Monday, November 27, 2006


[migrated from myspace blog]

I think I've figured out why I write so much on here. It's not that people are actually reading it (I know, hard to believe, but there have been something like 700 hits on my blog since I started). Somewhere along the line, maybe around the end of college or the next few years following, I began to feel a desire to write. I was already through with all my English, Writing, and Literature classes I would ever take, at that point, but I believe the desire came from somewhere else. First of all, starting with one summer during college, I started reading for enjoyment again. From that point I've pretty much been collecting books and wearing out my library card. I'm not saying I've read a tremendous amount of books compared to a lot of people, but my reading list is more than I can keep up with (I'm not even that fast of a reader.) Secondly I've grown, through books, movies, and television, to have a great respect for the art of presenting a story that can be maintained for as much as 800 pages, or 2-3 hours on screen. It's this second factor with which I think I've been obssessed.

I've always had a great respect for art in general (maybe not so much with the opera.) For someone like me who doesn't have any great artistic skill, it's easy to be in awe of someone who can paint a masterpiece, compose a great song, or write an epic novel (or seven) telling one story with dozens of characters, settings, and subplots without having it fall apart at the seams. Also there's just something about that image of a person alone in front of a typewriter (or laptop, now) actually creating something out of nothing. "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." Okay, so maybe Kubrick and Nicholson don't make the most compelling argument for being a writer.

At least with music I can comprehend what it takes to develop the skill to be a decent musician, although songwriting is a whole different level. I took a photography class several years ago because I saw that as an art form I could actually take part in. And I did for awhile. But something like painting, or sculpting, I can't even begin to understand. So why do I have some illusion I could write a great story. Maybe even one someone might want to read? I think it has to do with the fact that writing, in and of itself is that that difficult. I could sit here all day long and write pages and pages of meaningless unconnected thoughts that wouldn't be worth the bandwidth they're wasting (and maybe that's all I'm doing now.) It's easy to tell myself that if I only had a really good story idea, or a really well developed character to write about, that I could write it. That's probably the equivalent of saying that because I can strum a few chords I should be able to write Stairway to Heaven.

(Don't expect a better ending. I'm not a writer. But I wonder if I could play one on TV?)

Friday, November 24, 2006

Customer Disservice

[migrated from myspace blog]

It seems to me lately that people in service industries aren't even trying. They don't really care anything about doing a good job, and would do their job from home if they thought they could get away with it. It's like not effort is being made, and the only reason anyone will help you is to get you to stop bugging them.

Red Lobster: Clueless waiter allowed three of us to sit at a table with garlic cheese biscuits and 1 dirty biscuit plate without ever bringing any extras or clean ones. My side dish was not what I ordered and I think he stopped at the table a total of two times after taking our order. We actually had to send a waitress to look for him so we could get the bill.

Sam's Club: After making a purchase that required going to the customer service, they took approximately no interest in actually getting what was already paid for. Couldn't find the keys to the cage, and after they did, took their sweet time actually getting it.

Circuit City: Okay, first of all, their stores are just arranged poorly. The cash registers are scattered all over the store, and they apparently don't do any training whatsoever for Black Friday the way Best Buy does. But $13 for a 2 gig micro flash drive for my keychain was too good to pass up at 5 AM. The girl running the cash register in the back by the computer products wasn't even in her own department. At least one employee had failed to show up. It took two people to figure out how to open the little plastic boxes that hold smaller products using the magnet. It took her about 35 minutes to get through 6 customers. Meanwhile there are about 300 more people still in line outside in the cold because she doesn't know how to ring up a computer, and the cash register software is running slow. (Then I saw the guy who figured out how to open the security boxes later tonight at the Schuster Center where he was apparently seeing Cats. I wasn't there to see Cats, but that's a whole different story.) It's one thing to find a good deal, but is it really worth is when it costs 2 1/2 hours of sleep and a total of an hour standing in line as well?

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Imaginary Midgets

[migrated from myspace blog]

Okay, so it's probably not socially acceptable to laugh at drunk people, but no one got hurt, and I can't help it...

So maybe drunk people aren't funny, but you have to admit, seeing midgets that aren't there warrants a laugh.

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Blazin' Buffalo and Ranch Doritos

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In the course of some Thanksgiving grocery shopping I happened upon a new(er) flavor of Doritos I had not seen before. [Repeat subject line here.] I picked up a bag on impulse. I like most "buffalo" flavored foods, and I like Cool Ranch Doritos, so what's not to like?. I guess I was expecting a bit of literal taste interpretation of the name. Like Frank's RedHot with some creamy ranch dressing. But it seems they really did just mix together Cool Ranch with one of the spicy Dorito flavors, so there's not really a creamy flavor at all, and the buffalo portion, while spicy, is only arguable as "buffalo".

The original buffalo sauce was nothing more than Frank's RedHot and melted butter mixed together at Anchor Bar in Buffalo, New York. (Pay attention Jessica Simpson. No buffalo meat required.) So until Frito-Lay is prepared to partner up with Frank's to get some real "buffalo" flavor, I'd suggest a more conservative use of the word. That being said, as corn chips go, you could do a whole lot worse (unless you just hate spicy, cool-ranchy flavors, of course, in which case you need help.)

Tuesday, November 7, 2006


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"There comes a special moment in everyone's life, a moment for which that person was born. That special opportunity, when he seizes it, will fulfill his mission, a mission for which he is uniquely qualified. And in that moment, he finds greatness. It is his finest hour."
- Winston Churchill

Wednesday, November 1, 2006

2 Cor 4:16-18

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Therefore we do not lose heart, but though our outer man is decaying, yet our inner man is being renewed day by day. For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison, while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal.