Deranged Ramblings

After my incredibly snobby post about good art, I've been starting to think of myself as something of a hypocrite (yeah, huge revelation there). Because, as much as I'm all about finding good art with “substance,” I more than frequently indulge myself in cheesy, light, feel-good stuff that doesn't make me think, only makes me smile. I indulged in this brand of sugar-coated entertainment just last night, and it was a lot of fun. I have no regrets. Last night, I saw Air Supply in concert. Some of you may never have heard of them (shame on you!), but I'd bet money you've heard their music. That's because they wrote many of the songs that form the backbone of every “light adult contemporary” radio station, including “I'm All Out of Love,” “Making Love Out of Nothing at All,” “Lost in Love,” “The One That You Love,” “The Power of Love,” and, of course, “How Many Times Can I Say The Word Love in One Song?” Ok, so that last one is made up. I'd place them in t

I frequently get into discussions about random subjects with a co-worker, because its an easy and convieniant way to put off doing more work (or pretending to do more work, as the case may be). Today, for some reason, we were discussing theater, and he asked me which local theater venues were the best, in my opinion. I replied that that really depended on what your idea of good theater was, because there are definitely different schools of thought on that point. He said good theater is entertaining theater. That's all. Same for film, books, TV, etc. Entertaining = good. No other qualities required. I don't want to make fun of my coworker or criticize his viewpoint. He's a great guy. His view on what makes good art is held by millions of other people. When I suggested that perhaps good art involved a bit more than simple entertainment, he suggested that I was a snob who had lived too long in an artsy bubble. Which is a valid point. I encounter this point of view very often

It's real. See for yourself.

Today is a special day. Exactly one year ago today, I first decided I'd see what this new blog craze was about by starting up one of my own. I figured I'd play around with it for a few weeks before losing interest, but somehow, surprisingly, I stuck with it. I don't usually follow through with anything, so this is a big deal. One whole year of blogging; one year distilled and digitized for posterity. Consider it my little gift to the world, and to myself. It's quite gratifying to look back over my various posts and remember the events of the last year. It's our first year anniversary, and my blog and I are still in our honeymoon phase. In the last year, I submitted exactly 100 posts to the blog. Many of them were really crappy, frankly. Some were simply filler material, some attempted to be profound and were only tedious, and some served merely as means to vent any emotion I felt like venting. On rare occasions, however, I actually wrote something that I thought wa

For reasons past my comprehension, I have been assigned the task of defining ten words that begin with the letter "D" in a manner which somehow reflects my personality. Many bloggers have preceeded me with various other letters. Here is one of them by the friend who then passed the torch on to me. I relied heavily on Ambrose Bierce's timeless work "The Devil's Dictionary" for inspiration. In fact, half of the definitions (everything in italics) are his. The other half can be blamed solely on me. 1. DANCE , v.i. To leap about to the sound of tittering music, preferably with arms about your neighbor's wife or daughter. There are many kinds of dances, but all those requiring the participation of the two sexes have two characteristics in common: they are conspicuously innocent, and warmly loved by the vicious. 2. DATE , n. A highly-frustrating and usually fruitless activity often undertaken in a spirit of obligation under the pretense of familiarizing s

Dearly Beloved, We gather here today to remember our dear friend and loved one, Matt. For twenty five years he has brought joy and frustration into our lives in his own unique and disturbing way. For a quarter of a century he has walked the earth, touched our hearts, and depressed our spirits. Matt was never self-serving or arrogant. He never spoke much of himself, didn't seek the limelight. He would be embarrassed, I think, by all of this attention. But today, on the celebration of his life, it would only be appropriate to say a few words on his behalf. I would like to take this time, then, to remember him and to honor him. Many of you will always remember Matt as the remarkably attractive young man with brown eyes full of hope and cynicism in equal measure, grinning goofily at both the world's incompetence and his own. But to those of us who knew him best, he was so much more. He was a true friend in times of need; always willing to listen briefly to your problems before laun

So I'm sitting in my cubicle, waiting for the urge to work to hit me so that I can actually get something productive done today. I've been here an hour and no urges yet. Not a single one. I'm aware that this is irresponsible of me. It reflects poorly on my maturity and work ethic. I'm also aware that everybody else here today is doing the same thing. In an average week, I get perhaps four or five productive hours on the good days and two or three hours on the bad days. This may sound like an ideal situation to some, but the constant tedium of having to fill those excess hours with SOMEthing is almost as draining as if I actually did what I'm being paid for. So why not just work the whole time? The answer is simple: I am in a situation in which it is to my disadvantage to work as efficiently as I can. I will produce more headache for myself and my coworkers if I were to burn through my work in a matter of a few weeks rather than a few months. Frankly, I could work m

As many of you already know, since I'm horrible at keeping anything on the “down-low,” I have started working a personal trainer at the gym within the last couple of weeks. His name is Taylor and he is a nice young man currently attending UVSC. I meet with him twice a week for half an hour and let me tell you what, he doesn't pull any punches. He works me so hard I'm sore for days and days afterwards! This guy is an animal! Today, for example, I'm finding it a bit difficult to go up and down stairs and to sit without wincing in a bit of muscle pain. Taylor scoffs at such petty inconvieniances. Its a good kind of pain! It builds character. And despite my usual inclination away from physical activity of any kind, I actually have to agree. I decided to sign up with a trainer for a number of reasons: 1) I clearly had NO idea what I was doing at the gym, with the result that I would usually just avoid going, 2) I needed something to keep me going even when my inherent lazin