Huge herds of migratory poodles are on the move.

No matter what you think about global warming, the past few days have opened my eyes to just how fickle people are. First, some background: I saw a status on one of the popular social networking sites this last spring from someone complaining about the unseasonably cold temperatures. Understandable, but the thing that caught my eye was the blatant comment that went something along the lines of, "Global warming my ass, dumb motherfuckers!" I recall wanting to respond by asking if they knew the difference between weather and climate, but I held back.

Flash forward to today, well into November and the second consecutive day of 70° temps, and all I've heard concerning the weather is how nice it is and all the fun things people did or are going to do. Well, in all fairness, I've seen a lot of cheers and jeers over the House's health care vote, which is important, but I still find the silence curious. I guess I can assume that a yearlong mild summer is a good thing. In Iowa.

I'm allergic to my hair.

*blows off huge layer of dust*

Hey there, I'm sitting and waiting for my yummy chicken to cook because I was an idiot and didn't let it thaw completely, so I had to turn the heat down and increase my wait. Now I'm blogging.

I haven't been here for a couple months, and chances are that after this post, I may disappear again for a while. Most of the trials of grad school are behind me now, but I still have classwork and a bit of hoop-jumping to perform for the ringleader (who apparently likes to set the hoops on fire once in a while). All in all, it looks like only a little over a month to go and I'm done, and two months before the lease on my apartment runs out. While wrapping things up, I realized that I'm unconsciously obsessing about the transition, and one of those things is admittedly quite strange in comparison to the big picture; I must plan my meals and budget the food left in my kitchen so that it's all gone by the end of December.

Seriously, I worry about my mental health sometimes.

Cheese isn't a right; it's a privilege.

i was walking home last night with a friend after our night class, and the route we take cuts through a parking lot located between a rental property and a bar. Partway through the lot, we're interrupted by this piercing scream--the epitome of bloody murder. I flinched and started looking around to see where it came from, but with the acoustics in that area, I couldn't tell exactly. I finally looked up and saw this couple (I suppose you could call them chubby, portly, big-boned, etc.) standing at the railing of the deck, smoking and looking down at us. Apparently it was purely for our benefit. Gee, thanks.

After finding that the source was not someone being repeatedly stabbed in the shadows beside the bar, I turned away and shook my head in disbelief. From above we hear her say, dripping with disdain, "Pussies."

This is a prime example of why I'm torn about college. I can't describe how happy I am that I finally returned to school or how well things have turned out for me since then, but every fall I feel this strange mixture of rage and disappointment at the ignorance displayed by the hordes of returning students. How do you tell a drunk, stupid sow you're more afraid of the prospect that she is a representative of what I think is wrong with the upcoming generations than the fact that she gave us a few seconds of fright from a slasher-film scream? Or should I say, how do you tell her that without stooping to her level?

So after getting home, I decided to take the night off with a movie and headed to the local Hy-Vee in order to pick up some junk food to enhance my viewing pleasure. The conversation at the checkout lifted my spirits.

There's a guy who has worked there for what seems like forever, but I don't see him all that often. When I do, I don't hesitate to head for his register. Here's why, and I should mention that he'd just finished commenting on the previous customer's two boxes of Froot Loops:

Him: "How're you doing, sir? Do you like Froot Loops?"
Me: "I do enjoy Froot Loops once in a while, yes."
Him: "Me too. I always steal some from my little cousin when he eats them."
Me: "Ah, so you're one of those kinda guys."
Him: "No, I don't steal Froot Loops from babies." (pause) "Well, yeah I do, but it's okay, because he's stupid. I say stuff like, 'Hey, good job! You finished all your Froot Loops!'"

At this point the people behind me in line and I are laughing.

Him: "So, you got any plans tonight?" (This may sound strange, but I've never heard him not ask someone this question.)
Me: "Nope. The plan is to not have plans tonight."
Him: "Oh. You're dressed all spiffy, so I thought maybe you'd just come from somewhere or were headed out for the night."

