There is no "I" in TEAM...
...but there's one in vacation! And after the past few weeks such as I've had at work, this is perfect planning! Hats off to me! I need a recharge, and I have a lot of fun stuff planned for myself. I'll have a full report (and hopefully a fresh perspective on the day-to-day) upon my return. 'Till then, the weblog's on vacation too. I know, with the tumbleweeds blowing through here, you'd never know otherwise. But according to Radio Userland, this is my 100th post on this site. That's an average of one entry about every four days; not great, but better than I'll bet you thought.

S-I will return on August 23. Enjoy the summer, y'all. 7:47:38 AM    comment []trackback []  

The Silent Blogger, part XIV
Have I mentioned that July is one of the busiest months in the superelastic year? I believe I must have, somewhere. It's one of several months where operational tempo at Funny Company takes steroids, and what are normally mundane tasks for me there become Important and Oversupervised. Because it's July. The business side of media is full of peculiar considerations like that. For me, it means overlong workdays, leaving me with spare mental energy to muster for residual tasks. And once again, blogging takes a backseat for me. Feh. My regular readers have gotten used to it, but all these new people getting shunted over here by mentions at MassLive may be disappointed.

No shortage of commonplace and vulgar things for me to write about, mind. Just a lack of quality blog time in which to tell the tales. But there is good news. If I moved out of Massachusetts, I could save a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to GEICO. (GEICO, like most other mainstream auto insurance companies, doesn't write policies in MA... the over-regulation kills their profit margin... now you get the "joke", see?)

The actual good news is I've decided to renew for another year of hosting on Radio Userland. So the tales will keep coming, more or less as sporadically as they have thus far. When I started out, I'd had visions of building this into a place of Moveable Type wonder, with photos and graphics and geegaws and gimcracks, such that I'd have a "real" blog by now, ready to grow up and leave the nested safety of a template-driven host. But I never took the time to learn coding, or style sheets, or any of that which I'd hoped to do a year ago.

This coming year, I think I'll just strive to maintain fresh text. That's been enough of a challenge. 10:56:25 AM    comment []trackback []  

Ethical challenge
Stumbling into the vestibule of my building last night, between two sets of doors locked to non-residents, I was my usual distracted self, walking without "seeing," if you know what I mean. Moving by habit in familiar surroundings, tired from work. Noticed a little garbage on the floor. Felt a little irritation, there. Our maintenance guys keep the common areas as clean and well-maintained as can be expected, but pigs will be pigs, I guess... and hey wait a minute, that looks like money.

It was. A few crumpled up wads of bills. Mostly singles, but a few twenties in the mix. From what I could see, at least $50 lying there on the carpeting. And no, the challenge for me wasn't whether I would pick it up and put it in my pocket, laughing like Bart Simpson at the thought of the nice dinner someone's carelessness "bought" me. Too much bad karma tied in with finding and keeping a stranger's lost money, and I would thus never be tempted, 'cause I know all about karma.

But I still didn't know what to do. I just stood there, staring at it for at least a couple of minutes, not even touching it. I wondered, who belonged to this cash, and how did it get here? What drama did I miss? How active is my imagination, really?

Was it a street-corner drug pusher tossing away money with the cops in pursuit? Not likely (unless the pusher lives here, of course, and I doubt he'd lead the cops to his door. That only happens on Cops, the TV show, right?) Besides, the cops would have picked it up.

Was it a domestic dispute... an argument in the hall... "I don't want your fucking money, asshole!!"?

Was it some drunk college kid crawling home from the "entertainment district," pulling his door key out of his pocket, too impaired to notice all that money fell out when he did so?

Was someone from Candid Camera behind a screen, waiting to tug on a fishing line attached to the bill-wads the moment I stooped to pick them up, waiting for hilarity to ensue?

Whatever it was, I decided I was just going to leave it there. I realized the moment I so much as touched this money, I'd be inheriting responsibility for someone else's problem, which might not be a good thing in this case. Some ass-kickingly huge person walking in, for instance, just as I was grabbing the cash he'd dropped. But I was just going to turn it in to the office in the morning, I'd say through newly bleeding and broken teeth.

