Wow.
So, it's been awhile since I last made my presence felt here. Obviously, I've been missed. We've all been a little busy, apparently, and that's okay. It's that time of year. We've got presents to buy, wrap and hide. We've got weather conditions to avoid or frolic in. We've got work, friends and family, school, vacations, and all manner of things on our minds right now. So in the end, it's completely acceptable that none of us could find the time to come over here and commiserate.
Still...more than a week. One of us should have cracked before now. Dumb blind luck it was me, I guess.
Two for flinching, that is.
As previously reported, I've had two jobs going the last couple of weeks. There's the one that pays the bills - the seasonal job at Sony - and the freelance one that could very well be a stepping stone. Both have been going great, for different reasons. And then, there's the other job...the one I've been yapping about for months, only to have my almost giddy dreams vanish into smoke like a magician's trick. More on that one later.
First up, the freelance job. I've already talked about the gig itself, so if you want to know more about it, look at previous posts. Today was the deadline, and I turned in my final draft about an hour ago. Initial response from the editor is that everything looks good, but he's going to go over it in more detail, so that could change. What I really want to do tonight in this segment is to share some not-so-secret information with you kind people. This really should be a no-brainer, but that may just be me.
When I first got the assignment, I was given a list of people to contact. These people had been lined up previously, before the person ahead me dropped out and I was brought in to pinch hit. I contacted everyone on my list and introduced myself. A nice, short letter of introduction explaining that I was looking to interview them - either by phone or by email - and that I needed to know their preference if they were willing. All of them answered immediately. Some wanted to be contacted by phone, some by email. Those who wanted a phone call got one; I recorded the conversation, told them I was doing so, and took my notes. The ones who wanted to be interviewed by email were given a list of questions for them to answer at their leisure. The unwritten rule, of course, being that even if it was a written email, it was still to be considered a formal interview. All answers given were considered cleared and fully quotable.
Until today.
After not hearing from one resort for over a week, I finally got an email from a gentleman on Saturday. Mind you, my initial deadline was Friday. Fortunately for him, it got pushed to today to accommodate a late-comer who wanted to participate. The email on Saturday asked if it was too late to answer the questions I gave the guy over a week ago. I said no, but that I needed them before lunch to go over their answers, ask follow-ups if needed, and work the information into the story. This morning he informed me that he had answered about half of the questions, and had forwarded the remainder to his marketing manager, who would be getting back to me later in the day.
Sigh.
Great. Thanks for wasting my time even more.
A few hours later, I got the blessed email. Answers! Woot. Just what I needed. (not really) I looked them over, highlighting parts I wanted to use, and figured out how to work them into the article. But of course, there's a catch. Because two people wrote the answers, there were two different colors used in the replies. I emailed the marketing manager, asking her who wrote which response so attribution could be properly made. Any good reporter would do the same. Her response? OK, are you sitting down for this? Her answer was, and this is lifted directly from the email...
..."We prefer not to be quoted, but if you really need a specific quote please let us know and we'll work with you on it."
Um...
'Scuse me?
I have specific quotes. You already gave them to me. It's called a RESPONSE. I emailed her back, explaining the situation as politely as I could while still making sure to not cut through my tongue with my teeth. She responded with:
"Okay to use quotes, but please pass all quotes by me before sending to print."
What?!?!
*&%#^)+=?/!@%
Who the #%$! is this woman?
Not being in the mood to pick up a knife, drive to Telluride, and "explain" how things work when being interviewed, I copied and pasted all of their quotes I planned on using into an email so she could see how HER OWN FRIGGIN' WORDS!!!! were going to be handled. A few minutes later, I got her reply:
"Shawn - I need to have my director review; what time is your drop-dead? I'm sorry for the run-around, but I just got this info a couple hours ago and my answers, while accurate, need to be approved before publishing."
Aaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
1. Why didn't the guy I sent the ORIGINAL G*DD*MN EMAIL TO just answer the damn questions?
2. Why, if you're going to pass along said questions to someone else, would you not get $%#/* approval before you reply?
3. Who the )@#$ do you think you are, woman?!?!
In the middle of composing my now nowhere-near-nice response, I got the final email. The approved email. The one that graciously allowed me to directly use as quotable information that which she already friggin' sent me to be used as directly quotable information.
And really, that just sucks. I mean c'mon, how many times have you been building up a hurricane of righteous anger, only to have it deflated at the last second by someone or something? There I am, all fired up and ready to let loose, and it all just...ends. That's painful, I gotta say. Like eating ice cream too quickly, or trying to fart while coughing.
Don't look at me like that. We've all done it, and you know it.
Now armed with extra-super-special permission, I turned in my final draft. Okay, in the interest of full disclosure, my final response to her would have read, "I've already turned the article in, quotes firmly entrenched, you stupid psychopath. Your answers became quotable the moment you clicked SEND, and if you're too busy wondering why that white stuff is falling outside your window to understand how interviews are conducted in the modern world, then you should walk outside, turn your head toward the sky, and wait for the comet that - with any luck - is streaking toward you on a fateful rendezvous."
Yeah, you're right. It didn't actually say that. But now you know what I meant by not being able to vent...
Still, to make a long story short (too late)...the article's turned in, and my editor seems happy. For the time being. That may change, and that's expected. All I have to do now is patiently wait for my check while wondering if the cover story my editor talked about is going to come true. Cuz really, how cool would that be? Your first published work is a cover story (with byline, natch...) in a national trade journal.
I'll answer for you. It's very frackin' cool.
Which, in a neat little bit of transition, brings me to the real job. I've worked at the Sony store in Cherry Creek for three weeks now, and I've got to tell you...I honestly can't remember ever working for a group of people I've liked as a collective whole more than the people at Sony. Maybe I'm crazy (possible), maybe I'm drunk (not as possible, but still likely), or maybe I just finally got lucky. (Not that kind of lucky, pervert, although any serious offers can...um, that's another topic.) The bottom line is that top to bottom, from regular employees all the way down to us seasonal folk, I haven't met anyone there I don't like. Can other people there say the same thing? Who knows. I don't speak for them. Well, I do, but it's usually in that little annoying kiddie brat voice we all use when mocking someone, and only when they're not within earshot. (I said I liked them, not that I didn't make fun of them. It's the Circle of Life...I'm sure they do it to me too.) So, as a way of saying thank you without there being the slightest chance of one of them actually seeing it, I would like to acknowledge the great staff at Sony Style in Cherry Creek Mall, Denver, Colorado (names in no particular order, and apologies to anyone I forgot): John, Chris, Brad, Terry, Joel (stock), Jason, David, Polina, Victor, DC, Maz, Armando, Todd, Matt, James, Molly, Joel (cashier), Sean, Ryan, Tracie and James. You're all good people, and I'm pleased to know you.
Certain people in Utah, however...not so pleased to know them.
I've mentioned before, probably more often than you're comfortable with, the ultimate blogging job I applied for at The Canyons Resort in Park City, Utah. For those of who you stumbled onto this blog by accident and have miraculously made it this far undeterred, I will quickly recap. Four months, all expenses paid, blog 3-4 times a week, get paid $40,000. (There, quick enough for ya?) Considering how long my video application was in the Top 5 for both Voted and Viewed, I figured my chances of at least an interview were better than average. Then things changed. All of the videos that had been on top fell, and fell hard. Suddenly, a week before the deadline, videos that never even cracked the first page were now in the top spots, and the ones on top disappeared, seemingly off the face of the earth.
Still, I was optimistic. I mean, really...I was #3 Viewed and #2 Voted for a month. That had to count for something, right?
Well, in 2 days, I'll know for sure. The Canyons announces the winner on the 15th and to date, I've heard nothing about an interview. At this point, the only way things turn out great for me is if they just decided to give me the job and are waiting until the 15th to let everyone - lil ol' me included - in on the wonderful news. Possible, I suppose, but doubtful.
So I've written that job off. Not gonna happen. Not in the stars. That's okay, though, because I'm willing to bet another resort somewhere will want another blogger; and when that day comes, I'll be armed with a possible cover story in a national trade magazine as a testament to the natural talents you lovely folk have come to appreciate. And with a little luck, it'll be a tropcial resort so my pasty white ass can get a tan. Or, more to the point, a sunburn that fades to a tan for 3.5 minutes before disappearing like a tattoo drawn in invisible ink. In the meantime, I have a good job that's paying my bills, a good group of people I don't mind spending 8 hours a day schlepping 55" TVs around for, and more opportunities on the horizon than I've had in a long time. If there's only one thing I could change right now, it's that I really could use a drink.
Hold on...there's beer in the fridge. German beer. The good stuff.
What am I doing talking to you crazy buggers, then?
G'night, gawkers.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Friday, December 3, 2010
Catching Up
OK, so it's been over a week since I last posted something. Sue me. I've been busy. I started a new job (seasonal, and retail, but it's a paycheck), got through the holiday (mostly by working) and have been prepping a freelance writing job that will translate into some real exposure...if I don't screw it up.
Still, in the interest of full disclosure, I guess it's time to share.
Hey, it's my blog. I'll write about what I want to write about. Don't like it? Go start your own blog and tell everyone what a lousy host I am.
So, the new job. As I said, it's a part-time seasonal stock job at the Sony store in Cherry Creek mall. It's about 32 hours per week at a time when any hours (even for just a week) are welcome. So far the job's been really cool, if not entirely busy. It's one of those jobs where you're glad you don't really get paid that much - the desire to buy everything in the store is pretty strong once you've stood amongst it all for eight hours. Trust me on this. Plus, carting out 55" LED TVs for people kinda makes you crave one of your own. Oh yes, Envy is a wicked mistress.
The people working there are all great. Haven't met a bad egg yet, to tell the truth. Not sure if that's a good thing or if I'm just slipping, but at this time in my life I'm willing to let it slide. The job's scheduled to end on or before Jan. 15, which works perfectly if Utah comes through. (More on that later.) I'm told I'm making a good impression with my hard work; to be honest, it's mostly so I don't end up standing on the sales floor with everybody else for an entire shift. Not saying they're not fun to talk to (they are), only that it's boring and makes for a really long day.
I started last Tuesday, two days before Thanksgiving. As I posted that Wednesday, I knew the holiday was going to be tough. And it was. Thankfully though, it went a lot smoother than I feared. There was an hour or so I had to go bury my head in the sand, but overall the day was good. I know next year will be better, and I'm definitely looking forward to that.
Now, about this freelance gig. I was up in Thornton a couple weeks ago helping my brother with some things. While there, I got a phone call from a gentleman who told me he got my name and number from a woman I've done some freelance work for in the past. This lady is also a former instructor of mine, and has been extremely helpful in getting my meager (to date) freelance career up and running. This fact alone convinced me I was going to take the job, regardless of what it turned out to be.
The guy who called is the editor of a trade journal that caters to ski resorts and other companies in the skiing/snowboarding industry. For one reason or another, a story his journal was working on lost its writer, and he needed a new one. So here it is - my first honest-to-goodness, professional writing assignment. I've been hired to write an estimated 1,500- to 2,000-word article on the advances in, and uses of, technology in ski resorts around the country. The journal gets first-publication rights, then those rights come back to me to be used however I choose. We're talking a byline in a trade journal here. Not exactly the public-at-large, but it's something I can take to any job in the future and show as evidence of my talents. (It turns out this blog, while insanely funny and full of nuanced character development, doesn't really qualify as solid journalistic experience. Personally, I call bullshit.)
So all in all, it's been a pretty solid week. The new job's going well, and the freelance gig is amazing. The only storm cloud on the horizon? Utah. Until about a week before Thanksgiving, if someone had asked me my chances of getting the job, I would have told them it was better than average. Then a funny thing happened. The video selection exploded and suddenly videos that had been ahead of me in both votes and views were now behind me...and my video started plummeting down the list like a lawn dart streaking toward the dirt. By the time the deadline hit on Thanksgiving Day, I found myself no longer in the Top 10 in either category. Still not sure what happened there, but it was humbling, I have to say. The final decision is being made on Dec. 15, which is now 12 days away. So far, no calls or emails for an interview. It could still happen, of course, but every day it doesn't my optimism levels drop just like that lawn dart. I know, without any hesitation or doubt, that I can win that job if I get the interview. But it's hard to convince someone when they don't want to talk to you. I'm hopeful, and will remain so until the 15th, but it's getting harder with each passing day.
But I digress...
To sum up: job's going very well, made it through the first of two holidays during my "rebirth", and I've got the makings of a great career start piled in various notes around my laptop. All things being equal, I can't really ask for much more than that.
And for right now, I'm not even going to try. I'll just end it here and keep y'all posted later. Til next time...
Still, in the interest of full disclosure, I guess it's time to share.
Hey, it's my blog. I'll write about what I want to write about. Don't like it? Go start your own blog and tell everyone what a lousy host I am.
So, the new job. As I said, it's a part-time seasonal stock job at the Sony store in Cherry Creek mall. It's about 32 hours per week at a time when any hours (even for just a week) are welcome. So far the job's been really cool, if not entirely busy. It's one of those jobs where you're glad you don't really get paid that much - the desire to buy everything in the store is pretty strong once you've stood amongst it all for eight hours. Trust me on this. Plus, carting out 55" LED TVs for people kinda makes you crave one of your own. Oh yes, Envy is a wicked mistress.
The people working there are all great. Haven't met a bad egg yet, to tell the truth. Not sure if that's a good thing or if I'm just slipping, but at this time in my life I'm willing to let it slide. The job's scheduled to end on or before Jan. 15, which works perfectly if Utah comes through. (More on that later.) I'm told I'm making a good impression with my hard work; to be honest, it's mostly so I don't end up standing on the sales floor with everybody else for an entire shift. Not saying they're not fun to talk to (they are), only that it's boring and makes for a really long day.
I started last Tuesday, two days before Thanksgiving. As I posted that Wednesday, I knew the holiday was going to be tough. And it was. Thankfully though, it went a lot smoother than I feared. There was an hour or so I had to go bury my head in the sand, but overall the day was good. I know next year will be better, and I'm definitely looking forward to that.
Now, about this freelance gig. I was up in Thornton a couple weeks ago helping my brother with some things. While there, I got a phone call from a gentleman who told me he got my name and number from a woman I've done some freelance work for in the past. This lady is also a former instructor of mine, and has been extremely helpful in getting my meager (to date) freelance career up and running. This fact alone convinced me I was going to take the job, regardless of what it turned out to be.
The guy who called is the editor of a trade journal that caters to ski resorts and other companies in the skiing/snowboarding industry. For one reason or another, a story his journal was working on lost its writer, and he needed a new one. So here it is - my first honest-to-goodness, professional writing assignment. I've been hired to write an estimated 1,500- to 2,000-word article on the advances in, and uses of, technology in ski resorts around the country. The journal gets first-publication rights, then those rights come back to me to be used however I choose. We're talking a byline in a trade journal here. Not exactly the public-at-large, but it's something I can take to any job in the future and show as evidence of my talents. (It turns out this blog, while insanely funny and full of nuanced character development, doesn't really qualify as solid journalistic experience. Personally, I call bullshit.)
So all in all, it's been a pretty solid week. The new job's going well, and the freelance gig is amazing. The only storm cloud on the horizon? Utah. Until about a week before Thanksgiving, if someone had asked me my chances of getting the job, I would have told them it was better than average. Then a funny thing happened. The video selection exploded and suddenly videos that had been ahead of me in both votes and views were now behind me...and my video started plummeting down the list like a lawn dart streaking toward the dirt. By the time the deadline hit on Thanksgiving Day, I found myself no longer in the Top 10 in either category. Still not sure what happened there, but it was humbling, I have to say. The final decision is being made on Dec. 15, which is now 12 days away. So far, no calls or emails for an interview. It could still happen, of course, but every day it doesn't my optimism levels drop just like that lawn dart. I know, without any hesitation or doubt, that I can win that job if I get the interview. But it's hard to convince someone when they don't want to talk to you. I'm hopeful, and will remain so until the 15th, but it's getting harder with each passing day.
But I digress...
To sum up: job's going very well, made it through the first of two holidays during my "rebirth", and I've got the makings of a great career start piled in various notes around my laptop. All things being equal, I can't really ask for much more than that.
And for right now, I'm not even going to try. I'll just end it here and keep y'all posted later. Til next time...
