I’m only halfway through my day in this wonderful office and there has already been enough unintentional comedy to keep me laughing for a few months. For starters, there are about 200 grown adults dressed up in all sorts of childish costumes. We’ve got one actually wearing diapers (thankfully over his pants), others covered in aluminum foil and a few more cross dressing. Why is this ok in a business office? It’s not like we’re teachers working with kids, for God sakes, although I did see a few super sweet teacher sweaters. You know the kind, right? Those thick cotton sweaters with reindeer, pumpkins or some other holiday festive symbol that protrudes from the sweater. The really cool ones even light up or even say something, but only a select few are lucky enough to snag ‘em each year. I have one of my own to wear at my friend’s annual “Turtleneck and Sweater” party, but at the office?? When these people looked in the mirror this morning they really said “Yep, that’s the shit. I look sweet”, or something along those lines that would allow them to feel good about themselves while looking absolutely absurd in front of 300 co-workers? Really? Really? Wow, that’s so bold in so many wrong ways that I’m dumbfounded. I suppose I should be used to this by now with 31 years under my belt (6 or so in an office), but each year it catches me off guard. At least the costumes give me an excuse to actually laugh out loud at someone without them being offended. They just kind of look at me with a shit-eating, oblivious grin assuming that I’m stoked on their get-up. “No, pal, the people who aren’t dressed up in children’s clothing and things you can only buy in sex shops are laughing AT you, not with you.” I’d love to say that, pat the guy on the shoulder and just walk away, but I’m not a cruel person by nature. It does make me laugh just thinking about the sense of self-awareness that would probably come over them at that point, though. But you know what? The Costume Crew’s blissful ignorance is a good thing. If I looked that stupid I’d want to be completely oblivious too. So go get ‘em Super Mario, Paris Hilton and all the rest of you costumed freaks. Enjoy your one day of shameless self-promotion/idiocy, because when those company pictures start circulating and you don’t have that monster $20 costume contest reward, shame will come creeping up like a thief in the night and you will pray to God that the end of the day will come ASAP so you can go home and hide. And you can bet that the next time I see you in the hallway I'll remind you of your moment of glory.
Now before anyone takes too much offense to what I’m saying (that includes you, person reading this in the “Sexy Kitten” outfit - you just wanted an excuse to dress like a slut), let me be the first to admit that I’ve certainly worn enough ridiculous clothing in my life to crack my entire office up. Just not to work. Acid wash jeans topped off with a nice little turtleneck….check. Z Cavaricci….check. Big ‘ol Jackie O looking glasses with a red wife beater/tank top through the streets of San Francisco……aaaaaand, check (at least I can blame the last one on my party days when my head was a tad cloudy). Yes indeed, I’ve run the gamut of sartorial taste.
When I first left San Diego for San Francisco, which for those of you not familiar with both cities is like going from suburban sheltered to effing freak show, I needed to break free from past peer influence and explore myself. And explore myself I did. Odd clothes, piercings, tattoos (my last one made a baker’s dozen/13 - All easily hidden with most short sleeve shirts), you name it, I’ve tried it. Well, I should clarify. I have never “played for the other team.” Not that I look down on anyone that does, to each their own, but I thought my story was starting to trend down the wrong path. San Francisco, crazy clothes, lots of experimentation, “hmm” you must have been thinking, “where is this leading Mr. man? Do you have something you’d like to tell us?” Well, the answer is no. It’s not like that and it never was. ‘Nough said. Anyway, I left San Fran after almost two years and moved to England where my tastes toned down a touch and fell more in line with the rather “Vanilla” English culture. God bless the English, but they aren’t typically too worried about style. They all wear mostly conservative T’s and collared shirts with Jeans. I’m pretty sure the only rule is that they have to be able to get piss drunk in any given outfit. If a piece of clothing fits within that rather large parameter, it’s good enough for them. Yes indeed, the English love their drink, which makes for quite a Jekyll and Hyde country. Have you ever known someone that is very quiet and reserved until they get a little booze in them, at which point they are the life of the party, then a monster and then face first on the first open piece of floor they can find? That’s pretty much the whole country of England right there.
I had a flat mate named James who was the poster boy Brit. When I first met him he was the typical freshmen student living away from home for the first time; timid, clean cut, and unsure of his surroundings. After 1 night of drinking he had already established a crazed, booze hound of an alter ego that I named “Jimmy.” Not the zaniest of nicknames, but he insisted on being called James, and acted like a James as outlined above. When he was drinking, though, he morphed into Jimmy and went buck wild, so the moniker Jimmy was actually a great fit. I was 25 at the time, living with 18-year-old freshmen, and it was quite fun having someone like Jimmy to toy with. The guy would try anything.
On a more serious note, it was a real pleasure to see a quiet kid like that come into his own. His growth became more important when we (the flat mates) came to find out after a night of heroic drinking that Jimmy had lost his mom to cancer not two weeks before he came to university. It was so sad. His eyes starting tearing up, understandably, and he almost lost it. I like to think that the support of our group helped him through what a terribly difficult time that must have been. Had I not been older than most people in college I wouldn’t have really understood the importance of situations like that, but I was fortunate enough to be at a point in my life where I still wanted to have fun, but also knew a little bit about life. It was almost like getting to do college over again.
What a great time that was for me...if it weren’t for me meeting my wife on a summer visit back home, I would definitely still be living across the pond. I loved it that much. But such is life, right? No regrets. As one of my blog buddies alluded to recently via a shared poem and blog post, the universe moves just exactly as it should. We are where we are for a reason, so it’s best to enjoy the present and looks for lessons and teachers that will help take us forward. To quote Ferris Bueller “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”
Well, I’d say that post could safely be described as wandering. Nothing like a nice, strong cup of coffee to get you on a rant. Anyway, here’s another random WWW link for your entertainment:
-This one is great. A guy that can’t stop laughing at the high pitch of the voice of someone he’s interviewing. Not sure if it’s real, but even if it’s not the thought of it actually happening is precious: http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=1760923 If that is real, I feel bad for everyone involved in that moment.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Music 'N Humor
“Love to see when ya groove wit da rhythm. ‘Cause I love to see when you’re dancing from within.”
Small sample of the words sung by Bob Marley in the soothing “Jump Niabinghi”, from the album “Confrontation.” Each time I listen to this song, I get chills on my spine and I smile from ear to ear. Ain’t music grand like that? The funny thing is that I don’t even listen to this song that often. It just happens to come on when I need a little lift. Like I said yesterday, Bob is magical like that to me. Whenever the world seems grey, all I have to do is put on the headphones, play a little Bob, and the grey turns into a rainbow of colors…..like I said, it gives me chills.
Oddly enough, considering my passion for the song, I’ve never done any research on the history/meaning of it, but I don’t need to in order to get what I need. To me, the lyrics I’ve quoted don’t refer to any sort of physical movement; rather, they speak to being in harmony with the universe, with your Self. That feeling you get (I do, at least) when you know deep down in your soul, without question, that life is moving along exactly as it should. It’s such a beautiful feeling. When you try to go it alone, life can slap you around pretty hard, but if you give yourself a little quiet time to reflect each day, things tend to fall into place. Now I’m not suggesting that everyone sit cross legged and chant (although if that’s what floats your boat chant away). Reflection/meditation/whatever you want to call it comes in many forms. Some paint, some write, some sing, some exercise, well, you get the point. Whatever it is that allows you to detach from the demands of your daily existence, the restrictions that we all directly or indirectly place on ourselves, do it…..a lot. It’s easy to make excuses and say that you don’t have time in the day, but you’d only be cheating yourself. Even 10 minutes each day can change your life. People search their entire lives for material things to make them happy, when all they really need to do is sincerely look within. It’s that simple. Don’t get me wrong, material things certainly make life easier, and I think it’s just fine to try to attract them, but I just don’t believe you’re likely to become materially rich until you’re whole within. It’s possible, but not likely. So Turn Your Lights Down Low, try to steal a few minutes for yourself each day, and see if you don’t feel better because of it. And remember, the more you practice, the better you’ll feel about yourself, your life and the world. It’s pretty obvious that the world needs all the positive energy we can generate.
