Friday, August 26, 2005

Cat and Girl (and me)

As with most of my writing I've read over older entries of this blog and have found them to be lacking. They don't feel complete, missing a sense of a larger image in which they fit. As I read two ideas slowly crept into my head. The first: "Man I want a falafel." Followed almost immediately by: "Gasp! The imitative fallacy."

The first is pretty self explanatory, Falafel=Goodness. The second I'll take a moment to explain. For the unaware, the imitative fallacy is a trap many young (and even older) fiction writers fall into. The presentation of the plot imitates the themes and story, completely unintentionally. For instance, if you write a story about a race, where everything is speeding by, you might find that each paragraph is short, the sentences choppy, and the characters jump from one idea to the next very quickly, and none of it was planned when you started writing. The imitative fallacy is especially problematic if said style is bothersome to the reader (as stories that fall into the imitative fallacy often are).

Now how does this apply to my blog? I'm very glad you asked. I am unemployed drifting around aimlessly in a small suburban town. I have very little contact with my friends outside the phone and e-mail. No face time. I don't do much, as I said, I'm just sort of drifting trying to find a job (I had a job, I mean a good job, a job I'd like, not just a job but a Career). I'm 25 and I think it's time I started growing up. I don't want to get all stuffy in a suit and pants (pantsless employment=fun job or porn star, and I don't have the...ehem, body to be a porn star - nor do I think being a porn star would be a fun job, but that’s niether here nor there and this has become far too long of a parenthetical break) and just worry about money, and marriage, and children and all that other crap adults are supposed to worry about. But I also don't think I should still be bumming around working in a simple retail or coffee shop type job, not three years out of college with a nice (and expensive) degree.

I’ve looked back on my blog and found that the posts mimic my life. Drifting, aimless, self-contained, and searching for meaning. And really, that's just not good enough.

I just read the newest installment of my favorite web comic Cat and Girl and there was a line that really struck me. To quote, "If television's a babysitter, the internet is a drunken librarian who won't shut-up." I realized I didn't want to just be another voice of an endless "drunken" cacophony. So I'm taking some time off from this blog. I don't want to be profound (who really can be profound all the time, and those that are, man they're annoying), I just want to come up with a greater context.

I am still going to read all the blogs I read, because I like those blogs (noodles is posting again; I've said it before but I really, really dig her prose, both smart and funny - it doesn't get much better than that), but I'm refraining from posting until I find my context.

Or get really really bored, whichever comes first.

uh... carry on then...

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

just another 332 days to go

I know, I know, three posts in one day, do I even have a life anymore? Actually no, but that's neither here nor there at the moment. Onto the topic at hand.

It's early, but I totally know what I want for my birthday next year.

For the next 15 minutes

I know I don't have many readers. But I'm posting mostly just to keep myself occupied, and this blog is devoted to my own narcisism.

That being said, through no fault of my own, I think I may have stumbled on to the next big interet hype. I may be wrong but I think (update 5/28/07: link disabled due to the fact that the blog doesn't exist any more - I guess I was wrong) This Blog is going to become insanely popular soon. Get in on the ground floor now. It's quite possibly (as advertised) the cutest blog ever.

If I'm right, you've heard it here first. If I'm wrong, well, I'll just add it to the list.

Take that Lex Luthor

For truth, justice, and way.

Sunday, August 21, 2005

Amichai's life Lesson #327

Never watch the Iron Chef when you're hungry.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

I'm a stinker


It was around 8:30 at night and I was driving home from the supermarket. A horrid popsicle craving struck me about a half hour earlier so I hit the supermarket hoping to find Edy's whole fruit popsicles. Alas, they were all out. In their stead I purchased a box of Tropicana popsicles; 12 for the price of 14 (advertised "made with real fruit juice" which kinda scared me that there are enough popsicle makers out there who don't use fruit juice for fruit flavored popsicles it has to be advertised as something special).

With the popsicle box open in the passenger seat and a raspberry popsicle in my mouth I hit the road feeling very pleased with myself. I was in no rush, the night air was cool, and even obeying the speed limit I was no more than ten minutes from home. The road was dark, quiet; the type of quiet found only in open stretches between adjoining suburban towns. You know, the noise disappears, just for a moment, woods wall the road, and even though you know in two minutes you are going to drive passed condominium complexes, at that moment the quiet makes you feel as if the world is actually a gentle place to live.

I left my windows open and the cool air rushed through the car. The road was empty, or so I thought as I was about to step down on the gas, forgoing the 35 mile per hour speed limit and race home to get the popsicles in the freezer. But just before I put any pressure on the gas pedal, a large, white, Cadillac SUV pulled up behind me and flashed its brights. I was caught a bit off guard, so when I didn't immediately accelerate to satisfy the drivers lust for speed the SUV's brights turned on, no longer flashing, but now glaring into my car. Popsicles or no popsicles, I was not about to be pushed around by some jerk. So I did what any other jerk would do. I slowed down.