Or I scoop it up and wind up as Exhibit D in some UMass student's psych thesis. See how the guy stands there, makes sure nobody's looking, ascertains how much money's on the floor...

Or, five minutes later, the panicked retiree who'd dropped it would miss the opportunity to find what she'd been saving for the church bazaar upon the retracing of her steps.

I thought it best to leave it there.

Hopefully that was the best decision for all involved. I'd like to believe so, anyway... although I have a suspicion it ended up under the elastic bands of a few "adult entertainers" at one or the other of our neighborhood's strip clubs. But it's out of my hands now. 1:04:44 PM    comment []trackback []  

Summer's lazy, hazy crazy days
For some reason, that song makes me think of childhood dining at Shakey's Pizza, which apparently still exists in some parts of the country. I've no idea how that association was formed. Maybe Shakey's had a radio commercial jingle that sounded like it, or something.

The pool at the neighboring apartment complex opened today. I can tell, because the sound of what must be a hundred happy, splashing kids is traveling through my open window. It's almost like a cut out of a stock sound effects library. Cue happy, splashing kids.

I just returned from a walk over to the Hall of Fame, which for the rest of the world is the shrine of basketball, but for me is where Uno's is. Well, actually, it's right next door, but they share a parking lot. And the idea of going to our hometown mecca of sports just to eat pizza is really quite funny.

It's a nice day, and I'm bent on enjoying it with the heightened senses of someone who is experiencing the reawakening of loving feelings. A place where sounds of laughter are welcome, pizza tastes better, and the sun's valiant attempts to penetrate this persistent cloud cover do not go unnoticed.

Some of you have, very gently, suggested the news I posted on Monday is predicated on something incredibly flimsy and premature. It tempts me to feel defensive, like a teenager whining to a critical parent about someone they'd rather you didn't date. And I'm not sure I have a lot of time or patience for that, but I must address it.

It's hard for any deep thinking person to accept that love can happen between people who don't yet know each other all that well. I'm no different. I don't want to see the term misused, either. Call it anything you wish, anything but love, because love's never instant.

It's easy to subscribe to those beliefs, until you get blown off your feet yourself. Then you're kept busy trying to explain how you're different from everybody else. And I knew what I'd be in for when I started talking to other people about this.

One e-mailer, poignantly, made an association between this post and that one, and suggested I'm on some sort of manic coaster ride. Dude, you're just now figuring that out??!!

For me, there's a delicious irony in noting the same person who would fearlessly predict my MMPI results for me, a person unknown to him but for an assemblage of electrons on his monitor, is making the point that I can't possibly have full-blown feelings for a woman I was introduced to in the same way.

Besides, chief, you missed the point of the "obsessions" thread entirely. Maybe you should have taken a 200-level psychology class as well.

(I would be remiss to overlook that I got an extremely uplifting and positive letter as well. Can you imagine? So much so, I've asked for and am awaiting the writer's permission to post it in full.)

I know, because this romance was born of the internet and has not yet quite been actualized (there's some legitimate circumstances there, and I'll get to those another day), it has to wear a negative association, that taint of illegitimacy. Others aren't going to take this in as wholeheartedly as I would perhaps wish them to.

Two points I want to make before I'm done with this.

I want to assure everyone I know what I'm doing. Give me at least a little credit, willya, for being a mature, headstrong, and at times worldly person who makes a living in journalism (where interviewing, fact-checking skills and research tools occasionally come into play)? I wouldn't be so egotistical as to suggest I'm smarter than you, but I know I'm smarter than many, And I'm positive that the "woman of my dreams" isn't really a man in a trailer in Nevada, all right?

And I want everyone to know that I'm willing to take a certain risk, as regards real-world chemistry and commitment issues yet to be experienced. That might offend the sensibilities of some of you, and I respect that. I know it's essential, but the order in which such things can be revealed isn't always linear, or convenient. I don't necessarily have a problem with that.

By the way, how in the world did people fall in love at long distances (and successfully consummated far, far more than anything I've suggested at present) before the internet, or even before the telephone? Maybe it's not how you would go about your own affairs, but please don't suggest it's impossible.