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Thanks...No, really, I mean it...
Ah, Thanksgiving.
It's either a joyous and timeless tradition of gathering, remembering, commemorating and togetherness, or a psychotic mess of nasty food, family squabbles and enough things-gone-wrong to give Murphy his own Law Book. For most people - usually and thankfully - the tradition is somewhere in the middle.
Whether your tradition is to celebrate by traveling hundreds or thousands of miles to eat your mom's stuffing and hear Uncle Jack's joke about the lady who walks into the hardware store with a live gerbil and a rubber spatula for the umpteenth time, or to spend a quiet evening out in a restaurant by yourself or with your significant other, Thanksgiving is something more than the traditional start of the holiday season. If New Year's and the Fourth of July are the party holidays, and Christmas is the now-overly-commercialized-to-the-point-we-don't-even-want-to-celebrate-it holiday, Thanksgiving is the spirit and ideal that drives us through the rest of the year while giving us a chance to look back fondly.
Usually. Some people are just too Type-A. Those people can't be helped, so I'm just talkin' about the rest of us. Y'know, the normal folk...
By this time, the holiday season has completely enveloped us, and traditions are as in full swing as pumpkin patches overflowing with ripe orange gourds and wild turkeys with death clocks faintly ticking down to doomsday above their spindly heads. So begins repeat visits to grocery stores for constantly-forgotten items that have since vanished from the shelves because they were also forgotten by 9,000 other people before you. We spend our days, and sometimes weeks, creating culinary game plans with the clockwork precision of military wargames. Checklists featuring everything from the savory to the sweet preoccupy our thoughts. Multiplying recipes, cooking times, quantities and transportation logistics take center stage in our thoughts. We become Rain Man in our ability to figure out how to cook a turkey while also heating up dinner rolls and making sure Aunt Betty's green bean casserole doesn't congeal like tiny twigs stuck in mud, all in the same tiny oven. Homes are cleaned just a little bit more than usual; pillows fluffed, furniture and knicks knacks moved for a more thorough vacuuming or dusting. Cobwebs we've ignored all year long suddenly vanish in a blurred tornado of arm movements and strained backs.
We know it's coming every year, yet every year it sneaks up on us. While some traditions need to die quick and violent deaths (we all have them or know of them, so I don't need to elaborate), some - like panicking a week before Thanksgiving because the only poultry left in the freezer section is a cornish game hen the size of a baseball that somehow has to magically feed 18 people - are just necessary for the true mean of "thanks giving" to come out.
Since I was a teenager, my mom has made Thanksgiving her holiday. Whether it was when I contemplated moving to Seattle for a job, or when my ex-wife and I talked about moving away for her career, my mom always made it clear that I had to be home for Thanksgiving. It was tradition. I was given a free pass to miss her birthday, Mother's Day and Christmas (not "miss" as in forget, "miss" as in I didn't have to come home. A phone call at the very least was still mandatory.) so long as my pasty white butt was seated at the dinner table on that particular Thursday.
Part of it's because she - like most moms - is big on the whole "family gathering" thing, but it's also because she hates the thought of anyone spending a holiday alone. If you have nowhere to go on Thanksgiving, my mom makes sure there's a spot for you at our table. It's been that way for years.
It's traditon.
It may have been the rule long before this, but I remember it really becoming a tried and true, dyed in the wool, set in stone Tradition-with-a-capital-T when my dad was stationed in Augsburg, Germany, back in the late 1980s. Dad was the NCOIC (non-commissioned officer in charge..."middle management" to the rest of us) of the emergency room at the army hospital, and as such had a lot of people working under him. When my parents found out that many of those people had no place to go for Thanksgiving, they opened our home to the lot of them. People brought their favorite dishes, and room was made on any open space available. No one was turned away, and no gesture of food was left untouched.
It was always an all-day event because some people worked in the morning (meaning they got out late and came over after) and some worked in the afternoon (meaning they came over before their shift). At one point, our three-bedroom apartment had around 50 men, women and children laughing, playing, eating and drinking all throughout the space. Kids congregated in my room or my brother's room, playing with Legos or whatever action figures we dug out of the closet (even the girls, who generally preferred the Legos to the G.I. Joes) while adults crowded the living room, kitchen and dining room. Everyone was happy, everyone had a good time.
Hard to not want to keep that kind of tradition alive, isn't it?
In the 25 years since, the number of people have dwindled, but it's still pretty large. Last year, we had in-laws for both Harper brothers, including the future in-laws of my in-laws so they didn't have to split up their family. This year we have some new faces coming...again, because they had nowhere else to go and my mom found out about it. We're looking at close to 30 people this year, but Thanksgiving's not until tomorrow, so who knows who else might show up. That's the fun of it, right?
The tragedy though, for me, is knowing how much this year is going to hurt. And it's going to hurt a lot.
Thanksgiving is a time to sit back and...well, give thanks for the people, things and events that have led us to this point in our lives. As I type this, though, I find myself not really in a thankful mood. If I sit back and look over the last year, I'm faced with a lot of heartache and pain: The loss of a child in the early stages of my now ex-wife's pregnancy, finding out my sister-in-law got pregnant mere months later, the dissolution of a three-year marriage, the subsequent moving back in to my parents home while I spent more than two months looking for a job, the birth of my niece, and watching my limited finances disappear just trying to keep up with bills.
Now, a lot of you will read this and tell me to get over myself, to think positive. I was told earlier today that I needed to focus on spending Thanksgiving with my family. But you know what? That's easier said than done. For starters, almost everyone who's going to be here tomorrow is in a working, committed marriage, while my divorce paperwork showed up in the mail yesterday. Great damn timing, that is. Also, I get to spend an entire day watching people gush and fawn over my niece, Ava. So while everyone's going on and on about the "first grandbaby" and talking about how beautiful and precious she is, I get to sit there and pretend none of that hurts. That Ava would actually be the second grandbaby, and that my child will never get to be gushed or fawned over, or told how beautiful and precious he/she is. And the best part? The absolutely heart-wrenching, soul-crushing best part? I get to go through all of this on my own. Completely alone. Why? Because the one person in my life who I thought would be by my side for better or worse, in sickness and in health, til death do us part, decided to walk out on our life together, and the final nail in that coffin just came in the mail.
So yeah, I'm a whole lotta thankful this year. I'm one big cornucopia of thankful. I'm a fucking buffet of things to be thankful for.
Am I thankful for my family and friends? Of course. Am I thankful that my niece - whom I adore with all my heart - is happy and healthy? You bet I am. Am I thankful I finally have a job and am able to pay my bills? Damn straight. But Thanksgiving is a time to spend enjoying the company of those most important to you, a time to look on those friends and family and realize how great it is to have people like that in your life. Not this year, though, and not for me. My life has been turned upside down and ripped into mangled shreds. Tomorrow, I won't see any good in that. The people around me won't help me take my mind off my problems, they will be unintentionally compounding them with every look and every laugh. Were I still married, if I had someone by my side I could lean on and give support back to, then tomorrow would be tolerable. As it is, I'll be spending Thanksgiving surrounded by the people I love the most, and completely unable to enjoy it.
Some traditions need to die quick and violent deaths. This is one of them.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. Whatever your tradition is, however you choose to spend the holiday, I hope and pray it is filled with all the love and happiness you deserve. I am truly thankful for all of you, and I apologize for not being able to express it better. We all deserve better than this; I'm just sorry I can't hold up my end of it.
It's either a joyous and timeless tradition of gathering, remembering, commemorating and togetherness, or a psychotic mess of nasty food, family squabbles and enough things-gone-wrong to give Murphy his own Law Book. For most people - usually and thankfully - the tradition is somewhere in the middle.
Whether your tradition is to celebrate by traveling hundreds or thousands of miles to eat your mom's stuffing and hear Uncle Jack's joke about the lady who walks into the hardware store with a live gerbil and a rubber spatula for the umpteenth time, or to spend a quiet evening out in a restaurant by yourself or with your significant other, Thanksgiving is something more than the traditional start of the holiday season. If New Year's and the Fourth of July are the party holidays, and Christmas is the now-overly-commercialized-to-the-point-we-don't-even-want-to-celebrate-it holiday, Thanksgiving is the spirit and ideal that drives us through the rest of the year while giving us a chance to look back fondly.
Usually. Some people are just too Type-A. Those people can't be helped, so I'm just talkin' about the rest of us. Y'know, the normal folk...
By this time, the holiday season has completely enveloped us, and traditions are as in full swing as pumpkin patches overflowing with ripe orange gourds and wild turkeys with death clocks faintly ticking down to doomsday above their spindly heads. So begins repeat visits to grocery stores for constantly-forgotten items that have since vanished from the shelves because they were also forgotten by 9,000 other people before you. We spend our days, and sometimes weeks, creating culinary game plans with the clockwork precision of military wargames. Checklists featuring everything from the savory to the sweet preoccupy our thoughts. Multiplying recipes, cooking times, quantities and transportation logistics take center stage in our thoughts. We become Rain Man in our ability to figure out how to cook a turkey while also heating up dinner rolls and making sure Aunt Betty's green bean casserole doesn't congeal like tiny twigs stuck in mud, all in the same tiny oven. Homes are cleaned just a little bit more than usual; pillows fluffed, furniture and knicks knacks moved for a more thorough vacuuming or dusting. Cobwebs we've ignored all year long suddenly vanish in a blurred tornado of arm movements and strained backs.
We know it's coming every year, yet every year it sneaks up on us. While some traditions need to die quick and violent deaths (we all have them or know of them, so I don't need to elaborate), some - like panicking a week before Thanksgiving because the only poultry left in the freezer section is a cornish game hen the size of a baseball that somehow has to magically feed 18 people - are just necessary for the true mean of "thanks giving" to come out.
Since I was a teenager, my mom has made Thanksgiving her holiday. Whether it was when I contemplated moving to Seattle for a job, or when my ex-wife and I talked about moving away for her career, my mom always made it clear that I had to be home for Thanksgiving. It was tradition. I was given a free pass to miss her birthday, Mother's Day and Christmas (not "miss" as in forget, "miss" as in I didn't have to come home. A phone call at the very least was still mandatory.) so long as my pasty white butt was seated at the dinner table on that particular Thursday.
Part of it's because she - like most moms - is big on the whole "family gathering" thing, but it's also because she hates the thought of anyone spending a holiday alone. If you have nowhere to go on Thanksgiving, my mom makes sure there's a spot for you at our table. It's been that way for years.
It's traditon.
It may have been the rule long before this, but I remember it really becoming a tried and true, dyed in the wool, set in stone Tradition-with-a-capital-T when my dad was stationed in Augsburg, Germany, back in the late 1980s. Dad was the NCOIC (non-commissioned officer in charge..."middle management" to the rest of us) of the emergency room at the army hospital, and as such had a lot of people working under him. When my parents found out that many of those people had no place to go for Thanksgiving, they opened our home to the lot of them. People brought their favorite dishes, and room was made on any open space available. No one was turned away, and no gesture of food was left untouched.
It was always an all-day event because some people worked in the morning (meaning they got out late and came over after) and some worked in the afternoon (meaning they came over before their shift). At one point, our three-bedroom apartment had around 50 men, women and children laughing, playing, eating and drinking all throughout the space. Kids congregated in my room or my brother's room, playing with Legos or whatever action figures we dug out of the closet (even the girls, who generally preferred the Legos to the G.I. Joes) while adults crowded the living room, kitchen and dining room. Everyone was happy, everyone had a good time.
Hard to not want to keep that kind of tradition alive, isn't it?
In the 25 years since, the number of people have dwindled, but it's still pretty large. Last year, we had in-laws for both Harper brothers, including the future in-laws of my in-laws so they didn't have to split up their family. This year we have some new faces coming...again, because they had nowhere else to go and my mom found out about it. We're looking at close to 30 people this year, but Thanksgiving's not until tomorrow, so who knows who else might show up. That's the fun of it, right?
The tragedy though, for me, is knowing how much this year is going to hurt. And it's going to hurt a lot.
Thanksgiving is a time to sit back and...well, give thanks for the people, things and events that have led us to this point in our lives. As I type this, though, I find myself not really in a thankful mood. If I sit back and look over the last year, I'm faced with a lot of heartache and pain: The loss of a child in the early stages of my now ex-wife's pregnancy, finding out my sister-in-law got pregnant mere months later, the dissolution of a three-year marriage, the subsequent moving back in to my parents home while I spent more than two months looking for a job, the birth of my niece, and watching my limited finances disappear just trying to keep up with bills.
Now, a lot of you will read this and tell me to get over myself, to think positive. I was told earlier today that I needed to focus on spending Thanksgiving with my family. But you know what? That's easier said than done. For starters, almost everyone who's going to be here tomorrow is in a working, committed marriage, while my divorce paperwork showed up in the mail yesterday. Great damn timing, that is. Also, I get to spend an entire day watching people gush and fawn over my niece, Ava. So while everyone's going on and on about the "first grandbaby" and talking about how beautiful and precious she is, I get to sit there and pretend none of that hurts. That Ava would actually be the second grandbaby, and that my child will never get to be gushed or fawned over, or told how beautiful and precious he/she is. And the best part? The absolutely heart-wrenching, soul-crushing best part? I get to go through all of this on my own. Completely alone. Why? Because the one person in my life who I thought would be by my side for better or worse, in sickness and in health, til death do us part, decided to walk out on our life together, and the final nail in that coffin just came in the mail.
So yeah, I'm a whole lotta thankful this year. I'm one big cornucopia of thankful. I'm a fucking buffet of things to be thankful for.
Am I thankful for my family and friends? Of course. Am I thankful that my niece - whom I adore with all my heart - is happy and healthy? You bet I am. Am I thankful I finally have a job and am able to pay my bills? Damn straight. But Thanksgiving is a time to spend enjoying the company of those most important to you, a time to look on those friends and family and realize how great it is to have people like that in your life. Not this year, though, and not for me. My life has been turned upside down and ripped into mangled shreds. Tomorrow, I won't see any good in that. The people around me won't help me take my mind off my problems, they will be unintentionally compounding them with every look and every laugh. Were I still married, if I had someone by my side I could lean on and give support back to, then tomorrow would be tolerable. As it is, I'll be spending Thanksgiving surrounded by the people I love the most, and completely unable to enjoy it.
Some traditions need to die quick and violent deaths. This is one of them.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. Whatever your tradition is, however you choose to spend the holiday, I hope and pray it is filled with all the love and happiness you deserve. I am truly thankful for all of you, and I apologize for not being able to express it better. We all deserve better than this; I'm just sorry I can't hold up my end of it.
Friday, November 19, 2010
The Job @ Hand
Jobs are tricky things. In this day and age, everyone needs at least one.
There are the jobs that we'd like to have, and there are the jobs we have to have. In a minority of instances, those two concepts merge, and a person finds a jobs they love. The Dream Job. Doesn't happen very often, but it's a beautiful thing when it does. Unless that person rubs it in your face; then they're just a douche in need of a good punch to some place vital...like a rib, or the ball sack.
As with everything else in our existence, we've broken the notion of "jobs" into many categories: Full-time, part-time, blue collar, white collar, seasonal, temporary, entry level, and middle management, just to name a few. These can be, and often are, combined, altered, adjusted or eliminated. We've also devised new and not-always-interesting ways to describe our jobs: Administrative Assistant, Custodial Engineer, and Refuse Collection Specialist are some of my favorite examples. Many of us bring our work home with us, while most of us just like to rehash the day's, or week's, events over a round of liquid courage.
Some people stay at their jobs for years; others bounce between jobs like a puppy trying to choose a favorite toy. Some of us wear ties every day; a lucky few get to tie one on. Jobs can be inside high rises, strip malls and office parks. Jobs can be outside in glorious sunshine, dreary thunderstorms or frigid snowfall. Some people can make lots of money in just a few short months; most of us go a lifetime without so much as an extra zero appearing on our bank accounts.
They're cursed things, jobs are. It's a love/hate relationship unlike any other. We may like the people we work with, we may like the type of work we do, we may like the pay - or the benefits and bonuses - and we may like the hours. But, if it came down to it, a lot of us would rather spend our days lounging on a beach, or a mountaintop, or in a field of gently-swaying grass staring at bunny clouds and jet trails. If money wasn't an issue, how many of us would actually work our day away? I sure as hell wouldn't, and I'm betting the lot of you would be right there with me.