I was dressed in a Dickies shirt, cargo shorts, and grubby work boots.

Me: "Wow, you call this spiffy?"
Him: "What can I say? I'm easily impressed."

That exchange was typical of every single conversation I've had with that guy, and I'm always chuckling about it afterward. Seriously, if there were only two registers open and I had to choose between him and some gorgeous, swimsuit model-type, I'd probably go through his lane. But I'd be craning my neck to see into the next lane.

Trojan horse small.BOG

Just popping on here to help out with anyone that may be having problems with their iTunes and AVG installs. For those that use only one or neither, you can just let your eyes go unfocused and hum the 1812 Overture for a while.

So, I was scared shitless yesterday when I went to fire up iTunes and my antivirus program, AVG, began screaming at me (not literally) that there were trojan horses oozing out of that directory (again, not literally--although some viruses do cause slight to major oozage). I must have been on one of the first waves of fear-inspired WTF, because googling brought up really only one result; a site I'm unfamiliar with telling me that nothing is wrong here, dude. Needless to say, I was skeptical.

Now that time has passed and people's internets have most likely been hammered by frantic music and antivirus fans, there has been a partial explanation and temporary fix. I suspect Bill Gates has been consulted on damage control, because it seems like his modus operandi. To save time, even though I've been admittedly rather long-winded about this, this guy seems to have summed it up quite effectively and efficiently.

One thing I'll address that I have yet to see; what happens if you're using the free version of AVG, which usually defaults to daily scanning and won't allow skipping directories? This morning, I awoke to find all those pesky files now ignored by the "fix" mentioned above sitting in my virus vault. Well, I threw caution to the wind in the name of science and came up with some yawn-inspiring results. Here's what I did; delete the entries in your virus vault and restart iTunes--Window$ (XP in this case) will just spend a minute reconfiguring iTunes and then start it normally.

Disclaimer: if you follow my advice and it borks your computer, I accept no blame. But I will feel bad. That's the best I can do.

They're more scared of you then you are of them.

I know I logged in to say something way awesome, but vodka has erased whatever it was. Instead, I'll post this video for Adidas (believe it or not) that I found a couple years ago but just popped up in my memory. It's a bit creepy, but I still like it. I think it's the song that gets me.

Don't Open the Haunted Sour Cream

For the second time in a week, the mailman (or person, whatever) has put my mail in my neighbor's box. My dad delivers mail an hour's drive away in my hometown. I should have him get to the bottom of this, because I'm sure he knows who is messing this up.

Seriously though, I don't want to complain and possibly cause someone to be reprimanded, but I'm tired of thinking I have no mail only to have my neighbor knock on my door late in the afternoon and hand deliver it. Supposedly there are rigorous tests that need to be passed before one can be trusted as a USPS employee. I would think that reading and recognizing differences in addresses is one of those requirements with not a lot of wiggle room.

Ouch, that snark got a little sharp there at the end. I'm not even in a bad mood.

edit: This was a test of the email posting function I enabled a while ago, and I have to say that (aside from the convenience aspect of not having to log in) it is short of impressive. Maybe it's just something I have to play with.

Plaid can go with stripes if I want them to!

Yup, the Chinese word to learn is "understand" and gracefully punctuates the fortune which boldly defies the definition. This, on my last day staying here at the farm, seems to be a perfect farewell with which to part ways. I've had a good time; visited with a few friends I rarely see anymore, drove through my old stomping grounds, and felt sad--still not quite sure if it's because things have changed or if they haven't changed enough. After almost two weeks, I'm not feeling right in the brain. In fact, the fortune above may make sense and the breakdown is in my processing of the data. It's official; something is damaged. Not sure vacation is supposed to do that to a person.