If anyone is still awake after that rant, here are a few things online that I find humorous:
-Terrible Terry Tate: Office Linebacker, from the old Reebok commercials Here’s a link for your enjoyment: http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-6238953685626218421
Sweet Mary, that’s hilarious. “…you Kill the Joe, you make some mo!” Thanks to one of my best buddies, Jeffrey, for reminding me of Triple T this morning.
-Bud Light “Real American Heroes. In my opinion, even better than the “Real Men of Genius” ads, probably because most of them are too politically incorrect to have made the radio. My personal favorite is the “Mr. Silent Gas Passer”…..classic. Enjoy: http://contemporaryinsanity.org/audio-video/bud-light-real-men-of-genius.html
-The Bud Light aforementioned “Real men of genius” ads. I suggest Mr. T-Shirt Launcher Inventor. Here you go: http://www.budlight.com/index.html Click “Real Men of Genius” on the right. Some are funnier than others, but they are all super witty.
That's all I've got for today. Hopefully I got you to think and laugh all in one short post. If not, I enjoyed it, and that's all that really matters.
TWF
Small sample of the words sung by Bob Marley in the soothing “Jump Niabinghi”, from the album “Confrontation.” Each time I listen to this song, I get chills on my spine and I smile from ear to ear. Ain’t music grand like that? The funny thing is that I don’t even listen to this song that often. It just happens to come on when I need a little lift. Like I said yesterday, Bob is magical like that to me. Whenever the world seems grey, all I have to do is put on the headphones, play a little Bob, and the grey turns into a rainbow of colors…..like I said, it gives me chills.
Oddly enough, considering my passion for the song, I’ve never done any research on the history/meaning of it, but I don’t need to in order to get what I need. To me, the lyrics I’ve quoted don’t refer to any sort of physical movement; rather, they speak to being in harmony with the universe, with your Self. That feeling you get (I do, at least) when you know deep down in your soul, without question, that life is moving along exactly as it should. It’s such a beautiful feeling. When you try to go it alone, life can slap you around pretty hard, but if you give yourself a little quiet time to reflect each day, things tend to fall into place. Now I’m not suggesting that everyone sit cross legged and chant (although if that’s what floats your boat chant away). Reflection/meditation/whatever you want to call it comes in many forms. Some paint, some write, some sing, some exercise, well, you get the point. Whatever it is that allows you to detach from the demands of your daily existence, the restrictions that we all directly or indirectly place on ourselves, do it…..a lot. It’s easy to make excuses and say that you don’t have time in the day, but you’d only be cheating yourself. Even 10 minutes each day can change your life. People search their entire lives for material things to make them happy, when all they really need to do is sincerely look within. It’s that simple. Don’t get me wrong, material things certainly make life easier, and I think it’s just fine to try to attract them, but I just don’t believe you’re likely to become materially rich until you’re whole within. It’s possible, but not likely. So Turn Your Lights Down Low, try to steal a few minutes for yourself each day, and see if you don’t feel better because of it. And remember, the more you practice, the better you’ll feel about yourself, your life and the world. It’s pretty obvious that the world needs all the positive energy we can generate.
If anyone is still awake after that rant, here are a few things online that I find humorous:
-Terrible Terry Tate: Office Linebacker, from the old Reebok commercials Here’s a link for your enjoyment: http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-6238953685626218421
Sweet Mary, that’s hilarious. “…you Kill the Joe, you make some mo!” Thanks to one of my best buddies, Jeffrey, for reminding me of Triple T this morning.
-Bud Light “Real American Heroes. In my opinion, even better than the “Real Men of Genius” ads, probably because most of them are too politically incorrect to have made the radio. My personal favorite is the “Mr. Silent Gas Passer”…..classic. Enjoy: http://contemporaryinsanity.org/audio-video/bud-light-real-men-of-genius.html
-The Bud Light aforementioned “Real men of genius” ads. I suggest Mr. T-Shirt Launcher Inventor. Here you go: http://www.budlight.com/index.html Click “Real Men of Genius” on the right. Some are funnier than others, but they are all super witty.
That's all I've got for today. Hopefully I got you to think and laugh all in one short post. If not, I enjoyed it, and that's all that really matters.
TWF
Monday, October 29, 2007
Me and Big Black
Alright, so I've blown my cover. The big revelation. Now all you crazed fans can hunt me down because you've seen my face. BFD. It's not like I'm a secret agent. Wait, what's that sound? Ah, yes, that's the sound of none of you caring. Thank you. Thank you kindly. NOTE: I removed my picture from this post on the off chance that a co-worker would come across this blog and get me fired.
Anyway, I wanted to put this picture up because I absolutely love my guitar. Love it, love it, love it. My wonderful wife bought if for my birthday last year (it was a replacement/upgrade for my first guitar, which was a Classical piece of crap that my Pops gave me) and my love for it has been increasing ever since. I even like to smell it. Wait, did I just write that. Oh well, too late. Come close, though, I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Something that may make you think "poser" or "kook" or something along those lines.....I am absolutely TERRIBLE, I mean clear the room horrible, at playing guitar. You know the scene in "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" when Ferris plays his flute like he's never touched an instrument before, and it sounds unbelievably atrocious? What does he say? He looks into the camera, with the confidence of a Caesar and says "Never had one lesson." Effing hilarious! That's me, though. I play guitar with the blissful ignorance of a 2-year-old hitting a drum kit like they're freaking Jon Bonham. The sound is something even my mother wouldn't compliment, and I know it, but I still have the time of my life playing it. When I break it out, my dog, bless her, looks up at me like "Ah, c'mon Pops. Give it up already", and then she sighs and walks to the farthest room possible. The beauty of guitar, though, at least for me, is that I suck at it, but playing makes me feel good like not much else can. The only other activity I can think of that's like that is Surfing, which thankfully, I'm much better at, although still fairly bad.
That's it. Short, completely random post, I know, but I'm done. Just had to share that with you, like it or not. To steal another quote from Ferris "You're still here? Why? Go home...."
TWF
Anyway, I wanted to put this picture up because I absolutely love my guitar. Love it, love it, love it. My wonderful wife bought if for my birthday last year (it was a replacement/upgrade for my first guitar, which was a Classical piece of crap that my Pops gave me) and my love for it has been increasing ever since. I even like to smell it. Wait, did I just write that. Oh well, too late. Come close, though, I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Something that may make you think "poser" or "kook" or something along those lines.....I am absolutely TERRIBLE, I mean clear the room horrible, at playing guitar. You know the scene in "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" when Ferris plays his flute like he's never touched an instrument before, and it sounds unbelievably atrocious? What does he say? He looks into the camera, with the confidence of a Caesar and says "Never had one lesson." Effing hilarious! That's me, though. I play guitar with the blissful ignorance of a 2-year-old hitting a drum kit like they're freaking Jon Bonham. The sound is something even my mother wouldn't compliment, and I know it, but I still have the time of my life playing it. When I break it out, my dog, bless her, looks up at me like "Ah, c'mon Pops. Give it up already", and then she sighs and walks to the farthest room possible. The beauty of guitar, though, at least for me, is that I suck at it, but playing makes me feel good like not much else can. The only other activity I can think of that's like that is Surfing, which thankfully, I'm much better at, although still fairly bad.