Now, I'm not talking about not doing something with your time, like learning a foreign language or painting bowls of fruit or reading the world's collection of great books. I'm talking about W-2s and direct deposit, "business casual" and casual Fridays, quarterly assessments and end-of-year reviews, pay raises and 401(k)s. I'm talking about Work, with a capital W. Regardless of what you do, how many people would continue doing it if they didn't need to do it? If the planet became a utopia overnight and suddenly the masses didn't need money to acquire the things they need and/or want, how many of us would put in the hours we do now?
I'm guessing some of you are saying you would, and you may be right. For a while. But I guarantee after watching us slackasses cavorting around you, you'd become one of us before too long.
And let's not get started on the whole "winning the lottery" joke, okay?
We've now reached the point of the story where you, my loyal followers, politely yet sternly ask, "What's your point here, dude?" Over the last week I've had a lot happen with regard to the word "jobs" and now things have culminated with not one, but two incredible writing job possibilities. And either - or, Fate willing, both - could be the start of something big.
Before we get to dream jobs, though, let's start with real-world stuff. Back in March, I had a part-time job. I took it to earn a little extra money for the wife and I; mostly because I felt like a slacker just sitting at home and going to school, but also because a little extra money's never a bad thing. The truth is I only took the job because the wife also worked there part-time, and she convinced me that working together would be fun. And she was right. It was. Until things started getting bad at home. Suddenly, working around people who got along with my wife better than I did made it not such a fun place to work. So I quit. It didn't matter if anyone there knew what was going on; I knew, and I didn't want to look at those people anymore. In hindsight, having spent the last three months trying to find anything to bring home a paycheck, I should've stayed. I didn't, and that's my cross to bear.
That being said, I've looked at everything. You know those categories I listed at the start of this thing? Yeah, I looked at every single one of them. My skill set covers writing and editing, clerical and office, shipping operations, and warehouse and stockroom management. You'd think someone who's reasonably intelligent, willing to work hard, and - perhaps most importantly - not friggin' picky would be able to find something in three months. Turns out, you'd be wrong. Every part-time, full-time, seasonal, temporary and contract job available that appeared even remotely in my wheelhouse was applied for. The only nibble I got was about a month ago when I interviewed with AAA Colorado for a mailroom/stockroom manager position. Didn't pan out, so here I am.
Last week, I got a call from a corporate HR person for Sony retail stores. I'd applied to be a seasonal stock clerk for the Cherry Creek location about a month ago, and they were just now getting back to me. Can't imagine how many resumes they had to sort through before they realized mine was pretty damn good, but I'm glad they stuck with it. I completed all of their online paperwork and scheduled the interview with the local store manager. About five seconds into the interview, I knew I had the job. It helped that the guy actually said, "If it was up to me, I'd start you tomorrow." But of course, there are pesky things like drug tests and background checks to go through first, which brings me to the Funny portion of today's blog.
Drug tests are pretty darn simple. You go into a medical office, pee into a container, and pray your poppy seed bagel from two days ago won't screw your chances. I got the paperwork for my drug screening location on Tuesday and immediately went to have it done. This was around 1 p.m. As I'm walking down the hall to the door, a lady comes out, walks passed me, and says, "It's busy in there." Um...crap. This doesn't bode well. Sure enough, it was busy. I signed in, sat down, and prepared myself for the long wait. That is, until seven minutes later when someone else walked in and asked the lady behind the counter what to do. She told him to sign in, but that it was about a - are you ready for this? - two-hour wait! But wait, my story gets better. Not only that, but the lady behind the counter was the only person working the lab. The entire lab. As in, she had to check people in and do their visits to boot. Oh, and there was also that teensy little issue of her leaving at 2:30 p.m. because she had somewhere else to be.
Confused? Let me make this simpler. A lady working solo in a medical lab had patients backing her up to a two-hour-plus wait, but planned on closing the lab in ninety minutes to leave for the day because she had "somewhere else to be" later.
I got up, scratched my name off the sign-in sheet, and left.
Wednesday I got up, showered and left the house. It was my mom's birthday, so my brother and I were taking her out for lunch at 1 p.m., and my brother was meeting me at the house at 12:30 p.m. That gave me two-and-a-half hours to sit in the lab and get my pee on. Alas, when I got there the wait was just as long as before. To top it off, I finally got a look at the sign outside the main door. (Someone had been standing in front of it on Tuesday while yammering on a cell phone.) The lab was open from 7 a.m. to 2:30 p.m., but only did drug screenings from 8 -10, and from 12:30 - 2:30. It was already 10 a.m. Without even bothering to sign in, I left.
Lunch, btw, was best summed-up by the appetizer we shared: Deep-Fried Green Chili stuffed with Mac & Cheese. It. Was. Awesome!
But I digress...
How's this story end? With my getting up at 6 a.m. yesterday, getting to the lab before seven, waiting for the one person ahead of me to be seen, and being done and out the door by 7:30 and home before eight. Ah, the joys of having to pee into a cup for a job.
Now we get to the meat of the story. I know what you're thinkin'..."way to bury the lead, Harper." Fair assessment, but inaccurate. Since the "job" I'm ultimately looking for is Paid Writer, I was building up to the Good News: I may have a job. Not a "job" like "part-time seasonal stock clerk for Sony", but a Job like "paid to write a story, have a byline and have said story seen by a target audience." That's a lot better. I can't really talk about it too much right now, but once I can y'all will be the first ones outside of my family and friends to know...though you'll probably see it on Facebook long before you read about it here.
All this, naturally, begs the question, "Why bring it up if you're going to be so secretive?" And while I applaud your perceptive and quizzical nature, I laugh bemusedly at your lack of vision. The Job in question has deep connections to the ski industry. Not just in Colorado, but nationally. As in "other states besides Colorado." As in "also including Utah." Which, if you've been following this blog (and I see no reason why you shouldn't be...) is where the Ultimate Mountain Gig is being held. The Job should take about a month, which is plenty of time to get the people at The Canyons to check it out and see just how capable their new blogger is going to be.
You see where I'm going with this now, don't you? Fate is calling, and for once I'm not sitting on the toilet and singing "Another One Bites the Dust" with my boxers warming my ankles. Everything is lining up nicely, even if none of it has actually fallen into place just yet. They say that in this day and age it isn't what you know, but who you know. I don't normally agree with that ideaology; truthfully, it doesn't matter who you know if you're not competent enough to do the job...unless you're in politics, apparently. But now, I'm starting to see the benefit. I've made some great contacts in the last eight months, and those contacts will be leading to more and more, helping me create a network of people and businesses from whom I can get not just steady employment, but valuable information and skills to be used in later assignments.
In other words, if the next month or so works out, then by this time next year I won't need to pee in a cup for a seasonal stock job. And that, I'm proud to say, is my idea of a "dream job."
Though staring at bunny clouds sounds nice, too.
There are the jobs that we'd like to have, and there are the jobs we have to have. In a minority of instances, those two concepts merge, and a person finds a jobs they love. The Dream Job. Doesn't happen very often, but it's a beautiful thing when it does. Unless that person rubs it in your face; then they're just a douche in need of a good punch to some place vital...like a rib, or the ball sack.
As with everything else in our existence, we've broken the notion of "jobs" into many categories: Full-time, part-time, blue collar, white collar, seasonal, temporary, entry level, and middle management, just to name a few. These can be, and often are, combined, altered, adjusted or eliminated. We've also devised new and not-always-interesting ways to describe our jobs: Administrative Assistant, Custodial Engineer, and Refuse Collection Specialist are some of my favorite examples. Many of us bring our work home with us, while most of us just like to rehash the day's, or week's, events over a round of liquid courage.
Some people stay at their jobs for years; others bounce between jobs like a puppy trying to choose a favorite toy. Some of us wear ties every day; a lucky few get to tie one on. Jobs can be inside high rises, strip malls and office parks. Jobs can be outside in glorious sunshine, dreary thunderstorms or frigid snowfall. Some people can make lots of money in just a few short months; most of us go a lifetime without so much as an extra zero appearing on our bank accounts.
They're cursed things, jobs are. It's a love/hate relationship unlike any other. We may like the people we work with, we may like the type of work we do, we may like the pay - or the benefits and bonuses - and we may like the hours. But, if it came down to it, a lot of us would rather spend our days lounging on a beach, or a mountaintop, or in a field of gently-swaying grass staring at bunny clouds and jet trails. If money wasn't an issue, how many of us would actually work our day away? I sure as hell wouldn't, and I'm betting the lot of you would be right there with me.
Now, I'm not talking about not doing something with your time, like learning a foreign language or painting bowls of fruit or reading the world's collection of great books. I'm talking about W-2s and direct deposit, "business casual" and casual Fridays, quarterly assessments and end-of-year reviews, pay raises and 401(k)s. I'm talking about Work, with a capital W. Regardless of what you do, how many people would continue doing it if they didn't need to do it? If the planet became a utopia overnight and suddenly the masses didn't need money to acquire the things they need and/or want, how many of us would put in the hours we do now?
I'm guessing some of you are saying you would, and you may be right. For a while. But I guarantee after watching us slackasses cavorting around you, you'd become one of us before too long.
And let's not get started on the whole "winning the lottery" joke, okay?
We've now reached the point of the story where you, my loyal followers, politely yet sternly ask, "What's your point here, dude?" Over the last week I've had a lot happen with regard to the word "jobs" and now things have culminated with not one, but two incredible writing job possibilities. And either - or, Fate willing, both - could be the start of something big.
Before we get to dream jobs, though, let's start with real-world stuff. Back in March, I had a part-time job. I took it to earn a little extra money for the wife and I; mostly because I felt like a slacker just sitting at home and going to school, but also because a little extra money's never a bad thing. The truth is I only took the job because the wife also worked there part-time, and she convinced me that working together would be fun. And she was right. It was. Until things started getting bad at home. Suddenly, working around people who got along with my wife better than I did made it not such a fun place to work. So I quit. It didn't matter if anyone there knew what was going on; I knew, and I didn't want to look at those people anymore. In hindsight, having spent the last three months trying to find anything to bring home a paycheck, I should've stayed. I didn't, and that's my cross to bear.
That being said, I've looked at everything. You know those categories I listed at the start of this thing? Yeah, I looked at every single one of them. My skill set covers writing and editing, clerical and office, shipping operations, and warehouse and stockroom management. You'd think someone who's reasonably intelligent, willing to work hard, and - perhaps most importantly - not friggin' picky would be able to find something in three months. Turns out, you'd be wrong. Every part-time, full-time, seasonal, temporary and contract job available that appeared even remotely in my wheelhouse was applied for. The only nibble I got was about a month ago when I interviewed with AAA Colorado for a mailroom/stockroom manager position. Didn't pan out, so here I am.
Last week, I got a call from a corporate HR person for Sony retail stores. I'd applied to be a seasonal stock clerk for the Cherry Creek location about a month ago, and they were just now getting back to me. Can't imagine how many resumes they had to sort through before they realized mine was pretty damn good, but I'm glad they stuck with it. I completed all of their online paperwork and scheduled the interview with the local store manager. About five seconds into the interview, I knew I had the job. It helped that the guy actually said, "If it was up to me, I'd start you tomorrow." But of course, there are pesky things like drug tests and background checks to go through first, which brings me to the Funny portion of today's blog.
Drug tests are pretty darn simple. You go into a medical office, pee into a container, and pray your poppy seed bagel from two days ago won't screw your chances. I got the paperwork for my drug screening location on Tuesday and immediately went to have it done. This was around 1 p.m. As I'm walking down the hall to the door, a lady comes out, walks passed me, and says, "It's busy in there." Um...crap. This doesn't bode well. Sure enough, it was busy. I signed in, sat down, and prepared myself for the long wait. That is, until seven minutes later when someone else walked in and asked the lady behind the counter what to do. She told him to sign in, but that it was about a - are you ready for this? - two-hour wait! But wait, my story gets better. Not only that, but the lady behind the counter was the only person working the lab. The entire lab. As in, she had to check people in and do their visits to boot. Oh, and there was also that teensy little issue of her leaving at 2:30 p.m. because she had somewhere else to be.
Confused? Let me make this simpler. A lady working solo in a medical lab had patients backing her up to a two-hour-plus wait, but planned on closing the lab in ninety minutes to leave for the day because she had "somewhere else to be" later.
I got up, scratched my name off the sign-in sheet, and left.
Wednesday I got up, showered and left the house. It was my mom's birthday, so my brother and I were taking her out for lunch at 1 p.m., and my brother was meeting me at the house at 12:30 p.m. That gave me two-and-a-half hours to sit in the lab and get my pee on. Alas, when I got there the wait was just as long as before. To top it off, I finally got a look at the sign outside the main door. (Someone had been standing in front of it on Tuesday while yammering on a cell phone.) The lab was open from 7 a.m. to 2:30 p.m., but only did drug screenings from 8 -10, and from 12:30 - 2:30. It was already 10 a.m. Without even bothering to sign in, I left.
Lunch, btw, was best summed-up by the appetizer we shared: Deep-Fried Green Chili stuffed with Mac & Cheese. It. Was. Awesome!
But I digress...
How's this story end? With my getting up at 6 a.m. yesterday, getting to the lab before seven, waiting for the one person ahead of me to be seen, and being done and out the door by 7:30 and home before eight. Ah, the joys of having to pee into a cup for a job.
Now we get to the meat of the story. I know what you're thinkin'..."way to bury the lead, Harper." Fair assessment, but inaccurate. Since the "job" I'm ultimately looking for is Paid Writer, I was building up to the Good News: I may have a job. Not a "job" like "part-time seasonal stock clerk for Sony", but a Job like "paid to write a story, have a byline and have said story seen by a target audience." That's a lot better. I can't really talk about it too much right now, but once I can y'all will be the first ones outside of my family and friends to know...though you'll probably see it on Facebook long before you read about it here.
All this, naturally, begs the question, "Why bring it up if you're going to be so secretive?" And while I applaud your perceptive and quizzical nature, I laugh bemusedly at your lack of vision. The Job in question has deep connections to the ski industry. Not just in Colorado, but nationally. As in "other states besides Colorado." As in "also including Utah." Which, if you've been following this blog (and I see no reason why you shouldn't be...) is where the Ultimate Mountain Gig is being held. The Job should take about a month, which is plenty of time to get the people at The Canyons to check it out and see just how capable their new blogger is going to be.
You see where I'm going with this now, don't you? Fate is calling, and for once I'm not sitting on the toilet and singing "Another One Bites the Dust" with my boxers warming my ankles. Everything is lining up nicely, even if none of it has actually fallen into place just yet. They say that in this day and age it isn't what you know, but who you know. I don't normally agree with that ideaology; truthfully, it doesn't matter who you know if you're not competent enough to do the job...unless you're in politics, apparently. But now, I'm starting to see the benefit. I've made some great contacts in the last eight months, and those contacts will be leading to more and more, helping me create a network of people and businesses from whom I can get not just steady employment, but valuable information and skills to be used in later assignments.
In other words, if the next month or so works out, then by this time next year I won't need to pee in a cup for a seasonal stock job. And that, I'm proud to say, is my idea of a "dream job."
Though staring at bunny clouds sounds nice, too.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Family Ties
I never grew up close to my family. My extended family, that is. I grew up with my parents and brother, but since my dad was in the army, I never really knew my aunts, uncles and cousins. Every couple of years, whenever Dad got a new assignment and we moved again, we always seemed to find time to go back to Ohio and see the family. That was always a blast; it was like a vacation to where some of your best friends were staying. I may not have known every detail of their lives, but they were my family, and it was always good to see family.
As I got older (I'd be lying if I said I "grew up"), and as my immediate family and I settled in Denver, going back home to Ohio to see family became...not a chore, or a hassle, but, in a word, unimportant. When we moved here, I was just out of high school, aimless and clueless. (Sadly, for nearly 20 years after, that didn't change.) I was more focused on trying to figure my life out than I was with figuring out someone else's. Even if they were family. By the time I reached my late 20s, I'd settled into a groove - a repetitive, boring, stagnant and ugly groove. Family was something that came up around Thanksgiving and Christmas; occasional phone calls and emails that - unless something tragic happened - mostly served as a reminder that everyone out east was alive and doing well, and they were making sure you were doing the same.
