Category: awkward

Tapping Into My Personal Genius

Boy, that’s a title, eh?

I’ll provide a guarantee right now, this post won’t live up to that title.

Maybe it’s aspirational. We’ll see.

There is a blog I read regularly that takes the form of an online journal. The author is really open and straight forward. It really is like reading her personal diary.

She suffers from quite a bit of writer’s block, and so when that happens, she’ll do a free association blog post where she asks herself questions and has her mind answer any which way it wants.

I find those posts fascinating as they always contain some nugget of something good that makes the whole exercise worthwhile.

I’m not saying my version of this is going to provide anything other than a nugget of “what the sam hell?” but I’m willing to try.

So. Here we go.

Chatting with myself…

Heeere we go!

Yup, let’s go!

We’re doin’ it!

Crimeny, I’m so blocked I can’t even write interviewer questions.

Ugh.

Ok, for real this time.

Hello, welcome to our self-chat. How are you feeling today?

Wait, that’s how a therapist likes to start a conversation. “How are you feeeeling?” How am I feeling? Bite me, that’s how I’m feeling!

I sense a little hostility.

Congratulations, your sensors are working fine. Can I go?

Yes, you can. But would you stay a minute more?

Why?

Because I asked you nicely.

Fair enough.

Why are you so cranky?

I get cranked up when I have writer’s block. It usually comes so easy to me, the words. In fact, I can write too many words. I was constantly admonished by a former boss, a numbers guy, that I wrote too many words.

He was a toad, though, so no need to let his opinions matter.

Isn’t writing a process? A flow? Sometimes a raging river, sometimes a trickle?

Thanks. Now I have to go pee.

Some of the greatest writers in the world had and have writer’s block.

Sure, sure. I know it’s all a part of the creative process but damn, I hate it!

Don’t you think railing against it only makes it worse?

Don’t you think being a smarty-pants is going to net you the backspace key, repeatedly?

Hey, this is your mental exercise, hot-shot, I’m just asking the questions here.

Oooh, touchy touchy! Fine, yes, I know that railing against writer’s block only makes it worse. But railing against [insert item here] is sort of how I make my way through life.

You know, “Hulk mad! Hulk smash!” or something like that.

Yeah. How’s that working out for you?

Today, not so well.

What do you think would help clear the block?

I don’t know. It usually passes in its own time.

So, if you can just wait it out, it will resolve itself.

Usually.

So, being patient with yourself and letting it pass by might actually be the quickest route?

Yeah, probably.

So why don’t you do that…be patient with yourself?

Damned if I know.

Well, maybe that’s something to work on today.

Yeah, you’re right. I’ll grudgingly admit you are right. Maybe even helpful, too.

Any closing thoughts?

I like pie.

Thank you, and good night….

It’s daytime, stupid brain. You good fer nothing piece of……

Thus concludes today’s conversation. I hope we’ve all learned something here. Though I’ve no idea what that would be.

Romeo, Romeo, I’m calling 911

So there you are, at home alone in your second story apartment doing whatever it is single ladies do at home at night. (I’m thinking eating raw chocolate chip cookie dough, but that’s just me.)

You hear a rattle, rattle outside on your fire escape and realize someone is climbing onto your balcony.

What do you do?

Well you call the damn police, that’s what.

And that’s what a German woman did in this situation.

Problem was, the assumed burglar was her boyfriend, bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine in hand, trying to do something romantic.

Ah, ok, no harm no foul, right?

The police all have a good laugh and let the young lovers have their peace.

Whoops, seems the boyfriend had an outstanding warrant.

So when the police arrived, he jumped down from the balcony and tried to flee, only to be tackled by the officers on the scene.

Star crossed lovers, or something….

Bonus points to the guy for giving the arresting officers the bottle of wine.

Hopefully his Juliet has a good sense of humor.

I’m thinking chocolate chip cookie dough and a Netflix movie is one heck of a lot nicer way to spend the night than bailing your boyfriend out of jail…but that’s just me.

Source.

Tracking My Every Move

Recently, my local Long’s Drug store was converted to a CVS store. Mergers and acquisitions are a way of life.

With the new CVS store came a new request…”Do you have your CVS card?”

As soon as CVS took over, they implemented one of those frequent shopper cards that it seems every store has these days.

You shop the store and when you swipe the card, you get discounts on some items.

Seems harmless, right? Swipe a card to get a discount.

Actually, I think these things are pretty insidious. This, despite the fact that I actually use the cards in many stores.

So in exchange for discounts on items, which, by the way, I believe are marked up so they can discount them…the store gets to track my shopping data and use that information however they choose.

Ostensibly, it is used to both market to me personally, and to help figure out what to stock and in what quantities.

But here’s what bugs me: In order to get a card, I have to give them personal data. Name (first and last), address, phone number, and date of birth (so they can send me a birthday card??).

Just what, exactly, do the stores do with all of this data they’ve mined?

By the by, to purchase marketing data like this costs a lot of money. They are getting it for the price of marking up an item so they can take a discount off the top. Cheap deal!

Plus, I suspect they are also selling the data too. Tidy sideline business, I’d say.

I got to thinking about all of this today when I read an article about a recent salmonella outbreak. The CDC asked permission from the patients, and used their shopper cards to trace back to which food item caused their illness.

Ok, so that’s a pretty good use of the data. Permission was granted, in advance, to use shopping information.

If only all the uses of my data were for such noble causes.

I personally have an issue with all of the data that is collected and tracked in our ever-evolving data driven society. Google tracks all the websites I’ve visited, has satellite and street level images of my home, and oh, and if I use their email service, they track information from that too.

Airlines and Homeland Security track everywhere I travel.

Security cameras everywhere track my movements.

