The not-so-good morning
"Is this what you want to do?" she asked me. "Yes" wasn't an answer I was prepared to give. That seemed ok before, but yesterday my hesitation weighed heavily on my innards. Is it really hesitation if it's lasted 8 years? I played it off poorly, "That's the question of my life."
We circled advertising, but her memories of the world were everything I didn't want. She claimed it was great training and recalled her experience fondly, but I was mired in her description of the long hours, the high pressured accounts, and a lack of disagreement when the word soulless came to my lips. I think that window has closed. What door has it opened?
I mentioned teaching. The fall back option that I've never even tripped toward. She murmured and there it sat. We moved on to other topics, but "is this what you want to do?" sticks with me like gum to the bus seat.
It was fine not knowing what to do two years out of college. Fine to stay for the benefits five years in. It was mostly fine last week. It lets me do what I want to do, I'd say. With injury and summer lurking, I'm left to wonder. It's ten years out, now. It's not as cute as it once was. Time wasn't supposed to change things, me, this way. It's ok not to know what to do, but it might be about time to start thinking about a plan. Retirement calls after all.
Showing posts with label God-Fearing End-of-the-world Sidewalk Prophesier. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God-Fearing End-of-the-world Sidewalk Prophesier. Show all posts
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Who is this guy?
I am unprepared for the grays that have entered my existence. In late late December of ’08, I did something that would be almost inconceivable to the 2004 model of me. I bought a cell phone. It’s a pre-pay phone and those who call me will tell you that I’m harder to reach now than ever before. I do send some text messages and even answer the thing in public sometimes, but I also tend to forget it, let the batteries run low, and check my messages promptly in a matter of days or even a week.
There were many factors that led to my decision, but none so much as cost. The cost of a landline on my own and that of a cell phone were nearly identical. Although I do sometimes stare inquisitively at the house plant that has replaced the home phone waiting for it to give me messages, I knew that if I was going to pay the same price, I might as well give in to the cell phone fad.
I railed in this space against cell phones, but now that I have one I better understand the challenges of those I’ve railed against. I still try to take my calls outside of a store or earshot when I can. I shorten the conversation as much as possible when I’m on the Metro, even trying to use the text message feature more often there. The one thing I do like that I never thought I would is the walking and talking. I’m sure it makes me more susceptible to getting run over by a car or bus, but it makes a lot of sense. Rarely, do I see a person I know on my way home. Rarely, do I speak to a stranger. It feels rather useful to use that walking time to make a needed phone call to my parents or a friend. It seems efficient, effective, and sometimes even rewarding. I guess the walking talkers knew that all along.
The lines of right and wrong, black and white, they start to blur. Now it’s ok to walk and talk, but not ok to walk and talk on the phone in a crowd? Maybe the line needs to blur some in the other direction too. If it’s ok to walk and talk, then it’s ok for someone on the street to interrupt the conversation? My rulebook doesn’t have the answers, but I suspect that I’m looking for some intersection of utility and respect for others. I think I also need to look in my rulebook for some everyday forgiveness knowing that rulebooks may not all be the same.
There’s more gray, but it belongs in a vacation post. I may not be entirely comfortable in the grays, but I was pretty comfortable on vacation.
I am unprepared for the grays that have entered my existence. In late late December of ’08, I did something that would be almost inconceivable to the 2004 model of me. I bought a cell phone. It’s a pre-pay phone and those who call me will tell you that I’m harder to reach now than ever before. I do send some text messages and even answer the thing in public sometimes, but I also tend to forget it, let the batteries run low, and check my messages promptly in a matter of days or even a week.
There were many factors that led to my decision, but none so much as cost. The cost of a landline on my own and that of a cell phone were nearly identical. Although I do sometimes stare inquisitively at the house plant that has replaced the home phone waiting for it to give me messages, I knew that if I was going to pay the same price, I might as well give in to the cell phone fad.