When I got married in 2007, one of the many trips we had planned on taking was to Ohio. When I got married in Las Vegas (and trust me, there's lots of material in that scenario...) I was fotunate enough to have a large chunk of my family come out and celebrate with us. For those that came, we wanted to return the favor by going out and seeing them; for those who couldn't make it, I wanted to show off my lovely bride and our happy marriage. Three years, a couple of moves and one divorce later, we never did make it out there. My mom's sisters came out earlier this year, so that was a fun time. But now? Well, Facebook takes care of most of it, but I'd still like to get back out there and see everyone face-to-face. Especially the ones I haven't seen in years, which is a long list, unfortunately.
So by now, you're probably wondering, "Where are you going with this, dude?" It's a fair question, and one I aim to address in due time. For the last week, my cousin Aaron has been in town to help promote a film in which he's co-starring. "The Rock and Roll Dreams of Duncan Christopher" is an independent feature that's been making the festival rounds nationally and internationally to some pretty awesome reviews, and was shown at the Starz Denver Film Festival just this weekend. The film is about facing fears, facing reality and realizing that what you want isn't always what you need.
Of course, that's my intrepretation. Others may, and probably will, vary.
My parents and I went to the Saturday night showing to help support Aaron and the film. The evening was lots of fun, and the film itself was great. Incredibly solid stuff on both sides of the camera; and that's good, because going in, we had no idea what to expect. We weren't nervous, though. We were hopeful. And our hopes were pleasantly rewarded. Following the film, there was a Q&A with some of the cast and crew. I want everyone to check out why so many people, myself now firmly included, are finding this wonderful film Simply Irresistible.
On Sunday, while Aaron was preoccupied while festival business, Dad and I were content to deal with football business. Mom, as usual, found other ways to kill time. On Monday, however, the burgeoning film powerhouse that is my cousin found time to mingle amongst the common people and join his family for dinner. That was followed by a quiet evening at home, where Aaron got to finally unwind a little after a long and winding journey.
Then came today. While the rest of the family had to work, Aaron and I got to spend some quality time together - something we both realized we hadn't done in probably close to 20 years. We started the morning off by Skyping with his lovely wife Justine and their adorable daughter Luna, then attempted to have breakfast at Watercourse Foods downtown. They were closed. Aaron was disappointed. Something about a chocolate milkshake, I think. Not quite sure there.
Anyway, we ended up at City O' City, which apparently is owned by the same company as Watercourse. Aaron knew that, I didn't. Leave it to the guy just passing through to show up the long-time resident. Two sweet potato cinnamon rolls, one vegan empanada, one coffee concoction and one biscuit & gravy later (I'll leave you to guess who had which...), the two of us had managed to catch up on a lifetime of history and talked about our goals for the future. It was a perfect end to a great visit, and I hope my cousin had as much fun hanging out today as I did.
Which, of course, is the whole point of today's entry. Family. But also something else. Something much more personal. Thirteen years ago, I stopped writing. Quit cold turkey. Doesn't matter why, it was still the single biggest mistake of my life. Back then, the reasons seemed so clear as to border on transparent. Unfortunately, filtered through a decade-plus of hindsight, that's exactly what they were: Transparent. I regretted it every day since, but I could not bring myself to start up again. I wasn't good enough, I wasn't dedicated enough, I wasn't lucky enough. There were plenty of excuses. It was all bogus; I know that. I knew it then, too. Still, it wasn't until March of this year that I finally broke through that cursed wall, pulled my head from my butt, and got the ball rolling again. Since March, I haven't looked back. Just the opposite, in fact. I've begun expanding my horizons, strengthening my skill set to include not just fiction, but the whole spectrum of the written word.
Will any of it pan out?
Who cares?
And that, too, is what this entry is all about. It's something that came up while Aaron and I were talking about everything that I've gone through the last few months. When I stopped writing thirteen years ago, I did it because, in the back of my mind, I knew I'd have another shot. When I started writing again eight months ago, I did it because I knew, in the back of my mind, that I would never have another shot. This was it. I'd pissed away thirteen years because I was afraid. That wasn't going to happen again. I didn't realize it at the time, but Aaron reminded me of it today. You write for yourself, he told me. In 1997, when I gave up the only dream I had, I'd forgotten. In 2010, when the dam burst, I suddenly remembered. I wasn't writing because I wanted everyone to like it (well, I do, but you know what I mean...I hope), I was writing because I loved it. And I missed it. I missed the pen gripped in my hand, the feel of the paper underneath, and the release I got from taking random thoughts in my head and transferring them through that pen onto that paper. I missed every single thing about it, and I knew that if I stopped this time, I'd never do it again. This is my only shot at a second chance, and I will never again forget why I'm doing it.
That's why I want the Utah job so badly. This is a chance to really get my hands dirty, so to speak. It's not only a chance to get on with my life and experience new things, it's a chance to get my voice heard in one of the coolest venues available. Do I ski or snowboard? Nope. But I'm dying to tell people how awesome it is learning at The Canyons Resort in Park City, Utah. I'm jazzed to show video of my clumsy ass falling over and over and over and over again while I learn. I'm stoked to a level I would have thought impossible ten years ago. But I'm not stopping there. The half-completed first draft of my first novel has been dug out of storage and is sitting next to me waiting to be resumed. I'm looking into writing competitions for the next three months, and I'm trying my hand at short story and mini-story writing. Add this blog to that list, and I've become a regular writing fanatic!
This is the next stage of my life, and I plan to make it count. I screwed up the first stage, and I thought the second stage was going to last longer than three years. It didn't, and not a day passes that I don't want that back. But I know it's gone for good, one way or another. No use looking back. Today, the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. One last little stroke completed the picture that began eight months and one marriage ago. All I needed to help find it was a day spent with family.
Thank you, Aaron. You didn't help me see the light, but you helped me take the thoughts in my head and get them put into words. For a writer, that's what it's all about. Best of luck to you, bud.
As I got older (I'd be lying if I said I "grew up"), and as my immediate family and I settled in Denver, going back home to Ohio to see family became...not a chore, or a hassle, but, in a word, unimportant. When we moved here, I was just out of high school, aimless and clueless. (Sadly, for nearly 20 years after, that didn't change.) I was more focused on trying to figure my life out than I was with figuring out someone else's. Even if they were family. By the time I reached my late 20s, I'd settled into a groove - a repetitive, boring, stagnant and ugly groove. Family was something that came up around Thanksgiving and Christmas; occasional phone calls and emails that - unless something tragic happened - mostly served as a reminder that everyone out east was alive and doing well, and they were making sure you were doing the same.
When I got married in 2007, one of the many trips we had planned on taking was to Ohio. When I got married in Las Vegas (and trust me, there's lots of material in that scenario...) I was fotunate enough to have a large chunk of my family come out and celebrate with us. For those that came, we wanted to return the favor by going out and seeing them; for those who couldn't make it, I wanted to show off my lovely bride and our happy marriage. Three years, a couple of moves and one divorce later, we never did make it out there. My mom's sisters came out earlier this year, so that was a fun time. But now? Well, Facebook takes care of most of it, but I'd still like to get back out there and see everyone face-to-face. Especially the ones I haven't seen in years, which is a long list, unfortunately.
So by now, you're probably wondering, "Where are you going with this, dude?" It's a fair question, and one I aim to address in due time. For the last week, my cousin Aaron has been in town to help promote a film in which he's co-starring. "The Rock and Roll Dreams of Duncan Christopher" is an independent feature that's been making the festival rounds nationally and internationally to some pretty awesome reviews, and was shown at the Starz Denver Film Festival just this weekend. The film is about facing fears, facing reality and realizing that what you want isn't always what you need.
Of course, that's my intrepretation. Others may, and probably will, vary.
My parents and I went to the Saturday night showing to help support Aaron and the film. The evening was lots of fun, and the film itself was great. Incredibly solid stuff on both sides of the camera; and that's good, because going in, we had no idea what to expect. We weren't nervous, though. We were hopeful. And our hopes were pleasantly rewarded. Following the film, there was a Q&A with some of the cast and crew. I want everyone to check out why so many people, myself now firmly included, are finding this wonderful film Simply Irresistible.
L - R: Simply Irresistible (The Dragon); cinematographer Luc Nicknair; writer,
co-producer and star Jack Roberts; director and co-producer Justin Monroe;
and an unidentified staff member of the Starz Film Festival
On Sunday, while Aaron was preoccupied while festival business, Dad and I were content to deal with football business. Mom, as usual, found other ways to kill time. On Monday, however, the burgeoning film powerhouse that is my cousin found time to mingle amongst the common people and join his family for dinner. That was followed by a quiet evening at home, where Aaron got to finally unwind a little after a long and winding journey.
Then came today. While the rest of the family had to work, Aaron and I got to spend some quality time together - something we both realized we hadn't done in probably close to 20 years. We started the morning off by Skyping with his lovely wife Justine and their adorable daughter Luna, then attempted to have breakfast at Watercourse Foods downtown. They were closed. Aaron was disappointed. Something about a chocolate milkshake, I think. Not quite sure there.
Anyway, we ended up at City O' City, which apparently is owned by the same company as Watercourse. Aaron knew that, I didn't. Leave it to the guy just passing through to show up the long-time resident. Two sweet potato cinnamon rolls, one vegan empanada, one coffee concoction and one biscuit & gravy later (I'll leave you to guess who had which...), the two of us had managed to catch up on a lifetime of history and talked about our goals for the future. It was a perfect end to a great visit, and I hope my cousin had as much fun hanging out today as I did.
Which, of course, is the whole point of today's entry. Family. But also something else. Something much more personal. Thirteen years ago, I stopped writing. Quit cold turkey. Doesn't matter why, it was still the single biggest mistake of my life. Back then, the reasons seemed so clear as to border on transparent. Unfortunately, filtered through a decade-plus of hindsight, that's exactly what they were: Transparent. I regretted it every day since, but I could not bring myself to start up again. I wasn't good enough, I wasn't dedicated enough, I wasn't lucky enough. There were plenty of excuses. It was all bogus; I know that. I knew it then, too. Still, it wasn't until March of this year that I finally broke through that cursed wall, pulled my head from my butt, and got the ball rolling again. Since March, I haven't looked back. Just the opposite, in fact. I've begun expanding my horizons, strengthening my skill set to include not just fiction, but the whole spectrum of the written word.
Will any of it pan out?
Who cares?
And that, too, is what this entry is all about. It's something that came up while Aaron and I were talking about everything that I've gone through the last few months. When I stopped writing thirteen years ago, I did it because, in the back of my mind, I knew I'd have another shot. When I started writing again eight months ago, I did it because I knew, in the back of my mind, that I would never have another shot. This was it. I'd pissed away thirteen years because I was afraid. That wasn't going to happen again. I didn't realize it at the time, but Aaron reminded me of it today. You write for yourself, he told me. In 1997, when I gave up the only dream I had, I'd forgotten. In 2010, when the dam burst, I suddenly remembered. I wasn't writing because I wanted everyone to like it (well, I do, but you know what I mean...I hope), I was writing because I loved it. And I missed it. I missed the pen gripped in my hand, the feel of the paper underneath, and the release I got from taking random thoughts in my head and transferring them through that pen onto that paper. I missed every single thing about it, and I knew that if I stopped this time, I'd never do it again. This is my only shot at a second chance, and I will never again forget why I'm doing it.
That's why I want the Utah job so badly. This is a chance to really get my hands dirty, so to speak. It's not only a chance to get on with my life and experience new things, it's a chance to get my voice heard in one of the coolest venues available. Do I ski or snowboard? Nope. But I'm dying to tell people how awesome it is learning at The Canyons Resort in Park City, Utah. I'm jazzed to show video of my clumsy ass falling over and over and over and over again while I learn. I'm stoked to a level I would have thought impossible ten years ago. But I'm not stopping there. The half-completed first draft of my first novel has been dug out of storage and is sitting next to me waiting to be resumed. I'm looking into writing competitions for the next three months, and I'm trying my hand at short story and mini-story writing. Add this blog to that list, and I've become a regular writing fanatic!
This is the next stage of my life, and I plan to make it count. I screwed up the first stage, and I thought the second stage was going to last longer than three years. It didn't, and not a day passes that I don't want that back. But I know it's gone for good, one way or another. No use looking back. Today, the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. One last little stroke completed the picture that began eight months and one marriage ago. All I needed to help find it was a day spent with family.
Thank you, Aaron. You didn't help me see the light, but you helped me take the thoughts in my head and get them put into words. For a writer, that's what it's all about. Best of luck to you, bud.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
All Hallowed Out...
Halloween. The time of year when everything macabre, scary, ghastly, frightening and terrifying is given a welcome leave of absence from the tortured depths of our subconscious and allowed free reign in the real world. It's the season when ghosts, goblins, monsters and spectres mingle casually with superheroes, princesses, aliens and robots. The imagination shifts into overdrive, finding new and creative ways to scare, thrill and sometimes nauseate. As with every other facet of life, celebrations of All Hallow's Eve range from cute to whimsical, from funny to horrifying.
I love dressing up for Halloween. I always have. I never had a favorite costume, though; each year saw something new, something different. I've been an Elliot Ness-style federal agent, a fly and an accident victim. The last time I went to a Halloween party, it was a 1930s theme, so I went as a mobster. Even had a pencil-thin mustache and slicked-back black hair. The violin case really made it work. It's always fun dressing up and being someone else; or rather, your interpretation of someone else. It's role play, a chance to try on another life, personality or facade for just a day.
Unfortunately, a good portion of my friends and family don't share my love of Halloween. They're too cool for school, as it were. It's almost beneath them. To each their own, I guess, but it makes finding something fun to do difficult. My friends that do enjoy it are, like me, not always able to, be it scheduling conflicts or monetary considerations. It's tough sometimes, but we always try to make the best of it.
This year, since Halloween falls on a Sunday, it's a football theme party we're doing, complete with a tailgate chili cook-off contest. This guarantees that even the people who don't love Halloween show up in costume - let's face it, this is Broncos Country, so everyone has a jersey, T-shirt, sweatshirt or hat in their closet. It's a law.
It is, really. Look it up.
My friends Doug and Trisha are kindly opening their home to the festivities. The game, and therefore the party, kicks off at 11 am, so it's either going to be a short event or it'll turn into an all-day gathering. You never know; could go either way with this crowd.
Trisha's sister Dianna is in town for her annual visit. To celebrate, a group of us went to this dive bar called MVP's for karaoke last night. It was my first time out in a while, so needless to say I'm still kinda nursing the hangover. Ugh. Too old for this crap...but damn it was fun!
So this year, my Halloween plans are a little tame. Still going to be a great time, but I'm missing the costumes and parties. Definitely next year. There's a plan. So what about you guys? What are your plans for this most spooky of holidays? Any parties to attend? Trick & treating with the kids, or by yourself? Or are you going to be like my parents and turn off the outside lights and hide in the family room? What are your favorite Halloween memories, your favorite costumes or stories?
Share and share alike. Happy Halloween!
I love dressing up for Halloween. I always have. I never had a favorite costume, though; each year saw something new, something different. I've been an Elliot Ness-style federal agent, a fly and an accident victim. The last time I went to a Halloween party, it was a 1930s theme, so I went as a mobster. Even had a pencil-thin mustache and slicked-back black hair. The violin case really made it work. It's always fun dressing up and being someone else; or rather, your interpretation of someone else. It's role play, a chance to try on another life, personality or facade for just a day.
Unfortunately, a good portion of my friends and family don't share my love of Halloween. They're too cool for school, as it were. It's almost beneath them. To each their own, I guess, but it makes finding something fun to do difficult. My friends that do enjoy it are, like me, not always able to, be it scheduling conflicts or monetary considerations. It's tough sometimes, but we always try to make the best of it.
This year, since Halloween falls on a Sunday, it's a football theme party we're doing, complete with a tailgate chili cook-off contest. This guarantees that even the people who don't love Halloween show up in costume - let's face it, this is Broncos Country, so everyone has a jersey, T-shirt, sweatshirt or hat in their closet. It's a law.
It is, really. Look it up.