I'm happy. If you're so inclined, be happy for me. And if you're secretly hoping I fall on my ass to prove a point, that's fine, too. Maybe we'll all learn something from my pending experiences. 1:50:24 PM    comment []trackback []  

Missed You Too
Still off the map, under the radar, hiding in plain view. I'm sorry. It's rude of me to invite you to this party I'm throwing here, only to leave you sitting alone in the corner with some weird umbrella drink you didn't want or ask for.

I'll once again use the overworked host's excuse. I've been busy. And maybe the wait will ultimately be worth it for you. The stories are about to get better. Full of action, danger, adventure, romance...

(sound of needle scratching across record, music stopping)

Wait a minute, did he say romance??!

Ayup.

And, of course, you're leading up to telling us all about it. It's going to be one of those swept-off-feet, caution-to-winds, crazy-foolish-did-life-teach-you-anything love stories. I think I'm going to be sick.

Were I in your shoes, I'd agree with you. I wish I could loan you mine. My shoes have carried me on a journey through despair, cynicism, isolation... the soles are thin and the uppers cracked. But they saw me through a long, jungly hike. All the way through. I've reached a clearing. At the other side of it stands a woman I've only dared to dream about. Until now. She exists. And I love her. Best of all, she loves me too.

Oh, shit. He's lost his mind! Get me another one of those umbrella drinks!

Oh, wait. It gets better! Although I've known this woman of my dreams for a little while now, we haven't, um, actually met in person yet.

He's on crack! He's googoo over someone he met... on the Internet! Foam the runways... this one's coming in with collapsed landing gear! Have the crash cart on standby, stat!

Read the archives, kids. Mine is a fleabitten soul. Go ahead, try to top it. Give it your best shot.

You can tell me about your acquaintances, your penpals, your friends... maybe even yourself. You did this and it didn't work. You were deceived, somehow. He/she lied to you. There was an evil ulterior motive. It can never work in the real world. Whatever.

Or you can trust my judgment here, maybe share a little of my excitement, and wish me well. Know that, in the very least, I wouldn't be sharing so much of this news here if I wasn't absolutely sure of it. After all, what do you think was happening during all this recent, silent-blog time?

Okay, this is starting to make sense now... sort of. At least I don't feel quite so sick. You might as well go ahead. You're going to anyway. Tell us all about her, and how the two of you are that one percent who can make something like this work. I promise not to roll my eyes too much.

Not yet. But soon. Very soon.

You bastard! You talk us into climbing six flights of stairs only to lead us to a locked door?

This is what they call a "cliffhanger." It's a soap opera tradition! I will introduce her to you soon enough. With the introduction will come a little more detail of the hows and whys, at least to the extent that I think you'll care about them. For now, I just want to get back to dancing across the clouds.

Whoo boy. Who wants to do the intervention, here?

Thanks for your concern, but I'm okay. I'm really, really okay. Believe.

Hey, what happened to that music? Party's just getting started! 12:47:58 PM    comment []trackback []  

Airing it out
Silly season is underway.

Got passed on the expressway by a motorcyclist this morning. One of those Yama-saki rice rockets that forces the rider to lean well forward in the saddle.

Rider covering up the vital parts... well, most of the vital parts. Had a flashy full-face helmet and Kevlar-lined jacket, in colors to match his bike (of course).

Also wearing tennis shoes and cut-offs. If he ever flies off that thing, dressed like that, he probably won't be playing much tennis. But that wasn't the most ridiculous aspect to his appearance.

You know how far forward you have to lean on those things, right? Such that the jacket rides up, the waistband rides down, and behold! Asscrack. Oh, I'd say, a good 6" expanse of it, a full moon for everyone he was passing. Quite a statement.

In cycle class, they say "don't dress for the ride, dress for the fall." But, you know, it's not a bad idea to dress for the ride too. 11:01:02 AM    comment []trackback []  

Addictions, obsessions and mental focus
Another "blackout period" on the ol' weblog. I have to consider why this keeps happening, and find it's more indicative of the way I'm living life these days than I'd care to admit.