That's it. Short, completely random post, I know, but I'm done. Just had to share that with you, like it or not. To steal another quote from Ferris "You're still here? Why? Go home...."
TWF
Mondays are Good for Music and Writing
There’s no way else to put it, Monday’s are a bitch. I can say with absolute sincerity that I can’t remember the last time I woke up on a Monday morning without having butterflies in my stomach because of the dread I feel toward going into the office (I’m sure it was whenever the last 3 day weekend was). I swear, there must be some super duper magical force that gives me enough strength to get out of bed knowing I’m going to the office, because the fact that I’m able to do it 5 days a week is a minor miracle. The scary thing is that the more I write and pursue other outlets for my energy, the harder it is to accept working in this black and white job. I want to make it clear that I know there are many of you who probably have it so much harder than me it’s not even funny. I feel for you, but hey, pain is relative, and I can only take care of myself….and my wife….and my dog, but that’s it. Your humble author has his hands full keeping his own life full of positive energy. Go trick or treat somewhere else because my “house” is all out of “candy.” Using that analogy, if I was actually a house, and someone did stop by for candy, I’d be the old grumpy guy that gives out toothpaste or raisins instead of candy. I always hated that guy…..
It’s not all doom and gloom, though. On most days I’m fortunate enough to have at least a few hours to write. A nice result of my transition back to sales is free time. I can’t actually start fulfilling my new responsibilities until we hire a sales manager to backfill for me, and in the meantime most of my sales management work has gone away, so I’m lucky to have a little time on my hands while I’m in the office. It's odd, as soon as I told the team I would no longer be their leader, all the questions and issues that they used to bring to me magically disappeared. Huh. You don’t say. You mean, these grown adults, armed with college degrees, can actually figure things out on their own? Really? All by themselves? Somebody get a hold of Guinness right this very minute. We must be setting some sort of world record here. In all seriousness, the fact that they always came to me with questions clearly speaks to a lack in management skills on my part. Apparently, I was giving them too much fish and not teaching them how to fish. No wonder the office stinks. Too much seafood. Bada bing! Thanks folks, I’ll be here all week.
Back to something with a little more substance. Hopefully I haven’t driven you all away due to my sophomoric humor. One thing I can always count on to raise my spirits is music. Thank the universe for music. Without it, I would probably be locked in a padded room, eating lots of apple sauce and taking the little bus on daily field trips. Reggae has always been particularly soothing to my soul when I feel out of sorts, Bob Marley being my preferred artist. Bob’s intelligent, soulful music has been part of my life since I was 11 or 12. He has a way of singing about extremely serious subjects, while providing a voice that makes me feel comfortable. Whether it be his early Dance Hall influenced tunes like “One Cup of Coffee” and “Judge Not” or his later, more spiritually charged work like “Natural Mystic” and “Jump Nyabinghi”, I can actually feel his presence through every song. It’s a beautiful feeling and something that has put me at ease during numerous difficult times. Recently, it’s been getting me through many a long morning in my cube. So at least I've got that goin' for me.
I could, and likely will, devote an entire post to music, but that will have to be another time. Right now, I need to open up a spreadsheet, look busy, and stare at it until I can get out of Dodge.
Cheerio,
TWF
It’s not all doom and gloom, though. On most days I’m fortunate enough to have at least a few hours to write. A nice result of my transition back to sales is free time. I can’t actually start fulfilling my new responsibilities until we hire a sales manager to backfill for me, and in the meantime most of my sales management work has gone away, so I’m lucky to have a little time on my hands while I’m in the office. It's odd, as soon as I told the team I would no longer be their leader, all the questions and issues that they used to bring to me magically disappeared. Huh. You don’t say. You mean, these grown adults, armed with college degrees, can actually figure things out on their own? Really? All by themselves? Somebody get a hold of Guinness right this very minute. We must be setting some sort of world record here. In all seriousness, the fact that they always came to me with questions clearly speaks to a lack in management skills on my part. Apparently, I was giving them too much fish and not teaching them how to fish. No wonder the office stinks. Too much seafood. Bada bing! Thanks folks, I’ll be here all week.
Back to something with a little more substance. Hopefully I haven’t driven you all away due to my sophomoric humor. One thing I can always count on to raise my spirits is music. Thank the universe for music. Without it, I would probably be locked in a padded room, eating lots of apple sauce and taking the little bus on daily field trips. Reggae has always been particularly soothing to my soul when I feel out of sorts, Bob Marley being my preferred artist. Bob’s intelligent, soulful music has been part of my life since I was 11 or 12. He has a way of singing about extremely serious subjects, while providing a voice that makes me feel comfortable. Whether it be his early Dance Hall influenced tunes like “One Cup of Coffee” and “Judge Not” or his later, more spiritually charged work like “Natural Mystic” and “Jump Nyabinghi”, I can actually feel his presence through every song. It’s a beautiful feeling and something that has put me at ease during numerous difficult times. Recently, it’s been getting me through many a long morning in my cube. So at least I've got that goin' for me.
I could, and likely will, devote an entire post to music, but that will have to be another time. Right now, I need to open up a spreadsheet, look busy, and stare at it until I can get out of Dodge.
Cheerio,
TWF
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Viva Los Chargers!
Hallelujah! My beloved Chargers, those of the best record in the NFL last year, are back in form. With the 35-10 home shellacking of the Houston Texans today, after a week of wildfire distraction no less, they are back on track to be a force come playoff time. For 5 games this season, all Charger fans were forced to watch a team that wore Chargers uniforms, but were merely a shell of the team that went 14-2 last year and should have ended up in the Super Bowl, or at the very least in the AFC Championship Game. It was terrible and conjured up memories of every San Diego sports failure over the past 50 years.
It seems that every time there are expectations attached to a San Diego sports club, the team folds like the Argentine army in '82. It's uncanny how much of a guarantee that is. And when there aren't any expectations, the teams just plain stink. There is absolutely no middle of the road for a San Diego sports fan. None. We fans are either given great hope, only for the team to get slaughtered when it matters most, or they are the league doormat, getting walked on by the rest of the league. Yes indeed, pledging your allegiance to a team here in SD is tantamount to giving up hope of ever being part of a championship celebration and saying "You know what, I think I'll just pick a city to support where I know I won't ever have to worry about buying all that knick-knack sports title memorabilia." It's awfully satisfying, let me tell ya. Yeah, satisfying like a kick in the nuts.
Before this season began, I tried to tell myself that although the Chargers have arguably as much talent as anyone else in the NFL, there is no guarantee that they will waltz into the Super Bowl, as some pundits had alluded to. Still, my instincts told me that the odds were stacked in our favor. Those of you that are avid sports fans know how it works. When your team has high expectations to start a season, you mentally go back and forth between belief and doubt. With every article you read, you get psyched up about the upcoming season, but the lingering pain of past disappointment forces doubt into your mind. No matter how much you try to tell yourself not to get into a vulnerable position by believing too much, you still are, at heart, a fan that wants so very badly to win a championship. Therefore, it's impossible to remove yourself from the freeway of despair. You just stand there, eyes closed, hoping that instead of the 18 wheeler of pain crushing you like a fly on its windshield, you'll be embraced by the sweet angels of glory and whisked away to championshipville. And here in San Diego we've never had a major sports championship, so the mere thought of seeing the Chargers win the Super Bowl almost brings a tear to my eye. I'm not a man that cries very often, but I've told my wife that if (hopefully, when) a team in San Diego takes the ultimate prize she will see me cry. I doubt I'll ball like a little girl with a skinned knee, but there will be some welling, possibly followed by a trip to the restroom where I can let it all out in peace, without having to lose my dignity. Like I said, when I actually take a few moments to project myself to a place in my head when the Chargers have won the Super Bowl, I start to get a bit teary eyed. I've made the mistake of letting this happen at work once or twice, and it was pretty uncomfortable. I spent 30 seconds trying to dry my eyes and figure out what the hell I would tell one of my employees if they saw me with tears in my eyes. Thank God nobody actually saw me in this pathetic state, but if they had one of my distant relatives would have died a horrible death, at least as far as the person I was explaining to was concerned. Pathetic.