My friends Doug and Trisha are kindly opening their home to the festivities. The game, and therefore the party, kicks off at 11 am, so it's either going to be a short event or it'll turn into an all-day gathering. You never know; could go either way with this crowd.
Trisha's sister Dianna is in town for her annual visit. To celebrate, a group of us went to this dive bar called MVP's for karaoke last night. It was my first time out in a while, so needless to say I'm still kinda nursing the hangover. Ugh. Too old for this crap...but damn it was fun!
So this year, my Halloween plans are a little tame. Still going to be a great time, but I'm missing the costumes and parties. Definitely next year. There's a plan. So what about you guys? What are your plans for this most spooky of holidays? Any parties to attend? Trick & treating with the kids, or by yourself? Or are you going to be like my parents and turn off the outside lights and hide in the family room? What are your favorite Halloween memories, your favorite costumes or stories?
Share and share alike. Happy Halloween!
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Spoke Too Soon...
Leave it to Fate to make a liar out of me.
I wrote in an entry here at the beginning of the month that Colorado generally doesn't have the same kind of autumn season other regions seem to have. While everything east of Colorado's border with Kansas blossoms into shades of green, yellow, brown, red and purple come September and October, the trees and shrubs in the Centennial State typically go from green to yellow to dead. Well, not this season, apparently.
When I wrote the entry, the trees around here were just starting their change. It was pretty, just as it always is, but nothing new seemed about to happen. Now, two weeks and change later, everywhere I go I'm surrounded by a cornucopia of autumnal hues. Driving along the main road outside my housing area, the landscape down the median is a veritable rainbow of color. The same colors I've talked about missing before are now transplanted to Colorado; a traveling exhibition of the East Coast's greatest hits has come to the Mile High City, and the result is nothing so much as exhilirating.
To see such a grand change in the low-oxygen air - or, perhaps, just noticing it for the first time, which makes me look bad - serves to remind me even more why I love fall. Summer's nice, especially when you're a kid, but fall is something special. Something...more. I mean, any season that has both Oktoberfest and Halloween just has to be better, right?
Glad you're coming with me on this.
Of course, Halloween is just around the corner. And for those of you living in Colorado, you know what that means: Figuring out how to maneuver a hooded parka over your kid's costume. It's regular as clockwork - come Halloween, it's gonna snow. A White Christmas? Nah, that's too easy. Here, at the gateway to the Rocky Mountains, we have to do things a little differently. We're not going to snow on Christmas...or even New Year's, for that matter. We're going to do you one better. We're going to snow on Hallo-frickin'-ween and April Fool's Day! Hah! Didn't see that comin', did ya?
It's already starting this year too. Temperatures have dropped quite a bit the last couple of days, the wind's just about ready to drop someone's house on a poor, unsuspecting witch, and snow can be seen all along the peaks of those beautiful mountains. A freeze warning was in effect for parts of the state, so it's going to happen. Will it happen here in Denver? Not sure yet. And it doesn't matter what the weather "forecasters" say, either; they predicted it would rain last Monday (it didn't) and last Saturday (nope, try again...), so we won't even try to locate their "predictions."
We're in the final stretch of October, and overall it's been a good month. Still haven't found a job, but that's about the only real problem I've got right now. I've been looking for full-time, part-time, temporary, seasonal; I've considered every possibility from clerical and administrative to warehouse and logistics to groundskeeping and landscaping. Nothing. No nibbles, no phone calls, no emails. I've driven to malls and office buildings, dropped off or emailed resume after resume, and I'm lucky to even get an acknowledgement. Such is the state of things right now, but it's still frustrating as all hell.
Good thing I've got a video to be proud of, huh?
The application video I submitted to The Canyons resort in Park City, Utah, is up on their website. As things currently stand, mine is the third most popular, but the second most voted. Not too shabby considering the guy in first place has more than twice the views I do, and the lady in second place is five spots behind me in the "most voted" category. It looks like you can only vote once, unless you're craftier than I am in figuring out ways around that. If you've already voted, thanks a million. If you've passed the link along and told all your friends, family, co-workers, neighbors, etc., about it and asked them to vote, then thanks a billion. That's right, passing it along gets more thanks than just voting. Circle of Life, dude. Hike up them Iron Man underoos and deal with it, okay?
In case you're interested, all of the posted videos, including mine, can be found at this lovely website. Mine is titled "How I Mountain." Not terribly original, I know, but it was late at night when I finished editing it and I wasn't entirely sure how they were going to set those up. Hindsight may be 20/20, but my butt's still wearing glasses. I mean, my eyes need glasses, not my butt. Cuz, y'know, my eyes are...
sigh
Never mind. Moving on...
The thumbnail for my video has the title "How I want to camp..." on it. Like I said, it's currently #3 in the Most Popular category, or #2 in the Most Voted category, so it's easy to spot. You could check out the competition, if you're so inclined, but bear in mind that any viewing adds to their total. Don't want to let your curiosity ruin my chances, do you? Thought not.
Now then...it's early afternoon, the sun's shining, and the outdoors are calling my name. Of course, the wind's blowin' something fierce, so I may just be hearing things. Regardless, I'm done for the day. Smoke 'em if ya got 'em, just not anywhere near me.
Ciao
I wrote in an entry here at the beginning of the month that Colorado generally doesn't have the same kind of autumn season other regions seem to have. While everything east of Colorado's border with Kansas blossoms into shades of green, yellow, brown, red and purple come September and October, the trees and shrubs in the Centennial State typically go from green to yellow to dead. Well, not this season, apparently.
When I wrote the entry, the trees around here were just starting their change. It was pretty, just as it always is, but nothing new seemed about to happen. Now, two weeks and change later, everywhere I go I'm surrounded by a cornucopia of autumnal hues. Driving along the main road outside my housing area, the landscape down the median is a veritable rainbow of color. The same colors I've talked about missing before are now transplanted to Colorado; a traveling exhibition of the East Coast's greatest hits has come to the Mile High City, and the result is nothing so much as exhilirating.
To see such a grand change in the low-oxygen air - or, perhaps, just noticing it for the first time, which makes me look bad - serves to remind me even more why I love fall. Summer's nice, especially when you're a kid, but fall is something special. Something...more. I mean, any season that has both Oktoberfest and Halloween just has to be better, right?
Glad you're coming with me on this.
Of course, Halloween is just around the corner. And for those of you living in Colorado, you know what that means: Figuring out how to maneuver a hooded parka over your kid's costume. It's regular as clockwork - come Halloween, it's gonna snow. A White Christmas? Nah, that's too easy. Here, at the gateway to the Rocky Mountains, we have to do things a little differently. We're not going to snow on Christmas...or even New Year's, for that matter. We're going to do you one better. We're going to snow on Hallo-frickin'-ween and April Fool's Day! Hah! Didn't see that comin', did ya?
It's already starting this year too. Temperatures have dropped quite a bit the last couple of days, the wind's just about ready to drop someone's house on a poor, unsuspecting witch, and snow can be seen all along the peaks of those beautiful mountains. A freeze warning was in effect for parts of the state, so it's going to happen. Will it happen here in Denver? Not sure yet. And it doesn't matter what the weather "forecasters" say, either; they predicted it would rain last Monday (it didn't) and last Saturday (nope, try again...), so we won't even try to locate their "predictions."
We're in the final stretch of October, and overall it's been a good month. Still haven't found a job, but that's about the only real problem I've got right now. I've been looking for full-time, part-time, temporary, seasonal; I've considered every possibility from clerical and administrative to warehouse and logistics to groundskeeping and landscaping. Nothing. No nibbles, no phone calls, no emails. I've driven to malls and office buildings, dropped off or emailed resume after resume, and I'm lucky to even get an acknowledgement. Such is the state of things right now, but it's still frustrating as all hell.
Good thing I've got a video to be proud of, huh?
The application video I submitted to The Canyons resort in Park City, Utah, is up on their website. As things currently stand, mine is the third most popular, but the second most voted. Not too shabby considering the guy in first place has more than twice the views I do, and the lady in second place is five spots behind me in the "most voted" category. It looks like you can only vote once, unless you're craftier than I am in figuring out ways around that. If you've already voted, thanks a million. If you've passed the link along and told all your friends, family, co-workers, neighbors, etc., about it and asked them to vote, then thanks a billion. That's right, passing it along gets more thanks than just voting. Circle of Life, dude. Hike up them Iron Man underoos and deal with it, okay?
In case you're interested, all of the posted videos, including mine, can be found at this lovely website. Mine is titled "How I Mountain." Not terribly original, I know, but it was late at night when I finished editing it and I wasn't entirely sure how they were going to set those up. Hindsight may be 20/20, but my butt's still wearing glasses. I mean, my eyes need glasses, not my butt. Cuz, y'know, my eyes are...
sigh
Never mind. Moving on...
The thumbnail for my video has the title "How I want to camp..." on it. Like I said, it's currently #3 in the Most Popular category, or #2 in the Most Voted category, so it's easy to spot. You could check out the competition, if you're so inclined, but bear in mind that any viewing adds to their total. Don't want to let your curiosity ruin my chances, do you? Thought not.
Now then...it's early afternoon, the sun's shining, and the outdoors are calling my name. Of course, the wind's blowin' something fierce, so I may just be hearing things. Regardless, I'm done for the day. Smoke 'em if ya got 'em, just not anywhere near me.
Ciao
Monday, October 18, 2010
Gettin' Overhauled...Hopefully
Anyone out here into cars or trucks in a big way? I'm more into the aesthetics - the lines, curves and stylings - than the engineering. I love them as pieces of art, yearning to slide behind the wheel, play with the switches, knobs and compartments, then finding an open autobahn somewhere and letting it off the chain. But sliding underneath them and digging into their inner workings? Not so much. That's why mechanics were invented; and really, who am I to take away American jobs just to get my hands a little dirty?
That's how patriotic I am. Don't want the terrorists winning, do I?
That's not to say I can't do things with a car. I've changed tires, spark plugs, batteries, oil filters and even a headlight or two. I don't mind doing small mechanical stuff, but I'm neither a gearhead nor a grease monkey. What I am, of course, is a writer and burgeoning video editor. So when someone comes to me with a project that involves his love of all things cars and trucks - but requires him to write and make videos of himself, which he disdains - I naturally jump at the chance. The fact that it's a blood relative is pure coincidence, I swear.
My brother, Greg, is my polar opposite in many regards, but my doppelganger in many others. We both have the same sense of humor, like the same movies and TV shows, and played with the same toys growing up. (We both loved G.I. Joe and Tranformers, but he was more into He-Man than I was, while I had more Legos.) We have the same mannerisms, the same shit-eating grin, and occasionally say the exact same thing at the exact same time. Drives my sister-in-law crazy; the rest of us just laugh our Harper asses off. One thing we definitely disagree on: He loves working on cars and trucks; I just like driving them.
About four years ago, Greg bought a 1976 Jeep Cherokee as a rebuild project. It's a monster, and even in its less-than-mint condition, the thing's pretty damn cool. It's got rust everywhere, the side mirrors flop down limply, and if things aren't actually falling off they're still barely working; despite all that, it's a beautiful truck with great bones and lots of potential. He managed to put a Gladiator grill on the front (if you don't know, then I can't tell you) and a lift kit underneath, as well as larger tires. Then he got racing seats from a salvage yard. Four years later, that's really about the extent of it. Not for lack of trying, mind you. Roughly two months after he bought it, he met and started dating the woman who would eventually become his bride. She's a perfect fit for my brother, and loves the Jeep almost as much as he does. Still, their desire to have a life and do things with friends and family left little time or money for the Jeep. So it sat, like a hulking piece of automotive art, first in a driveway, then in a garage, while he tried to find time and money to work on it.
Alas, we've all been around enough to know how that story unfolded...
Last December, shortly after their wedding, my sister-in-law became pregnant. Since then, money matters have shifted to their future child, as, of course, they should. When little Ava was born last month, one of the things Greg wanted as a father was to share his passion for cars and trucks with his daughter. He wants to teach her to be able to work on her own vehicle, using the Jeep as their bonding experience. Then, when she's 16, he'll give it to her as her first car. (That's his claim - I have my doubts about his sincerity in giving his most prized non-living possession away to anyone. But time wil tell...)
Last week, I got a call from Greg asking for a favor. During one of the many truck and car shows he watches on Sundays, he saw a clip calling for viewers to send in videos or pictures of their vehicles for a chance to get them overhauled. Since he's much more comfortable with a socket wrench than a pen, he asked if I'd be willing to help him get something together for the Jeep. What was I going to say? No? I mean, c'mon, I want to see this things all tricked out and beefed up as much as he does. Forget that he's my brother, darn it. This is as much for those of us who have to look at that eyesore and shake our heads at the hidden potential as it is for the guy who's dreams are bigger than his wallet.
Yes, that's true of all of us, but since you haven't asked me to help you make a video to get that promotion or win the lottery, I can't really speak for you, now can I?
So on Friday, my 37th birthday, I went to his place to help him get the Jeep put back together so we could pull it out of the garage and film it. We got as far as "put it back together." Apparently, it's easier to destroy than rebuild. True story. By the time we were ready to roll it out of the garage - I say roll because it wasn't in enough working condition to be driven (and still isn't) - we still had several pieces that needed to go back on. Y'know, like the radiator. But hey, at least it was kinda fun to push...
After a day off, we went back to his place yesterday to shoot video. The application required two: One of him, and one of the Jeep. If you know Greg, you know why this is amusing. Most of the pictures we have of him in his adult years are either of the side of his head because he turned away before the picture was snapped, or of him with an "I'm going to jump over this coffee table and strangle you with that strand of Christmas lights" glare aimed directly at the camera. Saying he doesn't like having his picture taken is an understatement. Same applies to video. So knowing that my brother not only needed to be in the video, but also had to talk about himself, his dreams, and his motivations...well, that has given me a series of hearty chuckles over the last week.
Hey, if you can't laugh at your brother's discomfort, what can you laugh at?
To his credit, it only required two takes to get footage we were both comfortable submitting. We came back home and shot some additional footage. Then I sat down to start editing. The video about him showed Greg sitting on the hood of the Jeep talking about why he bought it, what he wanted to do to it, and what his plans for it were after. Then I put in shots of him holding Ava, and of he and his wife in a park with their daughter. All told, it ran about two minutes and looked really good. Then came the Jeep video. I did that one myself, walking around it and climbing inside while sharing anecdotes about it. That one ran about two-and-a-half minutes. We got them finished, then I got online to fill out the application.
Turned out they were both too long. By a lot. Max file size was 10 MB - our shortest video was well over 20 MB.
Oops. Back to the drawing board.
So that's what I did this morning. Went back to the videos and re-edited them to sizes that would fit. I lost a lot of good stuff, but was still happy with the finished products. Finally got the application filled out and sent off around lunchtime.
All kidding aside, I want this to work for him. I would love nothing more than for someone to come to my door and tell me that my brother's Jeep was picked for this project. To be able to tell him that something we did together worked out for him would be incredible. Knowing that he would get his wish of seeing it fully fixed-up and driveable, knowing that he would get to share that with my niece, what could be better? I'm not sure if there's going to be any public voting on these applications, but if there is, I would be grateful for any assistance in getting him picked. I know Greg would, too. Until I know more, at least you get to sit back and enjoy the footage we shot.
As always, comments and feedback are welcome. Any well wishes will be passed along accordingly. And once it's all done and road-worthy, he swore he'd let me drive it.
Trust me, I have video of that too...and I'll be holding him to it.
That's how patriotic I am. Don't want the terrorists winning, do I?
That's not to say I can't do things with a car. I've changed tires, spark plugs, batteries, oil filters and even a headlight or two. I don't mind doing small mechanical stuff, but I'm neither a gearhead nor a grease monkey. What I am, of course, is a writer and burgeoning video editor. So when someone comes to me with a project that involves his love of all things cars and trucks - but requires him to write and make videos of himself, which he disdains - I naturally jump at the chance. The fact that it's a blood relative is pure coincidence, I swear.
My brother, Greg, is my polar opposite in many regards, but my doppelganger in many others. We both have the same sense of humor, like the same movies and TV shows, and played with the same toys growing up. (We both loved G.I. Joe and Tranformers, but he was more into He-Man than I was, while I had more Legos.) We have the same mannerisms, the same shit-eating grin, and occasionally say the exact same thing at the exact same time. Drives my sister-in-law crazy; the rest of us just laugh our Harper asses off. One thing we definitely disagree on: He loves working on cars and trucks; I just like driving them.