A retail company I worked for installed cameras that track a shopper as they come into the store, note what items a shopper looks at, picks up, and ultimately buys (to evaluate effectiveness of the store layout, the manufacturer of the device says).

AT&T knows WAY more about me than pretty much anyone in my life. Phone calls, text messages, email, what sites I surf, etc is all available on their mobile network.

And honestly, every single time I use my credit card, someone tracks where I am, how much I’ve spent and what I spent it on.

I’m not much of a conspiracy theorist. Usually I take things in stride, but even I have my limits.

Lately, I’ve been using cash more and trying to frequent stores that don’t collect my data, like Trader Joe’s and Walgreens.

I’m not yet to the point where I want to live “off the grid” on my compound in Montana, with razor wire around the perimeter and an avid suspicion of authority.

But some days, I gotta be honest, it doesn’t sound too bad…..

Guilty Pleasures

Right now, as I write this, I am listening to the oldies country station out of Albuquerque (god bless the internets!) and right now they are playing Michael Martin Murphy’s “Wildfire.”

And I have the volume cranked.

Man, I love that song.

LOVE it.

I’m certain that my neighbors, however, don’t.

That song is *such* a guilty pleasure.

Yesterday in the Safeway, Huey Lewis’ “If This Is It” was playing and I sang along (much to The Good Man’s dismay) as I shopped. Yes, by god, I love me some Huey Lewis and the News.

Speaking of not being one ounce of cool and singing in the Safeway, do ya’ll ever just break out and dance in the frozen foods aisle when a good song comes on?

Because grocery shopping is SO freaking boring! And hey, there you are, bored out of your skull, fighting off old folks and screaming kids, trying to decide between Cheetos and Doritos, and a tune that you love comes on and you GOT to shake that thang! Got to!

I’m just saying.

By the by, this post isn’t going to be about anything. After a week where I’ve talked about such heavy items as my dad, myself, baseball and my infected toe, how do you wrap all that up in a nice, tight bow?

Hell, I don’t know, I’m asking.

I use this blog tracking service that helps measure, ping, and drive traffic. As part of that service, people can review your blog. I find the reviews pretty helpful, actually.

As a matter of fact, I’m currently looking for a new layout as I get terrible scores in that category.

One reviewer wrote that my blog is a “…somewhat random commentary on life…”

So at first I was sort of offended by being called random.

Then I had to realize, they are actually right. This blog is very random (reference: dad, me, baseball, infected toe).

So I decided to embrace it.

Especially on days (like, ahem, today) when I am at a total loss for a blog topic.

So instead of thoughtful, insightful, meaningful, you get random dancing in the supermarket aisle.

Did I mention I like pie?

Back Up Gig

The morning team for my local sports radio is out in Scottsdale this week covering all the Spring Training fun.

This morning they observed the groundskeeper hosing down the infield and remarked that could be a possible fallback gig if this whole radio thing didn’t work out…

Hmmm….groundskeeper….not bad. I could pull that rake-boxey thing around the infield between innings. I could make those straight chalk lines. I could roll out that big ass tarp and unfurl it on the field. Yeeahhh.

I think I’ll add that to my list.

What list, you ask?

The list of “things that might pay less but would be a lot more fun” or also known as “what else I could do if this job doesn’t work out.”

You know, good, noble, hardworking gigs that don’t pay enough but also might let me sleep soundly at the end of the night.

Let’s see…what else might be on the list…

Rinse out girl at the hair salon. Sure, my hands would get a little worn out, but hey, all you gotta think about is lather, rinse, repeat.

Gate agent at the Kona International Airport. I think that explains itself.

Guy who stands there with a “slow” sign, waving traffic past a construction zone. Not that I want to actually *do* construction, just be that guy in the orange vest with the disaffected look waving at cars. I hear it pays pretty well!

Run the Ferris wheel at the amusement park. Sure, there is the occasional barfing incident, but mostly you bring people joy. Collect a ticket, strap ’em in and let centrifugal force do the rest.

Cocktail waitress at a Vegas casino. I may not have the legs for it anymore, so it might have to be one of those “off the strip” and rather dark casinos. But I could so wear a spangly dress and wander around saying “Drinks? Anyone need a drink? Drinks?” I imagine you meet some interesting folks with that gig.

Bartender. You know, back in my twenties, even though I had a pretty good office job, I often thought about going to bartender school so I’d have that as a backup. Bartending is more than pulling a tap and washing glasses if you do it right.

Of course, I’d want to be the kind of bartender who could make pretty much any drink you call out without looking at the book. It would be a point of pride. Good bartending is a lost art.

For a while, I thought I could be a Starbucks barista, but after hearing the tales from my New Mexico friend Natalie, I decided maybe not.

When I’d screw up at work, my boss at Sandia used to say I’d be perfect as slurpee machine maintenance man at the local 7-Eleven. Mainly because I’d matriculated at NMSU (as did he) I’m sure.

But being a 7-Eleven employee has often crossed my mind. In my early days in California, when my money was very tight, my local 7-Eleven had a sign up for a night clerk. I *seriously* considered applying.

Sure, it’s one of the most dangerous jobs you can have. But it’s not so bad, I think. You get to vend many of the most vital food groups in life like beef jerky, 40 ounce malt liquor and day old donuts. This is a key element of the running of our society in a smooth fashion!

Then there is always the ball washer at the local golf course (a job that sounds naughty but isn’t). If I also get to scuba dive in the water traps, that’s a TOTAL bonus!

Long haul trucker. Weirdly, that’s always appealed to me. I suppose that says something about my personality.

Anyhow…there’s a lot more on the list. This is but a sampling. But yup, I’m adding Spring Training ballpark groundskeeper.

I’d have to work my way up to nozzle girl, huh? I’d likely have to apprentice as hose holder first.