So that's life as a San Diego sports fan, people. I'm thrilled at how the Bolts are playing right now, but who knows what I'll be saying after next week's game in Minnesota. The team will be favored to win, so there is certainly a let down possibility, but I remain optimistic in the face of everything I've seen in the past. Call me dumb, call me naive, but don't call me apathetic. Go Bolts!
It seems that every time there are expectations attached to a San Diego sports club, the team folds like the Argentine army in '82. It's uncanny how much of a guarantee that is. And when there aren't any expectations, the teams just plain stink. There is absolutely no middle of the road for a San Diego sports fan. None. We fans are either given great hope, only for the team to get slaughtered when it matters most, or they are the league doormat, getting walked on by the rest of the league. Yes indeed, pledging your allegiance to a team here in SD is tantamount to giving up hope of ever being part of a championship celebration and saying "You know what, I think I'll just pick a city to support where I know I won't ever have to worry about buying all that knick-knack sports title memorabilia." It's awfully satisfying, let me tell ya. Yeah, satisfying like a kick in the nuts.
Before this season began, I tried to tell myself that although the Chargers have arguably as much talent as anyone else in the NFL, there is no guarantee that they will waltz into the Super Bowl, as some pundits had alluded to. Still, my instincts told me that the odds were stacked in our favor. Those of you that are avid sports fans know how it works. When your team has high expectations to start a season, you mentally go back and forth between belief and doubt. With every article you read, you get psyched up about the upcoming season, but the lingering pain of past disappointment forces doubt into your mind. No matter how much you try to tell yourself not to get into a vulnerable position by believing too much, you still are, at heart, a fan that wants so very badly to win a championship. Therefore, it's impossible to remove yourself from the freeway of despair. You just stand there, eyes closed, hoping that instead of the 18 wheeler of pain crushing you like a fly on its windshield, you'll be embraced by the sweet angels of glory and whisked away to championshipville. And here in San Diego we've never had a major sports championship, so the mere thought of seeing the Chargers win the Super Bowl almost brings a tear to my eye. I'm not a man that cries very often, but I've told my wife that if (hopefully, when) a team in San Diego takes the ultimate prize she will see me cry. I doubt I'll ball like a little girl with a skinned knee, but there will be some welling, possibly followed by a trip to the restroom where I can let it all out in peace, without having to lose my dignity. Like I said, when I actually take a few moments to project myself to a place in my head when the Chargers have won the Super Bowl, I start to get a bit teary eyed. I've made the mistake of letting this happen at work once or twice, and it was pretty uncomfortable. I spent 30 seconds trying to dry my eyes and figure out what the hell I would tell one of my employees if they saw me with tears in my eyes. Thank God nobody actually saw me in this pathetic state, but if they had one of my distant relatives would have died a horrible death, at least as far as the person I was explaining to was concerned. Pathetic.
So that's life as a San Diego sports fan, people. I'm thrilled at how the Bolts are playing right now, but who knows what I'll be saying after next week's game in Minnesota. The team will be favored to win, so there is certainly a let down possibility, but I remain optimistic in the face of everything I've seen in the past. Call me dumb, call me naive, but don't call me apathetic. Go Bolts!
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Winds of Change
Lately, I've been very much aware of a higher energy guiding me through life. Everything I do, say and hear seems to lead to more growth. If I didn't already hold firm to my belief that we're all part of something much larger than our lives on earth, I'd be awfully tripped out by this phenomenon. As it is, though, I know that this heightened awareness means change is a comin'. I really feel like I need to take advantage of my connection right now, follow every hunch, pay attention to all of life's details, so I don't miss any signs meant to guide me on a new path. Because that's what I've been seeking for a while now; a new path.
I think we all go through periods of our life when we feel like we've completed what we were meant to do in that given period and we get this innate sense that it's time to move on. Some of us take notice of these signs and some choose to ignore them and end up stuck in a rut. I'm certainly struck with that sense right now, and I'm going to side step the rut. A new acquaintance said today that he's like a snake shedding its skin. I find that a perfect analogy for where I'm at right now. The skin serves a purpose for the snake for only so long, much like situations only serve people for relatively small periods of time. If you keep doing the same thing over and over, you start to lose your sense of self. Precious details become blurred, your senses numb and you shift into a state of auto-pilot. That's when you know you need to shed your "skin" and start looking for change. Otherwise, your whole world is likely to turn black and white.
Where the universe is taking me right now, I don't know, but I know it's going to involve something much more creative than what corporate America has been feeding me. With that said, and despite all the frustration I've expressed in past blogs about my current job, it certainly has taught me a lot. I've learned heaps about business, what makes less creative folks tick and most importantly, a lot about what I don't want to be doing. You see, I'm the type that has to learn things the hard way. I'm rarely able to look at a situation and know for certain that it's not a good fit for me. No, no. That would be far to easy. I like to jump right in and experience the good and the bad, regardless of warnings. It may make for a longer road to my dream space, but I'm beginning to learn that all the obstacles and victories along the way are helping build a solid foundation for who I am, and who I will be. Jason Lee's character in Vanilla Sky says something like "The sweet wouldn't be half so sweet without the sour." I didn't really get it at the time, but that's one of the most pure truths in life. You can still enjoy life without experiencing some pain and difficulty, but you've got nothing to compare your happiness to. If you've never known anything but the sweet that has to temper your sense of satisfaction. If you've bought the ticket and taken the ride, experienced the ups and downs of life's roller coaster, you can look back on the ride feeling satisfied that you've really lived.
I'll hold back on rambling on any longer as I've got to catch up on the day's sports highlights and finish the last 100 pages of Hells Angels, but I will say that I'm looking forward to the next section of my roller coaster, the next chapter of my book or the next act of my film. Call it what you will. I know I'll be a better man by the time the next wind of change blows through.
TWF
I think we all go through periods of our life when we feel like we've completed what we were meant to do in that given period and we get this innate sense that it's time to move on. Some of us take notice of these signs and some choose to ignore them and end up stuck in a rut. I'm certainly struck with that sense right now, and I'm going to side step the rut. A new acquaintance said today that he's like a snake shedding its skin. I find that a perfect analogy for where I'm at right now. The skin serves a purpose for the snake for only so long, much like situations only serve people for relatively small periods of time. If you keep doing the same thing over and over, you start to lose your sense of self. Precious details become blurred, your senses numb and you shift into a state of auto-pilot. That's when you know you need to shed your "skin" and start looking for change. Otherwise, your whole world is likely to turn black and white.
Where the universe is taking me right now, I don't know, but I know it's going to involve something much more creative than what corporate America has been feeding me. With that said, and despite all the frustration I've expressed in past blogs about my current job, it certainly has taught me a lot. I've learned heaps about business, what makes less creative folks tick and most importantly, a lot about what I don't want to be doing. You see, I'm the type that has to learn things the hard way. I'm rarely able to look at a situation and know for certain that it's not a good fit for me. No, no. That would be far to easy. I like to jump right in and experience the good and the bad, regardless of warnings. It may make for a longer road to my dream space, but I'm beginning to learn that all the obstacles and victories along the way are helping build a solid foundation for who I am, and who I will be. Jason Lee's character in Vanilla Sky says something like "The sweet wouldn't be half so sweet without the sour." I didn't really get it at the time, but that's one of the most pure truths in life. You can still enjoy life without experiencing some pain and difficulty, but you've got nothing to compare your happiness to. If you've never known anything but the sweet that has to temper your sense of satisfaction. If you've bought the ticket and taken the ride, experienced the ups and downs of life's roller coaster, you can look back on the ride feeling satisfied that you've really lived.
I'll hold back on rambling on any longer as I've got to catch up on the day's sports highlights and finish the last 100 pages of Hells Angels, but I will say that I'm looking forward to the next section of my roller coaster, the next chapter of my book or the next act of my film. Call it what you will. I know I'll be a better man by the time the next wind of change blows through.
TWF
Friday, October 26, 2007
The Great Dichotomy
So I've just returned from my Mexican escape. The "Firestorm of 2007", as the quasi-expert meteorologists/newscasters have dubbed it, had driven me from my humble abode, and loyal Heineken elves (see a few posts below), for the better part of 5 days. Now before you all start feeling sorry for me and my wife, let me make it clear that my house was far from being engulfed in anything resembling a firestorm. Ash was falling like rain on a winter day in Hanalei, that much is for sure, but the only thing that was even remotely fire-like in intensity at this house was my excitement at the thought of the office being closed for a few more days while some beast of a disaster had its way with greater San Diego County. I know, I know, the sympathy you felt for me a few seconds ago is now morphing into disgust, but what the hell. I'm not going to lie to you. When an event occurs that gives me a chance to bolt the confines of hell, er, the office, I'm all over it like white on rice. So as soon as the fires began moving westward towards my neighborhood, one thought came to mind: "Viva Mexico! Let's visit Mr. Pharmavet and get some tequila, and sharpish!" And so it was. The news recommended that everyone in my town pack up a leave, and leave we did. Some go to shelters, some to friends' houses, I go to Mexico. Why sir, would one leave America's Finest City for a third world dump that people risk life and limb to leave, you ask? Well, I'll tell you.
You see, Mexico, and the Baja Peninsula in particular, is a hidden gem. Sure, you can get shot, stabbed, raped and robbed, all in the same day if you're really dumb, but those are minor deterances. Let's talk benefits. Ah, the benefits. For starters, the place we stay sits perched on a cliff that rises 30 feet above the majestic Pacific Ocean. A jacuzzi is positioned in the back yard overlooking the beach, perfect for watching sunset, drinking beer and doing whatever your dirty little mind conjures up. There are only 2-3 houses on either side of the property, so even when there are neighbors present, which there rarely are since this is a vacation rental development and not many people reside there full time, you feel like you are in your own world with your own rules. And you know what I think about creating my own rules now....sehr gut, herr doctor. Or as my little Hispanic hosts would say, "Muy Bueno."
Now I could go on and on about the house and all of its amenities, but that would really belie the point I'm working towards. The beauty of Mexico, what really puts it at, or near, the very top of my list of vacation destinations is this: everyone is so effing lazy and very little, if anything, is seen as an urgent matter (aside from Soccer, which I also love). That's right. I just said that I love a country essentially because it's people are inherently lazy. Now before you start writing me hate mail and calling me ignorant, let me explain what I mean.
You may or may not have heard the term "Manana." In Spanish it means "Tomorrow," but when applied to Mexicans it refers to the attitude the indigenous people have towards life in general. There's just no great sense of urgency to get things done and it creates a wonderful atmosphere of relaxation and a feeling that nothing really matters as much as society would have you believe. As soon as you cross the border into Mexico, you feel like there is nothing urgent in life aside from getting a nice cold cerveza in your hand as soon as humanly possible. What better attitude could you hope to gain when you need to retreat from reality? I've traveled the world over and I can say from experience that no other culture I've seen has mastered the skill of apathy (yes, apathy is a skill when applied to certain situations) quite like the Mexi's have. It's quite amazing, really. They enjoy life and make the most of it by not caring. Essentially, they care by not caring at all. It's freaking genius. On paper, that concept makes about as much sense as a grown man in drag riding a Harley, but it works for them, and that's all that really matters.
So when I say that Mexicans are lazy and don't really care much about anything, it's true, but it should also be taken as a mighty fine compliment. Mexicans may not be on their way to world domination, unless you define world domination by tequila and refried bean consumption, but they do know how to relax, and host those that are looking for the same vibe. I don't go on vacation to take on someone else's damn agenda, and I sure as hell don't go on vacation to be busy. I go on vacation to forget about life's worries and do anything I please, which usually entails some variation of beer, art (music, writing, film, etc.) and being as sedentary as possible. For those things, Mexico is a small slice of heaven. Author's Note: This last trip to Mexico was not intended to be a vacation, but, well, like I alluded to, it's hard not to fall into vacation mode when you're in Mexico.
A word from the wise, folks....escape. Allow yourselves to escape. Whether it be a trip to Mexico, a trip to your own favorite destination, or simply an "escape" into the pages of an engaging novel or lyrics to a great song, just make sure you escape. Often. Life, although beautiful in small doses, can be a motherfucker. If you don't have a safe place to go, physical or mental, you'll end up mental, and that's not fun for anyone. Now go find your happy place and get right with the universe. It's needs your help.
TWF
You see, Mexico, and the Baja Peninsula in particular, is a hidden gem. Sure, you can get shot, stabbed, raped and robbed, all in the same day if you're really dumb, but those are minor deterances. Let's talk benefits. Ah, the benefits. For starters, the place we stay sits perched on a cliff that rises 30 feet above the majestic Pacific Ocean. A jacuzzi is positioned in the back yard overlooking the beach, perfect for watching sunset, drinking beer and doing whatever your dirty little mind conjures up. There are only 2-3 houses on either side of the property, so even when there are neighbors present, which there rarely are since this is a vacation rental development and not many people reside there full time, you feel like you are in your own world with your own rules. And you know what I think about creating my own rules now....sehr gut, herr doctor. Or as my little Hispanic hosts would say, "Muy Bueno."
Now I could go on and on about the house and all of its amenities, but that would really belie the point I'm working towards. The beauty of Mexico, what really puts it at, or near, the very top of my list of vacation destinations is this: everyone is so effing lazy and very little, if anything, is seen as an urgent matter (aside from Soccer, which I also love). That's right. I just said that I love a country essentially because it's people are inherently lazy. Now before you start writing me hate mail and calling me ignorant, let me explain what I mean.
You may or may not have heard the term "Manana." In Spanish it means "Tomorrow," but when applied to Mexicans it refers to the attitude the indigenous people have towards life in general. There's just no great sense of urgency to get things done and it creates a wonderful atmosphere of relaxation and a feeling that nothing really matters as much as society would have you believe. As soon as you cross the border into Mexico, you feel like there is nothing urgent in life aside from getting a nice cold cerveza in your hand as soon as humanly possible. What better attitude could you hope to gain when you need to retreat from reality? I've traveled the world over and I can say from experience that no other culture I've seen has mastered the skill of apathy (yes, apathy is a skill when applied to certain situations) quite like the Mexi's have. It's quite amazing, really. They enjoy life and make the most of it by not caring. Essentially, they care by not caring at all. It's freaking genius. On paper, that concept makes about as much sense as a grown man in drag riding a Harley, but it works for them, and that's all that really matters.