About four years ago, Greg bought a 1976 Jeep Cherokee as a rebuild project. It's a monster, and even in its less-than-mint condition, the thing's pretty damn cool. It's got rust everywhere, the side mirrors flop down limply, and if things aren't actually falling off they're still barely working; despite all that, it's a beautiful truck with great bones and lots of potential. He managed to put a Gladiator grill on the front (if you don't know, then I can't tell you) and a lift kit underneath, as well as larger tires. Then he got racing seats from a salvage yard. Four years later, that's really about the extent of it. Not for lack of trying, mind you. Roughly two months after he bought it, he met and started dating the woman who would eventually become his bride. She's a perfect fit for my brother, and loves the Jeep almost as much as he does. Still, their desire to have a life and do things with friends and family left little time or money for the Jeep. So it sat, like a hulking piece of automotive art, first in a driveway, then in a garage, while he tried to find time and money to work on it.
Alas, we've all been around enough to know how that story unfolded...
Last December, shortly after their wedding, my sister-in-law became pregnant. Since then, money matters have shifted to their future child, as, of course, they should. When little Ava was born last month, one of the things Greg wanted as a father was to share his passion for cars and trucks with his daughter. He wants to teach her to be able to work on her own vehicle, using the Jeep as their bonding experience. Then, when she's 16, he'll give it to her as her first car. (That's his claim - I have my doubts about his sincerity in giving his most prized non-living possession away to anyone. But time wil tell...)
Last week, I got a call from Greg asking for a favor. During one of the many truck and car shows he watches on Sundays, he saw a clip calling for viewers to send in videos or pictures of their vehicles for a chance to get them overhauled. Since he's much more comfortable with a socket wrench than a pen, he asked if I'd be willing to help him get something together for the Jeep. What was I going to say? No? I mean, c'mon, I want to see this things all tricked out and beefed up as much as he does. Forget that he's my brother, darn it. This is as much for those of us who have to look at that eyesore and shake our heads at the hidden potential as it is for the guy who's dreams are bigger than his wallet.
Yes, that's true of all of us, but since you haven't asked me to help you make a video to get that promotion or win the lottery, I can't really speak for you, now can I?
So on Friday, my 37th birthday, I went to his place to help him get the Jeep put back together so we could pull it out of the garage and film it. We got as far as "put it back together." Apparently, it's easier to destroy than rebuild. True story. By the time we were ready to roll it out of the garage - I say roll because it wasn't in enough working condition to be driven (and still isn't) - we still had several pieces that needed to go back on. Y'know, like the radiator. But hey, at least it was kinda fun to push...
After a day off, we went back to his place yesterday to shoot video. The application required two: One of him, and one of the Jeep. If you know Greg, you know why this is amusing. Most of the pictures we have of him in his adult years are either of the side of his head because he turned away before the picture was snapped, or of him with an "I'm going to jump over this coffee table and strangle you with that strand of Christmas lights" glare aimed directly at the camera. Saying he doesn't like having his picture taken is an understatement. Same applies to video. So knowing that my brother not only needed to be in the video, but also had to talk about himself, his dreams, and his motivations...well, that has given me a series of hearty chuckles over the last week.
Hey, if you can't laugh at your brother's discomfort, what can you laugh at?
Greg: The "Director's Cut" - the one too big to show.
To his credit, it only required two takes to get footage we were both comfortable submitting. We came back home and shot some additional footage. Then I sat down to start editing. The video about him showed Greg sitting on the hood of the Jeep talking about why he bought it, what he wanted to do to it, and what his plans for it were after. Then I put in shots of him holding Ava, and of he and his wife in a park with their daughter. All told, it ran about two minutes and looked really good. Then came the Jeep video. I did that one myself, walking around it and climbing inside while sharing anecdotes about it. That one ran about two-and-a-half minutes. We got them finished, then I got online to fill out the application.
The Theatrical Release - watered down and PG-rated
Turned out they were both too long. By a lot. Max file size was 10 MB - our shortest video was well over 20 MB.
Oops. Back to the drawing board.
So that's what I did this morning. Went back to the videos and re-edited them to sizes that would fit. I lost a lot of good stuff, but was still happy with the finished products. Finally got the application filled out and sent off around lunchtime.
Selling the Jeep - The original footage
All kidding aside, I want this to work for him. I would love nothing more than for someone to come to my door and tell me that my brother's Jeep was picked for this project. To be able to tell him that something we did together worked out for him would be incredible. Knowing that he would get his wish of seeing it fully fixed-up and driveable, knowing that he would get to share that with my niece, what could be better? I'm not sure if there's going to be any public voting on these applications, but if there is, I would be grateful for any assistance in getting him picked. I know Greg would, too. Until I know more, at least you get to sit back and enjoy the footage we shot.
As always, comments and feedback are welcome. Any well wishes will be passed along accordingly. And once it's all done and road-worthy, he swore he'd let me drive it.
Trust me, I have video of that too...and I'll be holding him to it.
Friday, October 15, 2010
37 Years Later...
On this day, 37 years ago, I entered this world. In the year 1973, the cost of a new house was around $32,000, while a gallon of gas would set you back a whopping 40 cents. Ironically, those numbers seem to have switched in recent years. Weird. The year I was born, a bill was signed to allow the construction of an oil pipeline in Alaska, while another was signed to make abortion a constitutional right. (Please, no politics...I'm just saying it happened in 1973. That's all.) The Sydney Opera House opened, and Richard Nixon tried convincing us he was "not a crook" as the Watergate hearings began. Skylab was launched into space, and the Sears Tower opened in Chicago. The year I was born also saw the "birth" of barcodes, optic fibers, and jetskis.
It was the year that gave us the films The Exorcist, Deliverance, Live and Let Die, American Graffiti and The Sting, among others. On the "boob tube" we were introduced to The Odd Couple, The Partridge Family, Columbo ("One more thing..."), M*A*S*H, Sanford and Son, and The Price is Right. On those glorious AM radio stations we (well, not US, per se, but people...) grooved to Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon, Elton John's Crocodile Rock, and the Rolling Stones' Angie. Among the celebrities born in 1973: Tyra Banks, Kate Beckinsale (hellooo, Nurse!), Paul Walker, and Bill Watterson (creator of Calvin & Hobbes...the BEST comic strip EVER!!!).
It's strange, really. Every once in a while I sit back and think about the last 37 years. Not the stuff that I did, or didn't do, or wish I could do again. I'm talking about the things that happened around me. Things I didn't think about at the time, or didn't think I'd remember by the time 2010 rolled around. I never thought I'd live through a space shuttle exploding, a war in which my father - or myself - might have to participate, domestic bombings, a terrorist attack that destroyed a landmark and nearly a nation, a devestating storm that leveled a city and threw a giant spotlight on our government's inadequacies, or a black president. When I was a kid, Transformers were brand new and hadn't yet been ruined by Michael Bay, G.I. Joe introduced "swivel-arm battle grip" instead of "points of articulation", and my Star Wars action figures couldn't even bend at the arms because of the light saber you had to MANUALLY push through the slot. Hell, even their legs didn't bend...do you know how LAME those fights were?
Seriously, these kids today don't know just how good they have it...
Ahem. But I digress...
Some things haven't changed all that much. Thirty years ago I couldn't imagine living without my TV; today, I can't imagine living without my cell phone. (Though part of me realizes I'd be better off had neither invention come into my life.) I still play with Legos; or I would, if they weren't so bloody expensive now. I still read comic books, even if they feel the need to call them "graphic novels". Hell, I've even lived long enough to see new versions of Knight Rider, The Bionic Woman, The A Team, A Nightmare on Elm Street, and Clash of the Titans. Some things, however, have definitely changed for the better. I can watch hundreds of channels on TV in gloriously clear high definition, I can listen to music on the go without having to flip a cassette over every 30 minutes, and I can watch a movie or read a book practically anywhere.
Without being too nostalgic, I find myself looking back at the first 37 years of my life and realizing just how much it all blurs together after a while. Not in a bad way, but definitely in a glossed-over amalgam of bittersweet flashbacks. I've heard that "life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." Turns out that's true. Who knew? (Aside from John Lennon, of course...the man was a friggin' genius, after all.) You spend all your childhood days wanting to crisscross the galaxy in the Millennium Falcon looking for ancient civilizations, and instead you end up writing a blog about how much gas cost back when you were jumping unbuckled in the back seat as opposed to actually driving the car.
In the end, I guess, it's the memories, not the events themselves, that make this existence so much fun. We remember how much fun we had, and find new ways to recapture that excitement. Sometimes it works (looking at you, high def!) and sometimes it doesn't (cuz Clash of the Titans 2010 sucked!!!).
I hope my time down the timeline brought up some fun memories for you as well. I'd love to hear about the things you remember - good or bad. Maybe you'd like to elaborate on something I mentioned; maybe you thought of something I didn't. Either way, comments are always welcome. Grab your friends and family, bring 'em on over here, and let's have a big ol' memory fest.
C'mon...you know you wanna...
It was the year that gave us the films The Exorcist, Deliverance, Live and Let Die, American Graffiti and The Sting, among others. On the "boob tube" we were introduced to The Odd Couple, The Partridge Family, Columbo ("One more thing..."), M*A*S*H, Sanford and Son, and The Price is Right. On those glorious AM radio stations we (well, not US, per se, but people...) grooved to Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon, Elton John's Crocodile Rock, and the Rolling Stones' Angie. Among the celebrities born in 1973: Tyra Banks, Kate Beckinsale (hellooo, Nurse!), Paul Walker, and Bill Watterson (creator of Calvin & Hobbes...the BEST comic strip EVER!!!).
It's strange, really. Every once in a while I sit back and think about the last 37 years. Not the stuff that I did, or didn't do, or wish I could do again. I'm talking about the things that happened around me. Things I didn't think about at the time, or didn't think I'd remember by the time 2010 rolled around. I never thought I'd live through a space shuttle exploding, a war in which my father - or myself - might have to participate, domestic bombings, a terrorist attack that destroyed a landmark and nearly a nation, a devestating storm that leveled a city and threw a giant spotlight on our government's inadequacies, or a black president. When I was a kid, Transformers were brand new and hadn't yet been ruined by Michael Bay, G.I. Joe introduced "swivel-arm battle grip" instead of "points of articulation", and my Star Wars action figures couldn't even bend at the arms because of the light saber you had to MANUALLY push through the slot. Hell, even their legs didn't bend...do you know how LAME those fights were?
Seriously, these kids today don't know just how good they have it...
Ahem. But I digress...
Some things haven't changed all that much. Thirty years ago I couldn't imagine living without my TV; today, I can't imagine living without my cell phone. (Though part of me realizes I'd be better off had neither invention come into my life.) I still play with Legos; or I would, if they weren't so bloody expensive now. I still read comic books, even if they feel the need to call them "graphic novels". Hell, I've even lived long enough to see new versions of Knight Rider, The Bionic Woman, The A Team, A Nightmare on Elm Street, and Clash of the Titans. Some things, however, have definitely changed for the better. I can watch hundreds of channels on TV in gloriously clear high definition, I can listen to music on the go without having to flip a cassette over every 30 minutes, and I can watch a movie or read a book practically anywhere.
Without being too nostalgic, I find myself looking back at the first 37 years of my life and realizing just how much it all blurs together after a while. Not in a bad way, but definitely in a glossed-over amalgam of bittersweet flashbacks. I've heard that "life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." Turns out that's true. Who knew? (Aside from John Lennon, of course...the man was a friggin' genius, after all.) You spend all your childhood days wanting to crisscross the galaxy in the Millennium Falcon looking for ancient civilizations, and instead you end up writing a blog about how much gas cost back when you were jumping unbuckled in the back seat as opposed to actually driving the car.
In the end, I guess, it's the memories, not the events themselves, that make this existence so much fun. We remember how much fun we had, and find new ways to recapture that excitement. Sometimes it works (looking at you, high def!) and sometimes it doesn't (cuz Clash of the Titans 2010 sucked!!!).
I hope my time down the timeline brought up some fun memories for you as well. I'd love to hear about the things you remember - good or bad. Maybe you'd like to elaborate on something I mentioned; maybe you thought of something I didn't. Either way, comments are always welcome. Grab your friends and family, bring 'em on over here, and let's have a big ol' memory fest.
C'mon...you know you wanna...
Thursday, October 14, 2010
It's All Over But The Waiting...And I Hate Waiting!!!
Ok, so there's this job I want. No, check that...there's this job I really, really want. I got a heads-up from a former instructor/occasional employer about this dream gig in Utah. The Canyons Resort in Park City is hiring a blogger for a four-month tour of duty starting January 1. Basically, I would go to the resort, experience everything they have to offer (on their dime...too cool), and write about my adventures at least four times a week.
Sounds easy, no?
I think it sounds awesome. Not just, "You're coming to the party, right? That's awesome!" I mean truly, deeply, on a fundamental level AWESOME. This is the kind of job a writer waits for his entire life. Or her entire life. I'm not sexist, really. All someone has to do to apply (aside from proving they can write entertaining articles) is submit a 2-minute video and a written travel blog. Piece of cake. Already finished, already sent off. But here's the gremlin in the blender: The interview process doesn't begin for another six weeks.
Groan.
But have faith, true believers. There is something you can do in the meantime. This small little task, this teeny, tiny favor, solves two problems. The first is how someone like yourself can view the aforementioned video; once I submitted mine, it became the property of the resort. But since I know you're dying to see what your ol' buddy Shawn can come up with to sell himself, like I said, this favor helps you find out.
The second problem is one of recognition. In order to help land the job, I'll need people (like you) to raise their hands and scream at the heavens, "We want Shawn Harper to have this job and no one else!!!!" (Trust me, if you're shouting to the heavens, you need that many exclamation points.) So how, the beloved followers of this humble blog may well ask, can we both accept the duty of this favor AND see Shawn make a fool of himself for a gloriously wonderful job?
Simple. Tell them I should have the job. As I understand it, at some point they will be posting the application videos on their website for people to see and vote on. Not sure when that's going to happen, but when it does, all y'all will be about the 9,000th to know. For now, just go here if you're interested in seeing and learning more about the resort itself. There's a ton of great stuff there, so be sure to hit all the nooks & crannies. This will also give you a better idea of the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity I'll be getting myself into when I get the job. (Think positive, think positive, think positive...)
So that's what I need. When the time comes, I'd appreciate your vote. And your friend's vote. And your doctor's vote, and your dry cleaner's vote, and your...well, you get the idea. The deadline for submission is Nov. 15, so there's still a lot of time left before I'll know anything for certain. After that, it'll be a couple of weeks before I get an interview (still thinking positive...), and a couple more after that before I'm told I got the job.
Like I said earlier...groan.
I figure since I'm done with the application, and because I've been talking about it like mad to everyone around me until they're ready to strangle me with a busted shoelace, I should go ahead and tell folks what's going on. Appreciate the support, as always. And please, you can see who's following me here and who's not. If you would spread the word and get all those slackers to come over here and join up, I would be eternally grateful. Well, maybe not 'eternally.' How about "I'll be grateful until the end of the year, then you're on your own?" True, that's a wee bit shorter than eternity, but it is more realistic. If you can think of someone else who might get a chuckle out of my ramblin's, send them over too.
Later, gators
P.S. - You're still picturing the "gremlin in the blender" bit, aren't you?
Sounds easy, no?
I think it sounds awesome. Not just, "You're coming to the party, right? That's awesome!" I mean truly, deeply, on a fundamental level AWESOME. This is the kind of job a writer waits for his entire life. Or her entire life. I'm not sexist, really. All someone has to do to apply (aside from proving they can write entertaining articles) is submit a 2-minute video and a written travel blog. Piece of cake. Already finished, already sent off. But here's the gremlin in the blender: The interview process doesn't begin for another six weeks.
Groan.
But have faith, true believers. There is something you can do in the meantime. This small little task, this teeny, tiny favor, solves two problems. The first is how someone like yourself can view the aforementioned video; once I submitted mine, it became the property of the resort. But since I know you're dying to see what your ol' buddy Shawn can come up with to sell himself, like I said, this favor helps you find out.
