Thursday, June 23, 2011

Go Away

Clearly, you don't listen, so I guess I have to give you something for your troubles.


I sat on the couch today wearing Jordan shorts.  I applied to numerous jobs that all interest me strongly, and I followed up with people that needed to be hit with the old, "I'm gonna follow up with you" shindiggity dig.

I watched Braveheart all day today.  I didn't play it on repeat, that movie is just so freaking long it takes the lifetime of a common housefly to finish it.

What else?


Oh, that's what the questions are for.

Anyway, I needed to put words on the page so I wrote this incredibly rambling, incohesive, and frankly, pointless post.  I hope you read quickly, otherwise I just wasted like 5 minutes of your time on nothing.  Better that than watching Glee, right?

Right.  Carry on.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Oh Summer

It's summertime!  Blue skies, nearly triple-digit temperatures and sleeveless t-shirts abound.  Currently without a job, I wake up every day and dutifully search for employment, keep aboob of the world's goings-on and occasionally proffer my tuppence.  As I go through my day I can't help but think about my future, and where I'll be spending my summers from 2012 and beyond.  Whatever happens, I know that a year from now, my life will be drastically different.

While that's a sobering/exciting prospect at the moment, I have to continue to live in the present and make sure to do everything I can to be in the place I'm meant to be.  A huge part of that means prayer, introspection and working hard every day to find the right job opportunity, but another part of it is making sure not to let life stress me out too much.  I've never been one to let anything really get me down, but as 25  creeps around the corner, problems seem more and more real as the days go by.

With that being said, I'm taking everything a day at a time and making the most of the moment and blah blah blah, let's talk about Juventus!

Another part of the summer is hearing the RIDICULOUS transfer rumors flying around my beloved Old Lady.  We've made good progress so far, bringing in left back Reto Ziegler, legendary midfielder Andrea Pirlo, and solid backup defensive mid Michele Pazienza as well as most recent additions Fabio Quaglariella, Alessandro Matri and Simone Pepe on permanent deals.  Some of the dross still remains, *cough cough* Marco Motta *cough cough*, but I believe the club is on the right track.

Despite all this, questions rage around the internets, speculating on what (if any) big name Juventus will bring in, who will leave, what color underwear Del Piero is wearing, and whether or not Buffon has a breakfast or brunch on a regular basis.  While I typically try to stay out of the transfer debates, often I find myself unable to refrain from jumping headlong into the fray, just to let my worthless opinion be known.

The fact remains that I love my club, and I can't wait to see what happens when the transfer window does hit full swing.  However, until we begin to see "officially official" and players holding the Juventus jersey, there's simply no real point in speculation and debate.  All judgement of Marotta and co. is useless until September 1 when the transfer window closes.  Until then, I'll continue to hopelessly attempt to ignore the swirling rumors and pretend as I'm above it all.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Talking To Myself

Just a few minutes ago, I tweeted a few times about a video I watched earlier in this morning.  I received no response, but it was ok.  Although I made it public, it was just part of my internal dialogue and I felt like letting it be known publicly.  

Internal dialogue is part of our everyday life, whether we acknowledge it or not.  Many people are looked at as mentally challenged if they walk through the streets talking aloud to themselves, but the fact remains, we talk to ourselves ALL THE TIME.  Being able to hold a conversation with oneself isn't a sign of being crazy, but rather a way to remain sane and rationalize situations without going to others for advice.

Maybe I'm a bit crazy, but I love talking to myself.  If I'm struggling with an issue, I can go over it in my head and consider both sides of the problem without having to run to another person and have them solve it for me.  That's not to say I walk around everyday holding Parliament meetings internally, but I do enjoy the ability to work through matters on my own with an inner debate.  

I may be crazy, but at least I'm fully aware of it.  That makes me less crazy, right? 
*Strides away proudly wearing tinfoil hat*

Monday, June 20, 2011

I'm Not A Writer

As my loyal readership, most of you clearly know I've had some recent issues with maintaining a consistent blogging presence over the past year or so.  Part of it stems from travel, being busy with work, and partially from good ole, down-home laziness.

At least that's what I told myself.  Week in week out, I'd sit down in front of my computer and try to write without getting frustrated, slamming the lid of my computer down and changing screens to Twitter.  While Twitter is indeed a wonderful medium for expression, it also coddles my strong tendency not to focus on any one thing for a significant period of time unless I deem it "important."  With Twitter, I don't have to be particularly introspective, I can just comment on the world as it goes by, whether I let it sweep me along or just watch the goings-on from my porch.

My biggest problem as a writer isn't my work rate, or my attention span, it's my feeling that everything I care to write about has been done already, by someone with better insight and skill than me.  Every day I read wonderful pieces by world-renowned writers I care about, about issues I care about, and I feel they're all done much better any paltry offering I can present.  In many ways, Twitter has exacerbated this problem by opening my eyes to dozens of journalists, writers, bloggers, and more who have unique insight and access to many different areas of my interest that I simply cannot hope to match.  For these reasons, I tend to simply kick back and enjoy my surroundings.

No more.  As I move forward in life, I realize that while I may not have the access and knowledge of many others, I do have a unique viewpoint and writing style that some may enjoy.  Furthermore, if I'm to call myself a writer, I have to write, plain and simple.  I've said it myriad times, and I partially don't even believe myself when I say "more writing is coming."  Neither should you.  With that being said, I invite you to disbelieve me 100%.  Believe me when the blog posts come streaming in.  When my Twitter feed starts to be filled with me commenting on my own writing, rather than on other's offerings.  Then we can revisit this post and marvel at my wonderful turnaround.

Then I can call myself a writer again.