I've been toying with the idea of fasting when I return home. Does that make sense? It was a bit of an abrupt change in topic, but that's alright because it is. By fasting, I'm thinking more along the lines of plenty of water, maybe a vitamin pill here and there, but no food. Pretty confident I can last a day, easy, but the real test will come with the dawn of day two. If I can do it, I doubt I'd go past two or three days, but it would be interesting to try it and see. I've gone without eating for quite some time in the past, but I was horribly ill at the time and would like to experience it in good health. Well, by that I mean physical health--we've already established that the mental aspect is questionable. Chances are that I'll completely break down and throw a frozen pizza in the oven, but I'm hoping that my willpower doesn't crumble. Like crumbly crumbs on delicious cake. Mmmm, cake...

Oh, and Ryan started a blog. Read it.

Dangerous at High Speeds

For the past few weeks, I've considered slapping all sorts of rants and zany posts here, but apparently in the time it takes for me to think of something and actually make it to my computer, I've either forgotten that great thing I had to say or have convinced myself that it wasn't great enough to expend the energy it takes to type it down (channeling a little Mitch Hedberg there). This time I developed an idea as I sat here with nothing better to do, so there was no time to forget it and the guarantee of greatness is null and void.

Since the end of the semester, I've literally been reading far more than I normally do when classes are in session. The main reason: I can read for enjoyment without the need for dissecting the text in preparation for later discussion and/or a critical analysis paper. Believe me, the process is so much faster this way. Anyway, among the list of recently finished books is this year's PEN/O.Henry Prize Stories. As a student and writer, all I've produced so far are short stories (still waiting patiently for the muse to send me inspiration for a novel), and I've decided that I might take a moment to point out something that I take for granted when reading something polished by an editing staff, much less a self-conscious author--continuity.

Say you're sitting with some friends and telling them about something that happened that they just have to hear, but you know they're either going to lose interest or simply not believe you if you can't keep your facts straight. A specific example (and probably most extreme violation) from a class this last semester was a story in which a character was traveling--I won't say where or why for "just in case" purposes. This character began in what I guess would still technically be the Midwest and was headed southeast to end up in a state on the Canadian border. Things unraveled quickly after that.

To make a point and hopefully not appear to be picking on a writing student too harshly, I firmly believe that this person just picked up their keyboard and took off running, never turning back to remind themselves where they'd been, otherwise they couldn't help but notice the gaps in their story that made any attempt at helpful comments nearly impossible. Seriously, it was an unnecessary waste of everyone's time. Granted, this class was a workshop and not the final, nit-picky stages of a publication, but if any of you are emerging (and sometimes even established) writers that have ever cranked out a first draft and handed it over to one or more readers without first reading it yourself, please save yourself the embarrassment and never do it again. I'm sure most people would read this and think, "Well, duh," but this isn't for you. It's for... them.

Shut up is the new black.

Why do you get out of bed in the morning? Are your reasons selfish or selfless?

What I mean is, I’ve been thinking a lot about motivation lately. As a writer, I know that characters who don’t want anything are dull—the death of a story. Whether or not I choose to reveal the specifics, it’s up to me to determine that drive while making it believable. Put the fictional aspect aside and consider that anything I can dream up for motivating a protagonist or antagonist must have a human element to it. This is why I ask, why do you get out of bed every morning?

I have a hard time answering that question, to be honest. Think about it; people have families, people have jobs, people have school, all manner of responsibilities, but then you have to think about the people that let those responsibilities slip, because apparently they don’t have enough inspiration to keep at it. Or on the flip side, does that mean people who spend years working at the same job are simple-minded, or to be polite, more easily entertained? Maybe they’re biding their time waiting for something better, some plans they’ve secretly made to get out of that rut. Maybe they’re perfectly happy doing what they do and are just waiting to cash in on a sweet retirement package. Maybe they do it because they just think that they’re supposed to.

Take a look at someone who claims to be religious; what are their motivations? Do they live by the tenants of their religion because they fundamentally believe that this is the right way to live, or do they do it because they ultimately want the reward and fear the punishment? Just to be clear, reward and punishment are just sanctions that happen to sit on opposite ends of a spectrum intended to provoke a desired behavior—which makes them basically equal in a wacky, postmodern kinda way.

