Writer's Quarrel

I feel like the "simple life" is greatly underrated. I can't help but wonder how much more I would get done in a day if I didn't waste my time focusing on the wrong things. There are too many distractions, even in this quiet town. It's frustrating for a writer. I can easily get side tracked if there is a television on in the room (even muted), my phone starts ringing, or if I have the sudden urge to tweet some meaningless piece of dialogue that I overheard in the grocery store today. I should be contributing to a real piece of work and hone in on my craft.

And there I go, searching for an alternate word in the online thesaurus because I don't want to use the same word again. However, I accidentally click on the tab for Twitter. By doing so I illuminate the true redundancy in my life which encompasses the technology that we as humans are ever so magnetized to. This technology is wrongfully associated with our leisure time and the "simple life." As we know the "simple life" isn't all that simple. But, technology definitely makes it easier. Easy living. Simple life. They sound pretty similar. However, we know damn well how easily technology can complicate our lives. I mean, shit, we survive on our Keurig coffee machines and GPS units. If you remove these things, we may never find our way to work. It's a sad cup of coffee; half empty. But, hey, it holds some truth.

I feel like I need to lock myself in an empty room with pencils and paper and just write. No. That makes me sound annoyingly proud and pretentious. So, scratch that. I'll lock myself in a room with a laptop. However, this laptop will only have writing software and that is it. But, you know what? It's hard to find laptops like that these days. They always want to fill it with junk and other things that take up space until you have 73 icons on your desktop. 

Back to basics. That's all I'm trying to say. Let me find inspiration in the wind, starry nights, and my weird neighbors again. And may I shy away from the temptations (not the Motown group, which I love) of day time television, the entangling web of sites on the...interweb, and all of the other distractions found in our lives.

Now quick, let me post this on my blog and tweet it to my 46 followers. Oh wow, what's this? A magazine which showcases the Bachelor, which I have zero interest in. However, there's a slew of attractive women hanging around him. What do you know? Sex does sell.

Third of a Life Crisis

     Things that are overrated: “stable” jobs, good benefits (a.k.a. bennies), and pension plans. It’s interesting. A stable job, which you hate, seems to make you quite the opposite: something like umm, unstable. This is due to the monotony that dictates your existence. Your passion lies dormant. By the end of the day your brain rests, smoking on a long Virginia Slim, as you sit and stare at a wall. The only thing you manage to mutter is, “Hmm. That sure is a wall.” Your passion, like an old friend says, “Hey man. Remember me? So…what’s new?”

     Benefits are actually really important. So, I can’t say with 100% conviction that benefits are overrated. This is one of the anchors of any job. Benefits alone can be the deciding factor when it comes to debating your next move. One thing is for sure though--the moment you decide to take a chance on your passion and forget about your great benefits is when life will say, “Hey, look out for…Too late. That sure looked painful. I hope you have good insurance.”

     A pension plan seems like a great, practical…thing. But, really, the only thing you’re planning on is living to see your pension. You might have been great at dodge ball in elementary school and maybe you still have moves like Jagger. However, sometimes you just can’t dodge cancer, heart disease, and that demon Mack truck heading your way. So, chances are this American "ideal" probably won't work for you. Sorry to sound so bitter. But, life is like that bitch in The Rolling Stones song, "She's So Cold"...it's so cold.

     In conclusion, I probably shouldn't complain. But, what the hell, everybody else does. There's a time and a place to grow some balls. Usually that's in your mother's womb. In my case, it's right now...probably not though. I'm my worst enemy, my worst critic, and my worst nightmare--not exactly in that order. I guess I'll keep on keep keepin' on, doing what I'ma gonna do. Now I'm just rambling. 

     I'm going to write a second conclusion like a hobbit would eat a second breakfast. In conclusion, I'm just going to grab life by the...not balls because that's weird...not boobs because that's perverted. So, there will be no grabbing whatsoever.  Instead I will...eventually take a chance...and maybe get life into a headlock.