So when I say that Mexicans are lazy and don't really care much about anything, it's true, but it should also be taken as a mighty fine compliment. Mexicans may not be on their way to world domination, unless you define world domination by tequila and refried bean consumption, but they do know how to relax, and host those that are looking for the same vibe. I don't go on vacation to take on someone else's damn agenda, and I sure as hell don't go on vacation to be busy. I go on vacation to forget about life's worries and do anything I please, which usually entails some variation of beer, art (music, writing, film, etc.) and being as sedentary as possible. For those things, Mexico is a small slice of heaven. Author's Note: This last trip to Mexico was not intended to be a vacation, but, well, like I alluded to, it's hard not to fall into vacation mode when you're in Mexico.
A word from the wise, folks....escape. Allow yourselves to escape. Whether it be a trip to Mexico, a trip to your own favorite destination, or simply an "escape" into the pages of an engaging novel or lyrics to a great song, just make sure you escape. Often. Life, although beautiful in small doses, can be a motherfucker. If you don't have a safe place to go, physical or mental, you'll end up mental, and that's not fun for anyone. Now go find your happy place and get right with the universe. It's needs your help.
TWF
Friday, October 19, 2007
A New World
This evening, I began to investigate life outside The Office Diaries. In other words, I decided to leave the cocoon of my own blog to check out what else is out there. It's not that I've been so self-absorbed that I didn't care what else exists in blogger-land, it's just that I really had no idea how many other areas in blogger.com there are. This is partly because this isn't the most user friendly site in the world. Um, wait, please don't erase my blog, Google. I do appreciate you letting me blog for free and all. I'm just surprised that a cool tech company like you can make a site that is so consistently difficult to navigate.
The best blog I've come across so far is this: http://gulfcoastmommy.blogspot.com/2007/10/its-in-my-eye.html. This person has a great writing style. She's got a way of writing about random, every day occurances and turning them into hilarious stories. Sort of reminds me of how I like to write. I hate to use cliches, but the classic "truth is stranger than fiction" is spot on. I've learned over the years through journaling that you just can't make up some of the stuff that happens in real life and expect readers to believe it. You just can't. Life is too much of a "trip." You can, however, take a story that you've been part of and/or seen, embellish it just a touch, and get a great response. The secret lies in realizing that people are in fact "characters." If you really pay attention to what people do and say, and how they act, you'll notice that it's tough to create a fictional character that can be as entertaining as anyone you come into contact with each day. Any good writer, and I'm certainly not labeling myself a good writer, is extremely observant. Personally, I've always thoroughly enjoyed people watching, but I've only recently realized that I can put that semi-obsession to work for me. Now if I can only get my 183 other previously useless "talents" work work for me, I'll be rich.
The best blog I've come across so far is this: http://gulfcoastmommy.blogspot.com/2007/10/its-in-my-eye.html. This person has a great writing style. She's got a way of writing about random, every day occurances and turning them into hilarious stories. Sort of reminds me of how I like to write. I hate to use cliches, but the classic "truth is stranger than fiction" is spot on. I've learned over the years through journaling that you just can't make up some of the stuff that happens in real life and expect readers to believe it. You just can't. Life is too much of a "trip." You can, however, take a story that you've been part of and/or seen, embellish it just a touch, and get a great response. The secret lies in realizing that people are in fact "characters." If you really pay attention to what people do and say, and how they act, you'll notice that it's tough to create a fictional character that can be as entertaining as anyone you come into contact with each day. Any good writer, and I'm certainly not labeling myself a good writer, is extremely observant. Personally, I've always thoroughly enjoyed people watching, but I've only recently realized that I can put that semi-obsession to work for me. Now if I can only get my 183 other previously useless "talents" work work for me, I'll be rich.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
What the F%!*?
More from my world:
-I love strolling into the office in the morning, minding my p's and q's, only to get absolutely bombarded with questions before I can even set my keys in my lovely cube space. It's unbelievable. You'd think that all 11 of my team members have been huddling together, thinking of questions to ask me at the very moment they see me, and not a god damn second later.
-Heineken is such a wonderful, sumptuous gift from the heavens. The beautiful green bottle, so enticing when it's ice cold. I've got a great little beer fridge in my Man Den (story for another time), but I just don't think a refrigerator does the Green Bottle justice. I imagine such a wonderful beverage should be delivered by little Man Den Elves. I wonder if they're in season with Christmas Elves? Perhaps they could live in a small, yet luxurious dwelling (any being that maintains the Green Bottle deserves a first-rate abode) behind the fridge in the Den. That way nobody would know about them except me, and my Fridge would always be stocked with "happy medicine." Plus, when I've had one too many Heineken's, the elves could scurry out from their little factory and cover me with a blanket, all while making little elf noises like the miniature dudes from Spaceballs. Yes, indeed. That's the life right there.
-By the way, if anyone reading this knows of a place that I can get paid good money to write my random thoughts, I'm all ears. What a freakin' awesome job. I could get jacked up on heaps of caffeine every day and write about all the weird people/things in the world. Then again, why would I want to do something that will leave me satisfied for 10 hours a day? If I'm being honest, the office does have all my favorite things: staplers, envelopes (and they're free!),printers, reports, bosses, cubes (oh, how I adore being confined to a cube), elevators, reception desks and all the quirky people and awkward conversation a guy could ever hope for. It's like heaven, only it looks and feels much more like hell. Quite the dichotomy.
-Thursday nights are cool. I know I've only got one day left in the work week, I feel like I can stay up and play a little longer than other weeknights, and I'm assured of a plethora of quality TV like "The Office" and "My Name is Earl." Plus, during this time of year we're blessed with all kinds of good sports. We've got the baseball playoffs, football season is in full swing; what a beautiful time of year. I can literally spend days on end in the Man Den, and if my wife would let me, I would. I'd plant myself in there, stock the fridge with Heineken (the elves would re-stock when I ran out), and watch sports, play guitar and blog until the year 2063. Like Howard muthafuckin' Hughes! Trust me, a few hours in the Man Den and you'd think that dude was a freakin' genius. Why, pray tell, would you want to leave the friendly confines of the Man Den when you've got everything you need right in front of you (and I don't even have a super sweet mansion like Hughes did)? I suppose I'd have to call for delivery, but that's a minor inconvenience. After a while, I wouldn't even have to talk to the delivery place. They would just look at caller ID and know exactly what I want. I could maybe just grunt to confirm my order, leave money outside the door and the guy could leave me and my food in peace. No, in all seriousness, I would never want to be that much of a hermit. I'd at least be friends with the delivery guy. Bada bing! I'm telling you, people. You all think I'm nuts, but build yourself a Man Den and you won't be disappointed.
-I love strolling into the office in the morning, minding my p's and q's, only to get absolutely bombarded with questions before I can even set my keys in my lovely cube space. It's unbelievable. You'd think that all 11 of my team members have been huddling together, thinking of questions to ask me at the very moment they see me, and not a god damn second later.
-Heineken is such a wonderful, sumptuous gift from the heavens. The beautiful green bottle, so enticing when it's ice cold. I've got a great little beer fridge in my Man Den (story for another time), but I just don't think a refrigerator does the Green Bottle justice. I imagine such a wonderful beverage should be delivered by little Man Den Elves. I wonder if they're in season with Christmas Elves? Perhaps they could live in a small, yet luxurious dwelling (any being that maintains the Green Bottle deserves a first-rate abode) behind the fridge in the Den. That way nobody would know about them except me, and my Fridge would always be stocked with "happy medicine." Plus, when I've had one too many Heineken's, the elves could scurry out from their little factory and cover me with a blanket, all while making little elf noises like the miniature dudes from Spaceballs. Yes, indeed. That's the life right there.