The second problem is one of recognition. In order to help land the job, I'll need people (like you) to raise their hands and scream at the heavens, "We want Shawn Harper to have this job and no one else!!!!" (Trust me, if you're shouting to the heavens, you need that many exclamation points.) So how, the beloved followers of this humble blog may well ask, can we both accept the duty of this favor AND see Shawn make a fool of himself for a gloriously wonderful job?
Simple. Tell them I should have the job. As I understand it, at some point they will be posting the application videos on their website for people to see and vote on. Not sure when that's going to happen, but when it does, all y'all will be about the 9,000th to know. For now, just go here if you're interested in seeing and learning more about the resort itself. There's a ton of great stuff there, so be sure to hit all the nooks & crannies. This will also give you a better idea of the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity I'll be getting myself into when I get the job. (Think positive, think positive, think positive...)
So that's what I need. When the time comes, I'd appreciate your vote. And your friend's vote. And your doctor's vote, and your dry cleaner's vote, and your...well, you get the idea. The deadline for submission is Nov. 15, so there's still a lot of time left before I'll know anything for certain. After that, it'll be a couple of weeks before I get an interview (still thinking positive...), and a couple more after that before I'm told I got the job.
Like I said earlier...groan.
I figure since I'm done with the application, and because I've been talking about it like mad to everyone around me until they're ready to strangle me with a busted shoelace, I should go ahead and tell folks what's going on. Appreciate the support, as always. And please, you can see who's following me here and who's not. If you would spread the word and get all those slackers to come over here and join up, I would be eternally grateful. Well, maybe not 'eternally.' How about "I'll be grateful until the end of the year, then you're on your own?" True, that's a wee bit shorter than eternity, but it is more realistic. If you can think of someone else who might get a chuckle out of my ramblin's, send them over too.
Later, gators
P.S. - You're still picturing the "gremlin in the blender" bit, aren't you?
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Now This Is What I'm Talking About!
I love days like this.
For the first real time this season, the temperature has dropped to fall-like norms. There's a cool breeze in the air, and on it rides the same smells and sounds of the Mile High City I've come to anticipate over the course of 20 love-hate years. The air conditioning is off, the windows are thrown open, and the trees lazily yield their branches to the wind rustling through them even as the leaves begin their metamorphosis from dark greens to pale yellows.
It's fall in Colorado, and today is the day I've waited for all year.
Going away are the shorts, and in their pace come the jeans. (Yes, I wear jeans all the time but dammit, I'm trying to be all imagery-y here...) To the bottom of the drawer go the T-shirts, replaced by long-sleeved henleys and pullovers. Hooded sweatshirts are moved from their pile of shame in the back of the closet and given the Shelf of Honor for easy access. Sweat pants and thick socks are the new shorts and barefoot. Come laundry day, those cotton and satin sheets don't go back on the bed; instead, the blissfully warm and cuddly flannel ones have made their way onto that pillow-top mattress.
Pretty soon cold lemonade and iced tea will be a memory fondly recalled over steaming mugs of hot chocolate and spiced cider. Air fresheners that once caressed the air of your home with the fragrances of linen, mountain air and summer beaches are now tempting you with the pull of fireplaces, falling leaves and pumpkin.
Mmm...pumpkin.
The days may be getting shorter, but the appeal of fall - with its cooler temps, leaf-scattered yards and impending threat of the first snowfall - has, to me, always triumphed over the hot and sweaty "dog days" of summer. Everything blooms in the summer, but I've always felt that the fall is when everything comes alive. Like the last desperate gasp of a dying man, Nature knows she's on her last legs of the year, so she tries valiantly to remind you what beauty she's capable of. Yeah, that may seem a bit too poetic, but admit it, you kinda feel the same way sometimes.
I've lived in a lot of different places in my 37 years. Most of them fall into two categories where the seasons are concerned: They have them or they don't. Colorado usually doesn't have a fall, truth be told. Not like back east, anyway. Here, we don't get the turning of the leaves; the greens, the yellows, the reds, the purples and the browns don't really exist in our semi-arid desert environment. We get the aspens going from green to gold, and though they are a truly beautiful sight to see when you're standing on a mountainside in the middle of them, it's not the same as watching the big maple leaves fall to the ground in a haphazard jumble of rich hues. My family is originally from Ohio, and I spent time in both Virginia and Kentucky (GO EAGLES!!!), so I know what I'm talking about. Even Portland, Oregon, the one incredible time I went there in late October, had some beautifully exciting scenery thanks to the trees. But not Colorado. I miss that, but not enough to make me want to live in God-awful humidity during the summer months. I'll take Colorado's no-colors-when-the-trees-change fall to anywhere else's I'm-sweating-like-a-pig-and-all-I-did-was-blink summer, thank you very much.
So today is one of the really great days. It's the weekend, which always helps, and the pigskin is getting tossed around both on my television set (tomorrow too...bonus!) and in the park behind the house. Spring may be the start of the life cycle for our planet, but fall is the start of something more profound for me. Something more basic. It's a return to days long gone, but perfectly remembered; a gateway to the joys of childhood and the innocence we find ourselves striving to recapture again as we get older. It's the alpha and the omega - the beginning and the end - of something hardwired into our psyche and updated every year.
It's the first real day of fall, and it's only going to get better from here. At least until the blizzard comes...
For the first real time this season, the temperature has dropped to fall-like norms. There's a cool breeze in the air, and on it rides the same smells and sounds of the Mile High City I've come to anticipate over the course of 20 love-hate years. The air conditioning is off, the windows are thrown open, and the trees lazily yield their branches to the wind rustling through them even as the leaves begin their metamorphosis from dark greens to pale yellows.
It's fall in Colorado, and today is the day I've waited for all year.
Going away are the shorts, and in their pace come the jeans. (Yes, I wear jeans all the time but dammit, I'm trying to be all imagery-y here...) To the bottom of the drawer go the T-shirts, replaced by long-sleeved henleys and pullovers. Hooded sweatshirts are moved from their pile of shame in the back of the closet and given the Shelf of Honor for easy access. Sweat pants and thick socks are the new shorts and barefoot. Come laundry day, those cotton and satin sheets don't go back on the bed; instead, the blissfully warm and cuddly flannel ones have made their way onto that pillow-top mattress.
Pretty soon cold lemonade and iced tea will be a memory fondly recalled over steaming mugs of hot chocolate and spiced cider. Air fresheners that once caressed the air of your home with the fragrances of linen, mountain air and summer beaches are now tempting you with the pull of fireplaces, falling leaves and pumpkin.
Mmm...pumpkin.
The days may be getting shorter, but the appeal of fall - with its cooler temps, leaf-scattered yards and impending threat of the first snowfall - has, to me, always triumphed over the hot and sweaty "dog days" of summer. Everything blooms in the summer, but I've always felt that the fall is when everything comes alive. Like the last desperate gasp of a dying man, Nature knows she's on her last legs of the year, so she tries valiantly to remind you what beauty she's capable of. Yeah, that may seem a bit too poetic, but admit it, you kinda feel the same way sometimes.
I've lived in a lot of different places in my 37 years. Most of them fall into two categories where the seasons are concerned: They have them or they don't. Colorado usually doesn't have a fall, truth be told. Not like back east, anyway. Here, we don't get the turning of the leaves; the greens, the yellows, the reds, the purples and the browns don't really exist in our semi-arid desert environment. We get the aspens going from green to gold, and though they are a truly beautiful sight to see when you're standing on a mountainside in the middle of them, it's not the same as watching the big maple leaves fall to the ground in a haphazard jumble of rich hues. My family is originally from Ohio, and I spent time in both Virginia and Kentucky (GO EAGLES!!!), so I know what I'm talking about. Even Portland, Oregon, the one incredible time I went there in late October, had some beautifully exciting scenery thanks to the trees. But not Colorado. I miss that, but not enough to make me want to live in God-awful humidity during the summer months. I'll take Colorado's no-colors-when-the-trees-change fall to anywhere else's I'm-sweating-like-a-pig-and-all-I-did-was-blink summer, thank you very much.
A neighbor's tree against the bright blue sky
The view down my street - everything from green to gold to dead
So today is one of the really great days. It's the weekend, which always helps, and the pigskin is getting tossed around both on my television set (tomorrow too...bonus!) and in the park behind the house. Spring may be the start of the life cycle for our planet, but fall is the start of something more profound for me. Something more basic. It's a return to days long gone, but perfectly remembered; a gateway to the joys of childhood and the innocence we find ourselves striving to recapture again as we get older. It's the alpha and the omega - the beginning and the end - of something hardwired into our psyche and updated every year.
It's the first real day of fall, and it's only going to get better from here. At least until the blizzard comes...
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Ran-dumb Stuff
Don't really have a lot to talk about today, but I felt the need to put something up. There are a couple of things I'd like to start adding to this, and today's as good a day as any to get the ball rolling. This isn't going to be a daily thing, but they will appear every time I post something, usually at the end. They're just stuff that I like, but if you've got some of your own, I'd love to see them in the comments. So without any ado whatsoever:
Today's Movie Quote: "I've often speculated on why you don't return to America. Did you abscond with the church funds? Did you run off with a senator's wife? I like to think that you killed a man, it's the romantic in me." - Capt. Renault (Claude Rains) to Rick (Humphrey Bogart), Casablanca, 1942.
Today's Upcoming Event: Denver Zombie Crawl, 2 p.m., Saturday, October 23, Skyline Park (16th & Arapahoe). A free event (not counting the cost of dressing up like a zombie and getting downtown) to celebrate all things living dead. I'm going to be there taking pics and getting quotes, so look for that blog probably on the 24th. Visit the official website here.
Today's Snow Advisory: Not yet. (Hey, it's Colorado, it's really just a matter of time...)
Yeah, that's really all for today. Thanks for checking in, even if it took longer to load the page than it did to read the post. Til next time...
Today's Movie Quote: "I've often speculated on why you don't return to America. Did you abscond with the church funds? Did you run off with a senator's wife? I like to think that you killed a man, it's the romantic in me." - Capt. Renault (Claude Rains) to Rick (Humphrey Bogart), Casablanca, 1942.
Today's Upcoming Event: Denver Zombie Crawl, 2 p.m., Saturday, October 23, Skyline Park (16th & Arapahoe). A free event (not counting the cost of dressing up like a zombie and getting downtown) to celebrate all things living dead. I'm going to be there taking pics and getting quotes, so look for that blog probably on the 24th. Visit the official website here.
Today's Snow Advisory: Not yet. (Hey, it's Colorado, it's really just a matter of time...)
Yeah, that's really all for today. Thanks for checking in, even if it took longer to load the page than it did to read the post. Til next time...
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Never Too Old For This Shi...Stuff
I love to hike and camp. Loved them from the first moment I tried them. Being outside, away from the city, cold morning air and crisp afternoon skies...there really is something cleansing and invigorating about it. It just feels comforting to me; it feels like I'm where I should be.
The earliest experiences with hiking I can remember were going Volksmarching with my dad when he was stationed in Augsburg, West Germany, in the mid- to late-80s. (Yes, it's just Germany now, but back then you definitely specified the "west" part.) Volksmarching, for those unaware, is basically hiking, but you get stamps in a little book and a neat little souvenir to take home as a prize. My dad and I would get up at o'dark-thirty, drive upwards of two hours to some small German town in Bavaria (highly recommended, btw...), and pay a very nice person for the privelege of walking around their forests on a nicely-marked trail. You're usually given the option of either a 10k hike (about 6.2 mi) or a 20k hike (12.4 mi). We always did the 10k. (It was early, we still had a 2-hour drive home, and I was, like, 12. Don't judge us.) Checkpoints are set up along the trail so someone can stamp your Volksmarching book, proving that you did, in fact, walk the hike. This is important if you want the little souvenir prize, and we always did. C'mon, you didn't think we were doing this for the pleasure, did you? Silly goose. Then came the rest area at the halfway point where you could sit, drink and eat before moving on to the end. Those were great times. It didn't matter how early it was, how cold it was, or how many people were there; it was always an incredibly fun time. Camping, of course, was a big thing for the Boy Scouts, so I got to do a lot of that as a kid too.
As an adult, not so much. Especially this year. Yesterday was my first hike of the year, and it'll probably be my only one. It was my first because I - and the people I like to hike with - were just too busy over the summer. It happens. It's probably my only hike because this time of year is hectic for my friends and family. Lots of birthdays, then the holidays. And it goes without saying that most of us are fair-weather hikers. Donning snow gear and snow shoes to walk a trail we can't even see to the top of a friggin' mountain? Um, no thanks. Just gimme a beer and let me watch football.
So I finally went hiking yesterday. My friend Doug and I went to a place near Breckenridge called Mohawk Lake Trail - a beautiful area all year long. It was gorgeous; in the 50s during the early morning but up to the high 60s by mid-day. The clouds didn't show up until early afternoon, and by then we'd already started our trek back down. It was also quiet. I know what you're thinking: Of course it was quiet, you dolt! You were away from civilization! And that's true, but the thing about Colorado is that civilization has a tendency to show itself in the wild on days like that. The cool thing, though, is that most of the time civilization's not an early riser. So, if you don't mind losing a few hours sleep and getting an early start, like we did, you can get a good deal of hiking in before meeting another person.
Mohawk Lake trail is a 7-mile round-tripper, if you go all the way to the top. Mohawk Lake is actually divided into an upper and lower lake area. I've taken this trail four times now, and I've only ever managed to make it to Lower Mohawk Lake. For one reason or another, none of my friends or I have made it to the upper lake. But Doug and I have a plan...for next year.
We got to the trailhead around 9 a.m. There were four other cars parked there, but no one was around. We hiked in peace and quiet for a good hour, hour-and-a-half. In the trees, the sun blocked out by evergreens, in early October, up in the mountains...yeah, it was a little brisk. But by the time we broke through into the first clearing, it was warm and sunny. And that's how it stayed.
The earliest experiences with hiking I can remember were going Volksmarching with my dad when he was stationed in Augsburg, West Germany, in the mid- to late-80s. (Yes, it's just Germany now, but back then you definitely specified the "west" part.) Volksmarching, for those unaware, is basically hiking, but you get stamps in a little book and a neat little souvenir to take home as a prize. My dad and I would get up at o'dark-thirty, drive upwards of two hours to some small German town in Bavaria (highly recommended, btw...), and pay a very nice person for the privelege of walking around their forests on a nicely-marked trail. You're usually given the option of either a 10k hike (about 6.2 mi) or a 20k hike (12.4 mi). We always did the 10k. (It was early, we still had a 2-hour drive home, and I was, like, 12. Don't judge us.) Checkpoints are set up along the trail so someone can stamp your Volksmarching book, proving that you did, in fact, walk the hike. This is important if you want the little souvenir prize, and we always did. C'mon, you didn't think we were doing this for the pleasure, did you? Silly goose. Then came the rest area at the halfway point where you could sit, drink and eat before moving on to the end. Those were great times. It didn't matter how early it was, how cold it was, or how many people were there; it was always an incredibly fun time. Camping, of course, was a big thing for the Boy Scouts, so I got to do a lot of that as a kid too.
As an adult, not so much. Especially this year. Yesterday was my first hike of the year, and it'll probably be my only one. It was my first because I - and the people I like to hike with - were just too busy over the summer. It happens. It's probably my only hike because this time of year is hectic for my friends and family. Lots of birthdays, then the holidays. And it goes without saying that most of us are fair-weather hikers. Donning snow gear and snow shoes to walk a trail we can't even see to the top of a friggin' mountain? Um, no thanks. Just gimme a beer and let me watch football.
So I finally went hiking yesterday. My friend Doug and I went to a place near Breckenridge called Mohawk Lake Trail - a beautiful area all year long. It was gorgeous; in the 50s during the early morning but up to the high 60s by mid-day. The clouds didn't show up until early afternoon, and by then we'd already started our trek back down. It was also quiet. I know what you're thinking: Of course it was quiet, you dolt! You were away from civilization! And that's true, but the thing about Colorado is that civilization has a tendency to show itself in the wild on days like that. The cool thing, though, is that most of the time civilization's not an early riser. So, if you don't mind losing a few hours sleep and getting an early start, like we did, you can get a good deal of hiking in before meeting another person.
Coming through the first break in the trees, this is the view that awaits us.