I railed in this space against cell phones, but now that I have one I better understand the challenges of those I’ve railed against. I still try to take my calls outside of a store or earshot when I can. I shorten the conversation as much as possible when I’m on the Metro, even trying to use the text message feature more often there. The one thing I do like that I never thought I would is the walking and talking. I’m sure it makes me more susceptible to getting run over by a car or bus, but it makes a lot of sense. Rarely, do I see a person I know on my way home. Rarely, do I speak to a stranger. It feels rather useful to use that walking time to make a needed phone call to my parents or a friend. It seems efficient, effective, and sometimes even rewarding. I guess the walking talkers knew that all along.
The lines of right and wrong, black and white, they start to blur. Now it’s ok to walk and talk, but not ok to walk and talk on the phone in a crowd? Maybe the line needs to blur some in the other direction too. If it’s ok to walk and talk, then it’s ok for someone on the street to interrupt the conversation? My rulebook doesn’t have the answers, but I suspect that I’m looking for some intersection of utility and respect for others. I think I also need to look in my rulebook for some everyday forgiveness knowing that rulebooks may not all be the same.
There’s more gray, but it belongs in a vacation post. I may not be entirely comfortable in the grays, but I was pretty comfortable on vacation.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Summer at Mordor?
I'm starting to be concerned about the Olympics. Between revoked visas and the Sally Jenkins' column regarding questionable air quality and corporate sponsorships, I worry. One of the favorites in the men's marathon has already dropped out. Supposedly, events over an hour scheduled on days when air quality is bad will be rescheduled. It almost makes the days of drug scandals seem like the good old days. The Olympics haven't even started. Maybe I should worry less about the Olympics and more about China (or the world?) in general.
I'm starting to be concerned about the Olympics. Between revoked visas and the Sally Jenkins' column regarding questionable air quality and corporate sponsorships, I worry. One of the favorites in the men's marathon has already dropped out. Supposedly, events over an hour scheduled on days when air quality is bad will be rescheduled. It almost makes the days of drug scandals seem like the good old days. The Olympics haven't even started. Maybe I should worry less about the Olympics and more about China (or the world?) in general.
Monday, June 11, 2007
The straw before the straw
The little things are getting on my nerves lately. I suspect it's related to lack of exercise. Today, a very little thing about sent me over the edge. I was grocery shopping. On my list were the item eggs. Eggs is probably too strong for what I want. I really just want "egg". I think I've used an egg in the last three months. It was time for another. I'm willing to plop down $1.50 for one egg and 5 eggs that will have unrealized potential, which is really doubling their unrealized potential. First they are not baby chickens and then they are not brownies. The eggs that pick me end up seriously down on the actualization scale. If there is an actualization scale.
I looked around at the eggs and saw the various dozen egg holders. Now, back in the day, the last time I bought eggs, I could tear one of those dozen containers to make two six-egg single-guy friendly egg carrying cases with extra ventilation. I ripped and clawed and eventually came up with one this time. It was a lot harder than I remembered. As I was being checked out, the checker paused and looked at the eggs. She was new, so I didn't think much of it until she said, "Did you rip this? Because we don't sell them like that."
I nervously laughed and said, "You should."
She called her manager over and he looked at them too. He wasn't new, but by then I was embarrassed and unable to get my words out. He said, "We don't sell these."
I wanted to eloquently state that I had no $#%@%$# use for 12 eggs, but all he got was my sheepish grin. At about that same moment he opened up my six eggs and noticed one was broken. "One is broken," he told me. "Give it to him for a dollar," he sighed. The checker confirmed that I still wanted the 5 good eggs and 1 broken one.
I should have cried out, "HECK YES! That puts me closer to my actual egg need," but instead there was vigorous head-shaking.
Epilogue: I have emailed my displeasure to Safeway. I am trying to decide whether next time I should buy 12 eggs and then drop 11 of them on the floor, along with a note that says, "bring back the six." It will be in lowercase letters because they are ominous.