-By the way, if anyone reading this knows of a place that I can get paid good money to write my random thoughts, I'm all ears. What a freakin' awesome job. I could get jacked up on heaps of caffeine every day and write about all the weird people/things in the world. Then again, why would I want to do something that will leave me satisfied for 10 hours a day? If I'm being honest, the office does have all my favorite things: staplers, envelopes (and they're free!),printers, reports, bosses, cubes (oh, how I adore being confined to a cube), elevators, reception desks and all the quirky people and awkward conversation a guy could ever hope for. It's like heaven, only it looks and feels much more like hell. Quite the dichotomy.
-Thursday nights are cool. I know I've only got one day left in the work week, I feel like I can stay up and play a little longer than other weeknights, and I'm assured of a plethora of quality TV like "The Office" and "My Name is Earl." Plus, during this time of year we're blessed with all kinds of good sports. We've got the baseball playoffs, football season is in full swing; what a beautiful time of year. I can literally spend days on end in the Man Den, and if my wife would let me, I would. I'd plant myself in there, stock the fridge with Heineken (the elves would re-stock when I ran out), and watch sports, play guitar and blog until the year 2063. Like Howard muthafuckin' Hughes! Trust me, a few hours in the Man Den and you'd think that dude was a freakin' genius. Why, pray tell, would you want to leave the friendly confines of the Man Den when you've got everything you need right in front of you (and I don't even have a super sweet mansion like Hughes did)? I suppose I'd have to call for delivery, but that's a minor inconvenience. After a while, I wouldn't even have to talk to the delivery place. They would just look at caller ID and know exactly what I want. I could maybe just grunt to confirm my order, leave money outside the door and the guy could leave me and my food in peace. No, in all seriousness, I would never want to be that much of a hermit. I'd at least be friends with the delivery guy. Bada bing! I'm telling you, people. You all think I'm nuts, but build yourself a Man Den and you won't be disappointed.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Random Thoughts
A few random observations/comments from today:
-I saw the raddest, most bodacious set of 80's bangs today while I was driving on the freeway. They were so awesome that when I saw them I had to do a double take, and then I immediately wanted to listen to Bon Jovi or Poison and put on some ass tight, acid washed jeans. It's always refreshing to see someone that absolutely resists forward progress.
-The "big" announcement I made to my team today about leaving management was rather, how should I say, uneventful. When I broke the "news", the team looked at me with with mild interest for about 1 split second and then it was more the look of "you brought me in here for an early morning meeting to tell me that, asshole?"....which was pretty sweet for my ego.
-I wonder how long I can go on writing this blog while knowing that nobody is reading it? If a blog is written and nobody reads it is it even a real blog? On the positive tip (I learned that word listening to hip-hop...yo), Kerouac wasn't a very well known writer when he was in his prime, so, um, maybe I'll be super well respected after I croak. Wait. What good would that do me? I want to be well respected (read: rich) now, so I can waste money on blow and hookers. Did I write that? I meant flowers and diamonds for my wife. Hi honey.
-Life's a bitch. 99% of us are working in a job that we don't like. Sure, I pulled that statistic out of thin air, but I'm sure I'm not far off. What does that say about where our world is headed? No wonder there is so much conflict. If most of us are unhappy doing what takes up most of our time, how the hell are we supposed to do anything about the problems we face (Global Warming, wars, genocide, etc.)? I'll tell you how; more Heineken. That's right. Keep your fridge stocked with Heineken, so when you have a bad day you can at least come home to a fridge full of cold, green bottles. Have enough of those, and your outlook on life becomes a lot brighter. On that note, I'll bid you all adieu for the evening.
Cheers,
TFree
-I saw the raddest, most bodacious set of 80's bangs today while I was driving on the freeway. They were so awesome that when I saw them I had to do a double take, and then I immediately wanted to listen to Bon Jovi or Poison and put on some ass tight, acid washed jeans. It's always refreshing to see someone that absolutely resists forward progress.
-The "big" announcement I made to my team today about leaving management was rather, how should I say, uneventful. When I broke the "news", the team looked at me with with mild interest for about 1 split second and then it was more the look of "you brought me in here for an early morning meeting to tell me that, asshole?"....which was pretty sweet for my ego.
-I wonder how long I can go on writing this blog while knowing that nobody is reading it? If a blog is written and nobody reads it is it even a real blog? On the positive tip (I learned that word listening to hip-hop...yo), Kerouac wasn't a very well known writer when he was in his prime, so, um, maybe I'll be super well respected after I croak. Wait. What good would that do me? I want to be well respected (read: rich) now, so I can waste money on blow and hookers. Did I write that? I meant flowers and diamonds for my wife. Hi honey.
-Life's a bitch. 99% of us are working in a job that we don't like. Sure, I pulled that statistic out of thin air, but I'm sure I'm not far off. What does that say about where our world is headed? No wonder there is so much conflict. If most of us are unhappy doing what takes up most of our time, how the hell are we supposed to do anything about the problems we face (Global Warming, wars, genocide, etc.)? I'll tell you how; more Heineken. That's right. Keep your fridge stocked with Heineken, so when you have a bad day you can at least come home to a fridge full of cold, green bottles. Have enough of those, and your outlook on life becomes a lot brighter. On that note, I'll bid you all adieu for the evening.
Cheers,
TFree
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Winds of Change
Tomorrow is a big day. I will be telling my team of 11 sales people that I'll no longer be their manager, effective as soon as I can trick someone else into doing this terrible work. I'm not super fired up about having to make myself the center of attention by breaking "news" about myself, even if only for 10 minutes, but I'm extremely excited about the actual change. I am so over being a corporate slave, masquerading as a sales manager, that I'm ready to go postal on anyone that dares utter a "happy Monday" or any other term that should be limited to satirical TV shows like "The Office."
Speaking of "The Office", what a fantastic piece of comedy. After living in England and consequently having an allegiance to the British version of the show, I never thought I'd be as into the "Yank" interpretation, but I must say, this show is top class. Not only is it well written, but the subject matter is something that I can relate to, and I'm hoping the two people that read this blog can too (otherwise I'm fucked). I pray to the universe that most of you don't have co-workers and a boss as unbelievably idiotic as the characters on this show. Admittedly, this fine blog you're reading was spawned from the ideas I get while stuck in an office that resembles "The Office", but at no time have I had to deal with anyone as mentally challenged as the character Michael from the show. Shit, maybe it would be better if I did have a boss like that. Then I wouldn't have to embellish my material.
Cheerio folks. I'll be back tomorrow for more, um, entertainment?
Monday, October 15, 2007
Monday Fun Day
Just a smidgen of sarcasm in the title of this one. Yep, juuust a touch. I'm sitting at my desk right now trying to pretend that the drizzly, cloudy day outside isn't as perfect for staying at home as my mind keeps trying to tell me it is. It's days like these that my brain, bless it, goes into overdrive trying to come up with excuses for me to get out of work. It's amazing how creative the mind can be when you get it in your head that you don't want to do something. If I had to create a math equation to explain the heavens and the earth to get out of coming to the office, I'd have it done in 10 minutes, tops.
Here's a little peek into my wonderful world this morning: I enter our office space on the first floor and take the stairs so I don't have to pretend I give a crap about anyone I might have to share a 10 second elevator ride with. Coming at me in another direction at the bottom of the stairwell are two developers. I know that they are developers because when they see me they look to the floor, wall, ceiling and anything but me so quickly that you'd think I was Medusa and they would turn to stone if they saw my eyes. Nope. Social folks developers are not.