Mohawk Lake trail is a 7-mile round-tripper, if you go all the way to the top. Mohawk Lake is actually divided into an upper and lower lake area. I've taken this trail four times now, and I've only ever managed to make it to Lower Mohawk Lake. For one reason or another, none of my friends or I have made it to the upper lake. But Doug and I have a plan...for next year.
We got to the trailhead around 9 a.m. There were four other cars parked there, but no one was around. We hiked in peace and quiet for a good hour, hour-and-a-half. In the trees, the sun blocked out by evergreens, in early October, up in the mountains...yeah, it was a little brisk. But by the time we broke through into the first clearing, it was warm and sunny. And that's how it stayed.
Taken near a beaver dam - the foreground shows the "lake" formed by it.
We would have made better time up the trail, but Doug and I also wanted to take pictures as we hiked. That meant stopping every time a beautiful scene revealed itself to us. And it did. A lot. Between that and Doug getting over being sick all week, we didn't have a lot of energy left by the time we reached the lower lake. Still, it was an awesome end to a mediocre week, which makes it just about perfect. Enjoy the pictures. These and others are also up on Facebook, so check me out there: www.facebook.com/oxygendepraved.
For more information on this and other trails in the Breckenridge area, I suggest you check out http://www.breckenridgecolorado.travel/index.html or http://www.summitcountyexplorer.com/summithikingtrails.htm. Both sites have some great information and maps for your perusal.
This one's a short post. It's Sunday, so football's starting in about 30 minutes. I'm sure y'all understand...
At the top of the Jeep trail, second half of the hike.
The more photogenic half of Lower Monarch Lake.
Remants of an old pulley system. The wheel is behind me, and you can see
the cable in the center of the pic going down the mountain.
The view from the ledge where the pulley sits.
It's to my left.
Clouds coming in as we walk down the Jeep trail.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Death Rays and "We have no idea..."
I'm not a news junkie. Not by any stretch of the imagination. I like skimming headlines, reading the first two paragraphs of a story that catches my eye, then moving on. It's not ADD, or ADHD, and I'm not lazy. I just don't like reading depressing stories, tales of corrupt politicians, frontline exploits of a war that never should have been, and whatnot. It's heart-breaking, and we've all got too much on our plates right now to keep shoveling that down our pipes. So I don't ignore it, but I don't dwell on it either. I know what's going on, but my having detailed knowledge of every little shred of information will not improve the situations, so I keep my level of interest to the maximum that I'm comfortable with.
But then something pops up that just strikes me as funny, insane, stupid, or a mad scientist's amalgam of all of the above. The first story that caught my eye was found on Yahoo. It was written by Brett Michael Dykes and posted on September 29. The headline reads, and I quote, "Swanky new Vegas hotel's 'death ray' proves inconvenient for some guests." OK, color me tickled...
Apparently, the new Vdara hotel in Sin City is a concave-shaped building whose exterior is all glass. These two facts, coupled with the oh-so-brutal Nevada sun, creates this "sort of magnifying-glass effect" that has burned guests in the pool area and melted plastic. Anticipating this possibility beforehand, the designers placed a film over the glass. It hasn't helped. So here's my question: Seriously? No one thought that placing a giant magnifying glass in the freakin' Nevada desert might create a small-scale Death Star and fry us poor ants looking for some quiet in between the all-you-can-eat buffets and progressive slots? OK, they put a "film" over the glass...big whoop. Isn't that like using cling wrap to look at a solar eclipse?
To compensate, the hotel has put out large umbrellas in the pool area until they can fix the problem. I say don't fix the problem. I say use it. You've got a "death ray" that can melt plastic, and the whole thing beams right down into a pool. I say that's a good start for some great outdoor cooking. Can you imagine how many lobsters and shrimp they could fit in that pool? Add some pulled pork and ribs stations around the edge of the pool area, LOTS of beer, and enough salad fixin's to choke Harvey, and you've got one helluva party. And, bonus!, no one would complain about Darth Vdara zapping their skin off.
Or maybe I should just stop talking...
The other thing that caught my attention this week was a commercial I saw on TV. Now, usually I don't pay heed to what's on during commercial breaks. Like most of you, I find commercials tedious at best. But while I'm sitting there waiting for my show to come back on, I hear this commercial for some new drug. (Don't know the name, don't care.) It's your standard "this is why we're so amazing, and these are the NUMEROUS side effects we cause, but use us anyway, please?" drug commercial. But here's the kicker. At one point the narrator actually used the phrase, "Fukytal (name changed cuz it's funnier) is thought to work by..." Um, 'scuse me? It's "thought" to work? You spend millions of dollars developing this drug, getting it through the FDA, marketing it, and you don't KNOW how it works? What, exactly, was your testing like?
"Here, Bob, (sorry, Dr. Bob) try this pill."
"Tastes like an M&M."
"OK, try this one."
"Tic Tac?"
"Very good. And this one?"
"Haven't had this before, but all my problems are solved. How'd you do it?"
"I'm not sure, but I'm glad you ate the M&M first. Just in case."
I'm sorry, but if you're a pharmaceutical company developing new drugs that you expect us to buy and use continually, then please, for the love of whatever God you pray to, do not go on national television and tell us you don't know how it works. It's fine if you don't, just don't tell us that. I don't need to know how a cow became the porterhouse I wolfed down yesterday to know that I enjoyed it. Consequently, I don't need to be told that you don't know how your own drug works. Lie to me. Tell me it works by putting rainbows in my head and making everything smell like Chunky Monkey ice cream. I'll know you're lying, but I'll accept it. You tell me you don't know, and our relationship is over.
At least, that's how I think it works...
So for now, those are the two stories that have me entertained. More will come. They always do. If you've heard of any, please share. Include links if you can; I'm always looking for more ways to laugh. Aren't you?
But then something pops up that just strikes me as funny, insane, stupid, or a mad scientist's amalgam of all of the above. The first story that caught my eye was found on Yahoo. It was written by Brett Michael Dykes and posted on September 29. The headline reads, and I quote, "Swanky new Vegas hotel's 'death ray' proves inconvenient for some guests." OK, color me tickled...
Apparently, the new Vdara hotel in Sin City is a concave-shaped building whose exterior is all glass. These two facts, coupled with the oh-so-brutal Nevada sun, creates this "sort of magnifying-glass effect" that has burned guests in the pool area and melted plastic. Anticipating this possibility beforehand, the designers placed a film over the glass. It hasn't helped. So here's my question: Seriously? No one thought that placing a giant magnifying glass in the freakin' Nevada desert might create a small-scale Death Star and fry us poor ants looking for some quiet in between the all-you-can-eat buffets and progressive slots? OK, they put a "film" over the glass...big whoop. Isn't that like using cling wrap to look at a solar eclipse?
To compensate, the hotel has put out large umbrellas in the pool area until they can fix the problem. I say don't fix the problem. I say use it. You've got a "death ray" that can melt plastic, and the whole thing beams right down into a pool. I say that's a good start for some great outdoor cooking. Can you imagine how many lobsters and shrimp they could fit in that pool? Add some pulled pork and ribs stations around the edge of the pool area, LOTS of beer, and enough salad fixin's to choke Harvey, and you've got one helluva party. And, bonus!, no one would complain about Darth Vdara zapping their skin off.
Or maybe I should just stop talking...
The other thing that caught my attention this week was a commercial I saw on TV. Now, usually I don't pay heed to what's on during commercial breaks. Like most of you, I find commercials tedious at best. But while I'm sitting there waiting for my show to come back on, I hear this commercial for some new drug. (Don't know the name, don't care.) It's your standard "this is why we're so amazing, and these are the NUMEROUS side effects we cause, but use us anyway, please?" drug commercial. But here's the kicker. At one point the narrator actually used the phrase, "Fukytal (name changed cuz it's funnier) is thought to work by..." Um, 'scuse me? It's "thought" to work? You spend millions of dollars developing this drug, getting it through the FDA, marketing it, and you don't KNOW how it works? What, exactly, was your testing like?
"Here, Bob, (sorry, Dr. Bob) try this pill."
"Tastes like an M&M."
"OK, try this one."
"Tic Tac?"
"Very good. And this one?"
"Haven't had this before, but all my problems are solved. How'd you do it?"
"I'm not sure, but I'm glad you ate the M&M first. Just in case."
I'm sorry, but if you're a pharmaceutical company developing new drugs that you expect us to buy and use continually, then please, for the love of whatever God you pray to, do not go on national television and tell us you don't know how it works. It's fine if you don't, just don't tell us that. I don't need to know how a cow became the porterhouse I wolfed down yesterday to know that I enjoyed it. Consequently, I don't need to be told that you don't know how your own drug works. Lie to me. Tell me it works by putting rainbows in my head and making everything smell like Chunky Monkey ice cream. I'll know you're lying, but I'll accept it. You tell me you don't know, and our relationship is over.
At least, that's how I think it works...
So for now, those are the two stories that have me entertained. More will come. They always do. If you've heard of any, please share. Include links if you can; I'm always looking for more ways to laugh. Aren't you?
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Be Gentle...It's My First Time
And truthfully, Mile High "Madness" may be pushing it. I'm not some wild and crazy dingus looking to toot his own horn. I am, however, in an interesting place in my life. One I'd like to share with people either in the same situation (and I hope to God you're not), or about to be. So, for my first ever blog post, I'm going to give you some history - a brief one, we have just met, after all - about who I am and why I'm here.
You know those people who don't do anything with their lives? Not the "I'm the VP of XYZ Corp., marrried to a supermodel, driving a new car every month, vacationing in a summer home bigger than the White House, but inside I'm lonely and unsatisfied" types, the "how in the hell did I get to be 36 without ever doing anything" types. Well, that's me. Not sure how it happened, to be honest, but I've got a few ideas.
I was shy in high school. Again, not the "Shawn's really cool, but he's kind of shy" type, the "who the hell is Shawn?" type. It was nobody's fault except mine. And after high school, I worked really hard to not be that guy anymore. Sometimes it worked; mostly, it didn't. Leaving out a lot of details, we'll just jump ahead to last year. ..
I was 2 years into a great marriage, and 7 years into a crappy job. If I had stayed at the job any longer, the marriage would've suffered. So, rather than caving in to her primal urges and bludgeoning me with a frying pan or her old PC (a perfect excuse, in her mind, to go buy a new one), my wife was nice enough to tell me it was time to go back to school and finish my degree. She was right, and I did. I enrolled at the Metropolitan State College of Denver as a journalism major in January 2009. I took one class, but not because I was lazy; I waited too long and it was the only one available. (Hey, I said it "sometimes" worked, didn't I?)
For the next 18 months, that was my life. I went to school full-time and took care of the house while my wife supported us. Things were great, for me. I wasn't working at all, but I was writing again, which I hadn't done since dropping out of college the first time. (Again, my fault, no one else's.) I was in the blossoming stages of a freelance writing business...
SHAMELESS PLUG!!!!!
WriteBrain5280 - for all of your freelance writing and editing needs. Specializing in news reporting, marketing copy, technical communications, essays & editorials, fiction & nonfiction, copy editing (using AP-style marks and guidelines) and copywriting. Email writebrain5280@yahoo.com for details.
END SHAMLESS PLUG!!!!!
...and I was practically letting our two little dogs starve from neglect while I worked on my novel. (As for the dogs, that's really saying something. If you saw them, you'd know it wouldn't take much to let them waste away.) Then, well, things changed. They usually do. Sometimes you see it coming, most of the time you don't.
This time, I didn't.
My wife, for reasons that remain between her and I (and family members who already know everything), decided to end our marriage after 3 years. That was three months ago. Since then, like most of America apparently, I've been looking for a job. With no money of my own, and no prospects, I have moved back in with my parents. Like everyone else, I'm sending out countless resumes every day. I'm even qualified for some of the positions, so that's kind of a bonus. So far, however, it's come down to one nibble, and they just threw me back for a bigger catch.
Which brings me (FINALLY!!! you say) to the reason for this blog. I'm here because I want to write. I am not able to make a living at it just yet, but I don't want to stop doing it either. A few of the jobs I'm looking at require some blogging experience, which until...oh, I don't know...15 minutes ago I didn't have, and this gives me something to show them when the selection process starts. It's also a way for me to control the emotions, good and bad. I'm here because I don't want to stop doing something I love, and I want other people to be able to speak up, and speak out, about the things that are happening to them.
I have a lot to say on things, I'm just not an expert on any of them. I know, I know...who is? But they're out there. Trust me. This internet thingy wouldn't be as popular if someone wasn't doing well at it.
Anyway, enough for one day. I'm not here to tell you about things you should know, or things you want to know. I'm here to talk about things that affect everyone. They have affected us, they do affect us, and they will affect us. I welcome all reasonable and polite feedback and comments, and will do what I can to entertain you with the minute details of a life evolving.
See you again soon. Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel.
You know those people who don't do anything with their lives? Not the "I'm the VP of XYZ Corp., marrried to a supermodel, driving a new car every month, vacationing in a summer home bigger than the White House, but inside I'm lonely and unsatisfied" types, the "how in the hell did I get to be 36 without ever doing anything" types. Well, that's me. Not sure how it happened, to be honest, but I've got a few ideas.
I was shy in high school. Again, not the "Shawn's really cool, but he's kind of shy" type, the "who the hell is Shawn?" type. It was nobody's fault except mine. And after high school, I worked really hard to not be that guy anymore. Sometimes it worked; mostly, it didn't. Leaving out a lot of details, we'll just jump ahead to last year. ..
I was 2 years into a great marriage, and 7 years into a crappy job. If I had stayed at the job any longer, the marriage would've suffered. So, rather than caving in to her primal urges and bludgeoning me with a frying pan or her old PC (a perfect excuse, in her mind, to go buy a new one), my wife was nice enough to tell me it was time to go back to school and finish my degree. She was right, and I did. I enrolled at the Metropolitan State College of Denver as a journalism major in January 2009. I took one class, but not because I was lazy; I waited too long and it was the only one available. (Hey, I said it "sometimes" worked, didn't I?)
For the next 18 months, that was my life. I went to school full-time and took care of the house while my wife supported us. Things were great, for me. I wasn't working at all, but I was writing again, which I hadn't done since dropping out of college the first time. (Again, my fault, no one else's.) I was in the blossoming stages of a freelance writing business...
SHAMELESS PLUG!!!!!
WriteBrain5280 - for all of your freelance writing and editing needs. Specializing in news reporting, marketing copy, technical communications, essays & editorials, fiction & nonfiction, copy editing (using AP-style marks and guidelines) and copywriting. Email writebrain5280@yahoo.com for details.
END SHAMLESS PLUG!!!!!
...and I was practically letting our two little dogs starve from neglect while I worked on my novel. (As for the dogs, that's really saying something. If you saw them, you'd know it wouldn't take much to let them waste away.) Then, well, things changed. They usually do. Sometimes you see it coming, most of the time you don't.
This time, I didn't.
My wife, for reasons that remain between her and I (and family members who already know everything), decided to end our marriage after 3 years. That was three months ago. Since then, like most of America apparently, I've been looking for a job. With no money of my own, and no prospects, I have moved back in with my parents. Like everyone else, I'm sending out countless resumes every day. I'm even qualified for some of the positions, so that's kind of a bonus. So far, however, it's come down to one nibble, and they just threw me back for a bigger catch.
Which brings me (FINALLY!!! you say) to the reason for this blog. I'm here because I want to write. I am not able to make a living at it just yet, but I don't want to stop doing it either. A few of the jobs I'm looking at require some blogging experience, which until...oh, I don't know...15 minutes ago I didn't have, and this gives me something to show them when the selection process starts. It's also a way for me to control the emotions, good and bad. I'm here because I don't want to stop doing something I love, and I want other people to be able to speak up, and speak out, about the things that are happening to them.
I have a lot to say on things, I'm just not an expert on any of them. I know, I know...who is? But they're out there. Trust me. This internet thingy wouldn't be as popular if someone wasn't doing well at it.
Anyway, enough for one day. I'm not here to tell you about things you should know, or things you want to know. I'm here to talk about things that affect everyone. They have affected us, they do affect us, and they will affect us. I welcome all reasonable and polite feedback and comments, and will do what I can to entertain you with the minute details of a life evolving.
See you again soon. Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel.
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