Getting back on track here, I’ve been accused before of lacking ambition, and a) I’ve come to the conclusion that ambition is another word for motivation with a possibly wider scope, and b) the accusations usually come from someone that has apparently decided my level of motivation is unsatisfactory because it didn’t match theirs. When you get down to it, motivation is relative, and since I sometimes have such a hard time identifying my own, I wonder if how I imagine someone else’s is way off base.

So, why do you get out of bed every morning?

It's unfortunate when an expensive education doesn't take.

I've been on Facebook since the days when a valid university email address was required. Facebook opened itself up to the world, and my "friend" list grew; I found a lot of people, a lot of them found me, and Facebook kept growing. Recently I was swamped with a sudden flood of requests to be added by people I haven't seen in ten to fifteen years or more. I have to admit, I feel guilty, because many of these people leave me posts or send messages asking what I've been up to and how I've been, and my replies have been scarce, to say the least. Kind of sad, really, but I know that I've changed from the last time they saw me--probably more than I'm even aware of. Sometimes I worry that these people have changed too, or worse yet, maybe some haven't changed at all.

Today, my reasons for being hesitant have been justified, if even only slightly, for being cautious. I witnessed someone I know (in the loosest sense of the word) make one of the most asinine comments I've ever had the displeasure to read.

While I have begun in recent years to develop some strong political opinions, I'm not normally one that looks to share these views unsolicited. I'm actually not going to do much of it now, either, because I'm going to concentrate more on the language than the politics. When I saw a "friend's" status (someone I haven't really talked to since my junior high school years--and we're talking back in 1987-88), I decided that revisiting any sort of friendship with this face from my ancient history is definitely not something I'm interested in. Here's what the status read:

"*name withheld for reasons of taste* wants Barack Obama to FAIL!"

Well, I've come to the conclusion that this person is apparently an idiot, and considering that all the memories I have to go on are from twenty-plus years ago, I'm also wondering whether or not he's changed. From what I recall, this person could throw a tantrum and pout with the best of them, so I suspect I can stop wondering--he hasn't.

This isn't the first provocative statement on the topic from this particular person, and my knee-jerk reaction was to fire a message back with something equally as juvenile, such as, "That's funny, I just spent the last eight years wanting GW to stop failing," but that wouldn't really accomplish anything. My reaction was simply to grant what I assume was his coded wish: I "unfriended" him, because any other action would be a waste of my time and his. Here's my reasoning.

I have always stood by my belief that Bush is/was/always will be a moron, but hear me out, because regardless of your political affiliation, there is a distinct difference here; I have never wished him to outright fail. For example, when I studied abroad, there were people that asked me how I thought the last couple years of Bush's administration would go. My answer usually was, "Well, I have a feeling it's going to get worse before it gets better." Whether or not I was correct is debatable.

Take a look at the language as I mentioned earlier; one statement signifies a sense of hopelessness while at the same time yearning for a change in that momentum, yet the other reveals an attitude toward someone that is not only bitter, but also belies a hidden undertone of fear that this person may not fail. Keep in mind that one observation was made after six years rather than after only a month of performance in the position. I would hope that most people shouldn't need this explained, but an educated adult with a career and family has convinced me that he is unable to grasp these concepts. Even if this came from someone with whom I had shared more history, I would have a hard time taking much they had to say very seriously anymore.

If anyone reading has made it this far--especially those that disagree with my views--and is offended by what I've written, I offer a challenge: convince me that a statement from anyone actively wanting a president to fail is not completely ludicrous and exactly the sort of harmful partisanship that is making politics today so damn ugly (you can use whatever sense of the word "fail" you'd like, and I'm tending to think in terms of any president in general, not necessarily Obama). I won't say it's an impossible task, but the chance of success is fairly minimal.

For those that haven't made it this far, I suppose saying, "Good riddance," is unnecessary.

