old career.

Another river will take me down unfamiliar waters through a completly different environment, where instead of getting orders...I'll give them...all day long...to pilots. How many of you would trust me guiding your plane into Springfield, C-Bus, Knoxvegas, Ft Myers, or Charlotte? Actually...I'd do better than some of you might think. ;-)

Then of course...I could say "Screw you, Pittsburgh!", turn my vessel around...and sail right back where I came from...where the water is like glass, the scenery is beautiful, and all sorts of fun people board my boat, guitars and six-packs and card decks in hand.

This used to be a familiar topic on My Arch Enemy's blog. He ended up leaving us to go be a hack.

Wherever my ship goes, I hope you'll sail along. And maybe read about the trip along the way.


8.27.2002


Blogging is so passe

I thought as my life got better, so much better, I'd want to write more.

Turns out, I really don't. In fact, I've considered revamping this in some form...or getting rid of it completely.

I enjoy the writing exercise, but figured out I enjoy pouring over the excruciating minutia of everyday life with friends over a cold beer instead of on a computer keyboard.

Hmmm, I just blogged though. Maybe I'll wax poetic again in some other form sometime soon.


8.06.2002


Tee-hee

Otis sat in Emilio across the intersection from me this morning. As he drove by, he gave me Wootlers. I love a good early-morning chuckle. Thanks, Otis.


The Emperor's New, Uncomfortable Clothes

When I was just a wee lad (which is years ago, despite the fact that if I don a baseball cap, an untucked t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, I still look 12), I had ambition and aspiration in the career world.

I wanted to be a "doctor heart".

Mom still thinks that's the cutest thing (ain't it though?). Never mind these days I can't even watch ER on a full stomach for fear of...an empty stomach...it was what I wanted to be. I believe doctor heart is kid-code for heart surgeon, by the way.

By 1st grade, I'd jumped into the technology world...despite the fact it was only 1983, when most people thought a hard drive was something you got in a cheap car...I wanted to be a computer salesman. Although I continued to like computers and had some nerdy friends you would refer to as "hackers", my interest in sales waned...selling candy for every junior high activity you're involved in will do that to ya (but don't ya miss those flavored suckers? Mmmmm).

After shutting down the career-oriented part of my mind for several years, I turned it on again sometime just before high school and decided I was going to be a weatherman. 'Weather is cool. Wouldn't being on TV be cool too?' Somehow, no matter how tough the going got on the road to 'becoming a meteorologist', I never took a side street. Stubborness more than anything, I suppose. But being on TV still seemed cool.

And here I am with more suits than I ever thought I would own in my closet...nice ties...even a clothing allowance to buy them. And I hate wearing every one of them. I see people on the street doing their jobs wearing t-shirts and shorts and jeans and whatever the hell they want. Jackhammering pavement, climbing telephone poles...delivering mail even. And I am jealous of them. I want a job where I don't have to dress up every morning and look freshly-creased. I want to grow a beard and not have anyone tell me I can't. Being able to do it for just 8 days a year isn't enough.

I chose a profession...and now I have to look like a professional, both in skill AND appearance. What the hell was I thinking?


8.05.2002


Hey, look what the Jewish kid is doing!

He's not stealing your money, thank you. And no, he's not running a bank or figuring out how to control Hollywood. He's not even eating Matzah (though he could really go for a nice Manischevitz chocolate macaroon or two right now).

I'm entering the Methodist church. Two days a week. Soon to be three. No, I'm not kidding.

Blame Mom and the countless years she dragged me to piano lessons. Really, it wasn't all that bad. I mean I learned how to play pretty well. Sheila Stephenson was my piano teacher, and I don't remember much about her. In fact, if you asked me to describe her, I would only remember jet-black hair worn in some kind of bouffant. And I could be entirely wrong on that. I believe she also wore thick 50s-like horn rim glasses. This too could be entirely untrue. That's just how I remember her for some reason. She was a good teacher. I got a lot of gold stars at the top of my sheet music. Nothing like sticky foil to make you feel good about what you're doing. The second teacher, in Illinois, was named Beth Jones. I remember exactly what she looked like, and it's not just a re-fabrication in my mind's eye. She had greying hair and looked like a very trusting lady. But this woman put such an emphasis on technique, by the time she was done mutating my hands into "proper curved position", I looked like I was suffering from malnutrition-based atrophy. Worse than that, this woman smelled like she had been sucking on a clove of garlic all day, earning her the dubious nickname of "Bad-Breath-Beth". I truly think my Mom sympathized with this and allowed me to quit at age 13 or 14.

But anyway...all those years of lessons fostered an ability and a desire to sit down in front of 88 keys and use them as a creative outlet. It clears my head to play the piano. And it's fun, even when the music is difficult...I love a good challenge.

Which is how I ended up playing piano/keyboard for a production of the musical "Godspell" (which, if you haven't heard, has some very cool songs...go on, sing with me, "Day By Day..."). It will be at St. Peter's at Hudson & Devenger in late October.

You should come see it. And if you don't, I will pray for you. Aww, damnit. The South has got me in another one of it's evil clutches.

Just kidding...but come see the show anyway.



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