As I've mentioned before, one of the reasons I started doing this a year ago was to force myself to take a frequent good look at myself. At the time I started the short-lived predecessor to this, I didn't have any sustained close friendships, and I've been removed from the remnants of my family for years. I had a lot to say, but not many to say it to.

One of the things I'd learned from reading others' online journals and weblogs is how common most of our desires, shortcomings and secrets turn out to be. By tapping into that community myself, I brought myself back down to earth and was able to put some perspective on my own Earth Shattering Events. By writing about them for my largely anonymous audience, I had to focus on me, think about me, and somehow articulate that which I chose to share. The blog was just another phase of my self-development work.

Over time, there came to be more reasons for me to do this, but that initial raison d'etre has never really left my thoughts.

Stands to reason, then, that the longish, unannounced silences are all a part of my chronicle. The common excuse behind all of them is that my attention gets overwhelmed by something (or occasionally someone) that has taken over, occupied a prominent place in my consciousness and crowded out all but my essential functioning.

At times like this, I'm not only not blogging. I'm often not returning phone calls, not balancing my checkbook, not replacing the burned out lamp in my refrigerator, not vacuuming, not responding to the jury summons, not watering my plants... and so on. I eat, I "sleep," I show up at work... and I obsess.

It's taken me until now to realize, this isn't good. It's a fairly recent behavioral pattern for me, and it's troubling. Becoming aware that I'm toting an unbalanced load... that something is absorbing too much of my psychic energy... was a struggle in itself.

What to do about it is positively daunting.

I've beat down a few addictions in my life, so I've learned that process of regaining self control, breaking the grip of external influences, eliminating harmful behaviors and substances. I also learned that the "addictive personality" is, in most cases, a cover-up. There's something deeper going on, something inside that we either don't recognize, don't want to look at, or want to drown out.

Conquering an addiction is not at all easy, but at least it's external. You can hold up a manifest "culprit," be it alcohol, drugs, sex, food, money... or even behaviors such as anger, abusiveness, recklessness. You have a clear cause and effect and can eliminate that which is doing you harm, sweat it out, and learn how to feel okay without it.

This isn't quite as cut and dried when the "culprit" is undefinable, a state of drive or being. Often as not, the cause isn't wholly behavioral, isn't wholly stimulated by external factors.

I feel I've been doing a great job reconciling my past and building for my future. For all the navel gazing I do, I like who I am now a lot more than the person I was a year, five years ago. But I'm not quite where I want to be. I have goals, and I'm eager to realize them. So when something comes along that seems to be a potential pathway to those goals, I jump right in. I let it consume me, overwhelm me.

In terms of outcome, this is counterproductive. In terms of self-esteem, it is destructive. And it's trying to tell me something about myself. What's going on with me here?

People I've met recently have come to describe me as "intense," and not in a flattering way. I think of myself as unassuming, down to earth, easygoing. People who know me well seem to validate that opinion. But the "snap" judgment consistently and repeatedly paints me as extreme. I can't ignore that any longer.

But does that mean I have to once again get all introspective and persistent, pick myself apart, break down the hidden motivations, force open the shielded parts of my ego? Because that seems, ahem, obsessive to me.

I should be grateful for where I am right now. If I were told my life, my situations, my relationships could never change from the state they're in right now, at this very moment, I could make do with that without too much hardship. But I would always want more. And the same would be true if I could realize my ideals. It's part of the human condition. Complacency kills. We're driven for more.

A while ago, I completed an ersatz profile that asked me to list those five things I could never do without. I said "love, freedom, peace, forgiveness, and a sense of belonging." One of the first deep questions I have to ask myself here is, did I really mean it?

By the way, I did balance my checkbook this morning. My balance is $0.63. That's not as dire as it sounds... I have reserves; cash on hand and overdraft protection and savings. There's no withdrawals outstanding. Plus, I'm paid tomorrow. But wow, another stark reminder that I've been fairly distant from reality lately.

It frightens me. 12:38:17 PM    comment []trackback []