For those that do agree and are still here; choir, preaching to it, blah blah…

Vacuuming Ants Really is Ineffective

Once again, I have managed to elude the Super Bowl and its holiest of holies, the Super Bowl commercials. I'd like to say that it's because of my principles, but the real truth is that I just don't care. Yes, the allure of watching men paid to hit each other and the companies that have built a tradition of buying multi-million dollar minutes during the station breaks have failed to entice me. I would be interested to see if the current economic situation has affected the price tags of those commercials, but that's about as far as my curiosity goes.

I've thought about the dilemma of marketing as it relates to my band. I would really like to have as many people as possible listen to us, and becoming financially secure by playing music is something I could live with, but I hate the idea of actively trying to convince people that they need something they could easily live without. What else is marketing, really?

I had a good laugh recently due to bad marketing. This is the banner ad that showed up at the top of a, shall we say, popular social networking site.


They got me wrong on two of three counts; I'm admittedly a few pounds heavier than I was a few years ago, but I'm not gay and am not taking part in the whole dating scene. I'm not too sure I'd be too keen on striking up a relationship with someone over the Internet anyway--gay or straight, skinny or fat.

I should get up early and get to the gym tomorrow. I'm feeling chubby...

Vampires Are the New Black

At the moment, I'm procrastinating on writing a story, a story that I need to submit tomorrow morning. I have the basic premise, a strong start, and some notes from my last session to remind myself where my train of thought was going, but I just can't seem to feel motivated. I figured that if I wrote an entry here, I might get those ol' creative juices flowing. Considering I just spent five minutes staring at a black screen before even getting this down, I have a feeling this will take some effort--or maybe I can trick myself into falling prey to the muse. My first step will be to consciously create a playlist on iTunes; I have just short of sixty-five days worth of music, consisting of just about any genre you can name, and there's nothing worse than listening to a song or two that gets you slipping into that state of suspended reality only to be bashed over the head with a train wreck of a song. Meh, I'll do that as soon as I finish here. I don't need a soundtrack to rant, or at least today I don't.

I hope to be flooded with inspiration this semester. I'm a graduate assistant at the North American Review, and I have a feeling I'll be reading a lot of the fiction submissions as one of my duties. Now, in one of my rare allusions to the title of a post, I was extremely disappointed by a story that I read the other day. For purposes of privacy and professional ethics, I won't go into details, but this particular story started off beautifully; I was engaged completely. There was a dream-like quality that didn't seem over the top at all, in fact, I feel as if it enhanced the subject matter. All this is going great when, BLAM!, vampires. If you've ever read the NAR, then I'm sure you'll find that there's a marked absence of genre fiction. I blame a lack of the author's ability to research and the recent success of Twilight; a movie I haven't seen and never plan to. Man, I still want to read the story that could have been. Maybe I should write it myself. There we go; my muse can be spite.

Well, I guess I'll wrap this up and start compiling the music necessary to connect my fingers directly to my brain. Deadlines await.

A Local Amatuer

The semester is now halfway through its first week, or I am halfway through the first week of the semester if you don't care for passive statements. Due to some of last semester carrying over (my fault) and the massive helping my big eyes convinced me to scoop onto my plate this semester, I fear for my sanity once things get rolling. To help ease the pain as I spiral downward, or climb upward, assuming some may consider insanity to be an improvement on my current condition, I have decided to take a moment and once again offer a list of search terms that led a small handful of eccentric people here.


I really don't know what to say about a couple of the above items, except that my first reaction is that I don't think I ever, ever want to meet these people. After a second thought, I realize that some of them might be normal people being zany, but someone searching for a Klingon chandelier is just a little bit too specific for my tastes. Who knows, I may be wrong.

Well, I suppose I should head into the arctic conditions and get to class. I've got band practice tonight, and we're thinking about recording some of our newer songs for an updated demo. If we get some decent results, a couple of them may be posted somewhere; I'll be sure to put a link up here if and when that happens.

Ting-a-ling!