The little things are getting on my nerves lately. I suspect it's related to lack of exercise. Today, a very little thing about sent me over the edge. I was grocery shopping. On my list were the item eggs. Eggs is probably too strong for what I want. I really just want "egg". I think I've used an egg in the last three months. It was time for another. I'm willing to plop down $1.50 for one egg and 5 eggs that will have unrealized potential, which is really doubling their unrealized potential. First they are not baby chickens and then they are not brownies. The eggs that pick me end up seriously down on the actualization scale. If there is an actualization scale.
I looked around at the eggs and saw the various dozen egg holders. Now, back in the day, the last time I bought eggs, I could tear one of those dozen containers to make two six-egg single-guy friendly egg carrying cases with extra ventilation. I ripped and clawed and eventually came up with one this time. It was a lot harder than I remembered. As I was being checked out, the checker paused and looked at the eggs. She was new, so I didn't think much of it until she said, "Did you rip this? Because we don't sell them like that."
I nervously laughed and said, "You should."
She called her manager over and he looked at them too. He wasn't new, but by then I was embarrassed and unable to get my words out. He said, "We don't sell these."
I wanted to eloquently state that I had no $#%@%$# use for 12 eggs, but all he got was my sheepish grin. At about that same moment he opened up my six eggs and noticed one was broken. "One is broken," he told me. "Give it to him for a dollar," he sighed. The checker confirmed that I still wanted the 5 good eggs and 1 broken one.
I should have cried out, "HECK YES! That puts me closer to my actual egg need," but instead there was vigorous head-shaking.
Epilogue: I have emailed my displeasure to Safeway. I am trying to decide whether next time I should buy 12 eggs and then drop 11 of them on the floor, along with a note that says, "bring back the six." It will be in lowercase letters because they are ominous.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
My favorite Super Bowl ad succumbed to mental health problems
The GM robot so concerned about quality that he committed suicide in a dream was poignant, funny, well-done, and apparently offensive.
Boo.
If this commercial trivialized suicide, didn't the Doritos commercial trivialize car crashes, the Emerald Nuts commercial trivialize Robert Goulet, and the Bud ads trivialize everything?
Yes. Commercials are 30-seconds long and have one basic goal- YOU, BUY STUFF. That's TRIVIAL! Get over it.
The GM robot so concerned about quality that he committed suicide in a dream was poignant, funny, well-done, and apparently offensive.
Boo.
If this commercial trivialized suicide, didn't the Doritos commercial trivialize car crashes, the Emerald Nuts commercial trivialize Robert Goulet, and the Bud ads trivialize everything?
Yes. Commercials are 30-seconds long and have one basic goal- YOU, BUY STUFF. That's TRIVIAL! Get over it.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
CAPITAL LETTERS DO IT BIGGER
IN EVERY BLOGGER'S LIFE THERE COMES A TIME WHEN HE/SHE/IT MUST LOOK INSIDE HIMSELF/HERSELF/ITSELF AND ASK "HAVE I SAID ALL THERE IS TO SAY?" THIS QUESTION IS OFTEN FOLLOWED BY THE DEEPER AND SLIGHTLY MORE INTROSPECTIVE, "CAN THERE REALLY BE LIMITS TO MY VANITY?"