I kept my car traveling down the quiet road at a few miles under the speed limit. And when the speed limit dropped I obeyed (probably the first time I ever have driving that particular road). Brights still glaring into my car, the SUV practically nipping at my back bumper, we remained like this for about a song and a half (the fifth and sixth tracks on Transatlantacism by Death Cab For Cutie).

Finally we got to a red light and I pulled into the left hand turn only lane. The White SUV pulled up to my side. From the driver seat a very addled woman, no older than 23, stared at me. She did not appear angry, just awfully confused. I suspect she was expecting a different sort of person behind the wheel of my car. Who she was expecting, I can't say.

So I waved, and smiled as sincerely as I could, because when you boil it down, I am, as Daffy Duck likes to say, a stinker.

Oh, and the popsicle was delicious.

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

Questions without answers

I don't support the war in Iraq, but that's old news and that isn't what this post is about. I just wanted to get it out of the way, and give a little background before I charge head first into this rant.

There's been more and more talk about Cindy Sheehan, in the papers, and on the various news programs. Whether she is vilified (say, by Foxnews), put up on a pedestal (, used as a jumping off point for discussion (Newsweek) or mined for comedy (The Daily Show) no one can seem to shut up about her and her protest down in Texas.

Now whether you agree with her motives or not, you should concede it takes a very strong woman, and strong sense of commitment to do what she is doing. There are those who are denouncing her motives saying she is just using her grief and the death of her son for political gains, but then again many of those same denouncers are the ones who supported Terry Shiavo's parents who used their grief over their daughter for political gains (the denouncers political gains, not the parents). But the left isn't blameless either, just look at the recent attack adds on Judge Roberts NARAL pulled because they were just too damn mean (and by and large, blatantly ignored the facts). Both sides like twisting the truth for their own political gains.

To be honest, I don't really care about all of that. It's back story. Here's my real issue. In her protests Sheehan asked if this war was so important why hasn't he (President Bush) sent his daughters off to Iraq. This question, if you recall, was used by Michael Moore in his documentary Fahrenheit 9/11 as he approached Senators who voted for the war whether they would enlist their children to fight. The point being, if the Senators and President Bush aren't willing to sacrifice their own children it must not be a just war. I find that to be very flawed reasoning for a few reasons. First, I can't think of a single parent who would willingly sacrifice their children's lives for any cause. There are parents who swell with pride when their children choose to join the army, and fight for their country, even with a strong possibility that their children will die fighting. That being said, no parent I know would sign their children up themselves if given the choice.

Which brings me to the second reason. It's not the parents choice. My parents can't sign me up for the military. The only person who can sign me up is me. Even if they wanted me to be a soldier, if I didn't want to be a soldier, there was nothing they could legally do about it. The same is true for the first daughters. Even if President Bush wanted them in the army (which I doubt he does, as Jon Stewart of the Daily show said, "Are you kidding, I thought we wanted to win this war?") with out their consent he couldn't do anything about it, legally. The same applies to the children of Senators, or Congressmen or women. It's the children who have to choose to volunteer, that's why it's called volunteering.

The question "would you send your children to war?" is a divisive one. There is no way one can answer it and look good, sound good, or be righteous. It's asked simply to make the recipient look selfish, greedy, and - for lack of a better word - bad. Bad as in evil, morally repugnant, and hypocritical. These sorts of questions just make protesters on both sides of the aisle less palatable to the other side. They just entrench us in our beliefs that those on the other side are wrong as we think to ourselves: "I mean look at the kind of cheap tricks they pull to get some sympathy." To really spark a helpful debate we need to start asking better questions, not just divisive ones.

Monday, August 15, 2005

Friday, August 12, 2005

Doomed for all eternity, though I hear there's a starbucks there

Another stupid internet test.

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Second Level of Hell!
You have come to a place mute of all light, where the wind bellows as the sea does in a tempest. This is the realm where the lustful spend eternity. Here, sinners are blown around endlessly by the unforgiving winds of unquenchable desire as punishment for their transgressions. The infernal hurricane that never rests hurtles the spirits onward in its rapine, whirling them round, and smiting, it molests them. You have betrayed reason at the behest of your appetite for pleasure, and so here you are doomed to remain. Cleopatra and Helen of Troy are two that share in your fate.

Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)Moderate
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)High
Level 2 (Lustful)High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)Very Low
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)Moderate
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)Very Low
Level 7 (Violent)Low
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)Low

Take the Dante's Inferno Test

The virtuous non-believer thing makes sense, as I'm, you know, not a Christian. And I'd argue the fradulent bit, though you wouldn't know if was being honest or not. But lustfull? I think that's just a result of not having any sex for over a year. Er, was that too much information?

Thursday, August 11, 2005

Crossing my fingers

I just sent my resume and cover letter off to a job I actually want. Wish me luck.

More of the inane

I stepped on my glasses and one of the arms snapped off. They're six years old so it's time for a new pair anyway, I just really liked them. They were one of the few things I owned that was stylish but not trendy or too hip to make them passe after a year or so. Ah, my glasses, I mourn thee.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

If you're a guy...

You know your hair is too long if it gets in the way when you try and blow your nose.