I Done Got Showered

A surprise indeed.

Midnight Munchies

www.youtube.com/watch?v=AqNxIi1g3RI

When My Dad Finally Sees the Redwoods

One fateful day my dad will trek through the mighty pine, through the mystical forest and leave his footprint next to the greatest Redwood anyone has ever seen! He will then realize that that footprint isn't actually his, but of a twelve foot tall Sasquatch. Suddenly, what should appear before his very eyes? Yes, the friendliest of squirrels named Chipmunk--he has quite the identity crisis. Then, suddenly, the biggest foot of feet smashes down upon the squirrel. Dad trembles and slowly looks up to see the montrosity before him. But, to his astonishment, it's just an average sized man lurking around with an over sized boot--maybe a Doc Martin, maybe a Timberland, I don't know. For some reason dad is without any shoes, boots, footware whatsoever because he wanted to be one with nature and feel the earth beneath his feet. Then he realizes that his foot pain tolerance is nonexistent and begins to freak out due to a baby splinter lodged in his toe.

"The sun appears to be falling away to the dark side of the Earth," says the man.

"Nope. That's just the shadow of a Sasquatch behind you bro," replies Dad.

The Sasquatch grabs the man.

"Ahhh!" screams Dad.

The man manages to get out his last words, "Here. Take my boot."

"I can't. It's your only boot," replies Dad.

"Take the boot man. Where I'm going, they don't wear boots or boot. Take it. I insist," says the man insistently.

Dad cries for what seems to be an eternity.

"I do have one last request. Can you tell my wife that I love her and that there really is a Big Foot?" exclaims the man.

But, it's too late. Dad has already made his getaway--both feet in one boot, hopping off in the distance.

Drunkard: The Christmas Party Elf

www.youtube.com/watch?v=aSPRU56hS0k

Ethnic Foody

     Sometimes it's really hard to find really good ethnic food. Some people will be like, "Aww man. I discovered this new Mexican restaurant." Oh really? You discovered it? Are you an explorer now? Oh okay. So, you just thought you were the first person to discover it--sort of like Christopher Columbus with America?
     Everyone knows someone like that: the Chris Columbus of restaurants. They feel like no one else knows about their restaurant--not even the other people eating there, not even the owner who in fact founded the place. I don't know why they even tell anyone about their secret place, because they're just going to get mad when it becomes popular. "Oh no. They're blogging about it now. I'll be the first to comment."
     I think the best way to find great ethnic food is to find the right people. For instance, if I want to find a great Korean restaurant, I have to find me some Koreans. Then I need to stalk them and figure out where they dine. Sure, I could find a good Korean restaurant just by asking around or by surfing the web. I'll go to that highly reccomended place and enjoy the food. But, I will eventually realize that there aren't any Koreans in there eating this "Korean" food--just doofuses like me and that random Chinese American guy who was brought here by his friends because they thought he was Korean. I'm going to live by a saying that I never heard before because I'm just making it up right now. The saying is, "If you want to eat ethnic, stalk the ethnic."

Here are some tips:

1. Go to a Home Depot parking lot. You'll find a group of Mexicans. Follow them if you want great Mexican cuisine. If you're lucky, you'll find yourself at the border--and I don't mean Taco Bell.

2. If you want authentic Brazilian food, go to a Brazilian Jiu-jitsu dojo. There's bound to be a Brazilian or two there. Step two: Follow them home. But don't sneak up on them or you'll find yourself in an arm bar.

3. There are quite a few options as far as authentic Indian food goes. First you can stop by your local convenient store and just ask one of the clerks. You can also stop by your local gas station and ask one of those guys--fill it up while you're at it. Lastly, you can just ask that one Indian friend that you have. Come on now, everybody has that one Indian friend--because two would be too much. Better yet, just stop by his house and eat some home cooked Indian food because hey, it doesn't get any better than that--even if you sweat profusely and all of the Indian people point and laugh at you.