FOR SOME OF US, THESE QUESTIONS GET POSED ON A DAILY BASIS. ME, I RAN OUT OF STUFF TO SAY IN 2004. NOW I JUST REMINISCE ABOUT THOSE DAYS. SOMETIMES I DO IT IN CAPITAL LETTERS, BECAUSE AS WE ALL KNOW CAPITAL LETTERS ARE THE WRITTEN EQUIVALENT OF SHOUTING. AND NOTHING SAYS WORTHWHILE COMMUNICATION LIKE SHOUTING. ASK ANY GOD-FEARING END-OF-THE-WORLD SIDEWALK PROPHESIER, SHOUTING IS THE ONLY WAY TO REACH PEOPLE. SHOUTING AND SANDWICH BOARDS. SINCE THE BEGINNING OF TIME SHOUTING AND SANDWICH BOARDS HAVE CARRIED THE MESSAGES THAT REALLY MATTER, "THE END IS NEAR" "GOD HATES FILL-IN-THE-BLANK" "THE END IS NEAR BECAUSE GOD HATES FILL-IN-THE-BLANK"
MAYBE FILL-IN THE BLANK DOESN'T LIKE GOD THAT MUCH AND FOR THAT MATTER WHEN IS NEAR? NOBODY (20/20 AND MR. STOSSEL I'M LOOKING AT YOUS) EVER LOOKS AT THE PROPAGANDA MACHINE THAT PRODUCES SANDWICH BOARDS. WHEN'S THE LAST TIME WE SAW A GOOD EXPOSE ON A SIDEWALK PROPHET? HAVE THEY MOVED TO THE INTERNET? GIVEN UP ENTIRELY? GONE STRAIGHT TO XM SATELLITE RADIO? IT'S ABOUT TIME WE HEAR ABOUT IT. AND ALSO TIME TO GIVE THE OL' CAPS LOCK KEY A WHACK. That's better.
Shouting, like blogging loses it's appeal if we are allowed to go on too long. At least that's what I HEAR, when I still can.
IN EVERY BLOGGER'S LIFE THERE COMES A TIME WHEN HE/SHE/IT MUST LOOK INSIDE HIMSELF/HERSELF/ITSELF AND ASK "HAVE I SAID ALL THERE IS TO SAY?" THIS QUESTION IS OFTEN FOLLOWED BY THE DEEPER AND SLIGHTLY MORE INTROSPECTIVE, "CAN THERE REALLY BE LIMITS TO MY VANITY?"
FOR SOME OF US, THESE QUESTIONS GET POSED ON A DAILY BASIS. ME, I RAN OUT OF STUFF TO SAY IN 2004. NOW I JUST REMINISCE ABOUT THOSE DAYS. SOMETIMES I DO IT IN CAPITAL LETTERS, BECAUSE AS WE ALL KNOW CAPITAL LETTERS ARE THE WRITTEN EQUIVALENT OF SHOUTING. AND NOTHING SAYS WORTHWHILE COMMUNICATION LIKE SHOUTING. ASK ANY GOD-FEARING END-OF-THE-WORLD SIDEWALK PROPHESIER, SHOUTING IS THE ONLY WAY TO REACH PEOPLE. SHOUTING AND SANDWICH BOARDS. SINCE THE BEGINNING OF TIME SHOUTING AND SANDWICH BOARDS HAVE CARRIED THE MESSAGES THAT REALLY MATTER, "THE END IS NEAR" "GOD HATES FILL-IN-THE-BLANK" "THE END IS NEAR BECAUSE GOD HATES FILL-IN-THE-BLANK"
MAYBE FILL-IN THE BLANK DOESN'T LIKE GOD THAT MUCH AND FOR THAT MATTER WHEN IS NEAR? NOBODY (20/20 AND MR. STOSSEL I'M LOOKING AT YOUS) EVER LOOKS AT THE PROPAGANDA MACHINE THAT PRODUCES SANDWICH BOARDS. WHEN'S THE LAST TIME WE SAW A GOOD EXPOSE ON A SIDEWALK PROPHET? HAVE THEY MOVED TO THE INTERNET? GIVEN UP ENTIRELY? GONE STRAIGHT TO XM SATELLITE RADIO? IT'S ABOUT TIME WE HEAR ABOUT IT. AND ALSO TIME TO GIVE THE OL' CAPS LOCK KEY A WHACK. That's better.
Shouting, like blogging loses it's appeal if we are allowed to go on too long. At least that's what I HEAR, when I still can.
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