Anyhow, I get to my desk and try to position myself in a way that suggests "piss off" to any of my team members that might come to me with a question. Just when I've sunk in nice a comfortable like, opened my "The Wicked Wit of Winston Churchill" quote book and begun the process of trying to avoid work, I get a request over Instant Messenger from one of my team members to approve something (the authority to approve certain requests is something that sounds good to prospective managers, but is actually just another responsibility that takes up time and causes people to badger you). I duly give my approval and then comes the reply that is like Monday, the actual day of the week, slapping me in the face....front hand and back hand: "Happy Monday." Happy Monday? Happy Monday?! Are you f*&%#!*$ kidding me? Who says that? I thought "TGIF" was unacceptable, but at least that farce of a term refers to a day we all like. Happy Monday? I was literally lost for words,which isn't something that happens to me very often. What's so happy about Monday? Pray, tell. All I could muster was a "you too", even though what I really wanted to do was go grab her by the collar and shake her around a bit, maybe slap her once or twice for good measure, ala the classic scene from "Airplane." G-o-o-d G-o-d. I really thought I was crazy, but now I'm beginning to think I'm one of the big fish in the increasingly small normal pond.
This is what I have to deal with on a daily basis. For all of you other poor people that go through the same ridiculousness, I feel your pain.
Here's a little peek into my wonderful world this morning: I enter our office space on the first floor and take the stairs so I don't have to pretend I give a crap about anyone I might have to share a 10 second elevator ride with. Coming at me in another direction at the bottom of the stairwell are two developers. I know that they are developers because when they see me they look to the floor, wall, ceiling and anything but me so quickly that you'd think I was Medusa and they would turn to stone if they saw my eyes. Nope. Social folks developers are not.
Anyhow, I get to my desk and try to position myself in a way that suggests "piss off" to any of my team members that might come to me with a question. Just when I've sunk in nice a comfortable like, opened my "The Wicked Wit of Winston Churchill" quote book and begun the process of trying to avoid work, I get a request over Instant Messenger from one of my team members to approve something (the authority to approve certain requests is something that sounds good to prospective managers, but is actually just another responsibility that takes up time and causes people to badger you). I duly give my approval and then comes the reply that is like Monday, the actual day of the week, slapping me in the face....front hand and back hand: "Happy Monday." Happy Monday? Happy Monday?! Are you f*&%#!*$ kidding me? Who says that? I thought "TGIF" was unacceptable, but at least that farce of a term refers to a day we all like. Happy Monday? I was literally lost for words,which isn't something that happens to me very often. What's so happy about Monday? Pray, tell. All I could muster was a "you too", even though what I really wanted to do was go grab her by the collar and shake her around a bit, maybe slap her once or twice for good measure, ala the classic scene from "Airplane." G-o-o-d G-o-d. I really thought I was crazy, but now I'm beginning to think I'm one of the big fish in the increasingly small normal pond.
This is what I have to deal with on a daily basis. For all of you other poor people that go through the same ridiculousness, I feel your pain.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
The Great Unknowns
That's the name I've given the 2007 NLCS. I mean, are you kidding me? The Arizona Diamondbacks and the Colorado Rockies playing for all (actually, just half) the marbles. A chance to go to the world series and play a team whose roster doesn't look like a collection of names from the witness protection program (Troy Tulowitski, Matt Holliday.....are you kidding me!?). Has there ever been a more anonymous group of Baseball players playing for such high stakes? Sure, there have been plenty of random teams to play deep into the "tournament" (the 2003 Marlins and 2005 Chicago White Sox come to mind), but never have two so called "Cinderella" teams played each other to go to the World Series and/or play in the World Series. Sure, the D-Backs had been the NL West Frontrunners since early July, but can anyone name more than one player on the team (and if you're thinking Brandon Webb, the 2006 NL Cy Young award winner, that barely counts as a guess)? And what about Arizona? Who can look themselves in the mirror and say that they knew anything about this team before they won 16 of 17 games in late August through September to erase a 6 game deficit, while in third place, to force a one game playoff with my beloved Padres? That's right, none of you can. I bet nobody even knows how they won the one game playoff against the Pads (it was a blown save by all-time great Trevor Hoffman. Thanks for making me relive that nightmare).
Do you see what I'm getting at, here? Neither do I, aside to say that not only do most of you not care about this series, but neither does anyone outside Arizona and Colorado. I don't have the Nielson Ratings, but I'd guess tonight's game was watched by all of 40,000 people, and that's being generous. The sad thing is, aside from the ratings, I told my buddy Jeffe that this would end up being one of the best series' ever. Oops. Judging by the weak play and 5-1, Colorado scoreline, I'm thinking I'd really like to retract that statement. This could very easily be a Colorado sweep with no real competition. I know first hand from the Padres' misfortune that the Rockies are a team of destiny right now, if there ever was one. Nothing can go wrong from them and that should have the rest of the playoff contenders shaking in their spikes. If Colorado finishes off Arizona, Boston or Cleveland are going to have some suicidal fans come World Series end. But then again, it's not like those cities have passionate and tortured fans or anything. Poor bastards.
T
Do you see what I'm getting at, here? Neither do I, aside to say that not only do most of you not care about this series, but neither does anyone outside Arizona and Colorado. I don't have the Nielson Ratings, but I'd guess tonight's game was watched by all of 40,000 people, and that's being generous. The sad thing is, aside from the ratings, I told my buddy Jeffe that this would end up being one of the best series' ever. Oops. Judging by the weak play and 5-1, Colorado scoreline, I'm thinking I'd really like to retract that statement. This could very easily be a Colorado sweep with no real competition. I know first hand from the Padres' misfortune that the Rockies are a team of destiny right now, if there ever was one. Nothing can go wrong from them and that should have the rest of the playoff contenders shaking in their spikes. If Colorado finishes off Arizona, Boston or Cleveland are going to have some suicidal fans come World Series end. But then again, it's not like those cities have passionate and tortured fans or anything. Poor bastards.
T
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
The Rollercoaster
"Buy the ticket, take the ride."
-Hunter S. Thompson
Somewhere in my existence as a non-earth bound, spirit being, I decided to "take the ride" on this twisted, amusement park of a journey know as life on earth. Quite often, I wish I could stand toe to toe with that higher form of myself that made the decision to become earth bound and punch me/it in the nose.
You see, for me, life is one giant roller coaster. One day life is a "box of chocolates" and another I can barely muster the energy to get through the day. I say screw the whole life is a box of chocolates viewpoint. Life is a goddamn marathon and I'm the fat dude. Some people preach that it's all about not letting the highs get too high or the lows get too low. Yeah, sounds great. If I could get some instructions on how to pull that off I'd be forever indebted.
Anyway, in case it wasn't already obvious enough, today was a dip in the 'roller coaster.' I didn't feel a whole lot of inspiration and whenever that's the case I might as well go back to sleep. Take a Valium, draw the curtains and pretend I didn't even wake up. Unfortunately, that's never an option. I, like most of the world's population, have to force myself out of bed and fake that I want to be doing exactly what I don't want to be doing all day, every day. There must be another way to live. The world can't possibly be designed for the majority of it's human inhabitants to be unhappy. Damn it! I'm going to figure out a short cut to happy town, and when I do, I'm letting everyone in on the secret.
T
-Hunter S. Thompson
Somewhere in my existence as a non-earth bound, spirit being, I decided to "take the ride" on this twisted, amusement park of a journey know as life on earth. Quite often, I wish I could stand toe to toe with that higher form of myself that made the decision to become earth bound and punch me/it in the nose.
You see, for me, life is one giant roller coaster. One day life is a "box of chocolates" and another I can barely muster the energy to get through the day. I say screw the whole life is a box of chocolates viewpoint. Life is a goddamn marathon and I'm the fat dude. Some people preach that it's all about not letting the highs get too high or the lows get too low. Yeah, sounds great. If I could get some instructions on how to pull that off I'd be forever indebted.
Anyway, in case it wasn't already obvious enough, today was a dip in the 'roller coaster.' I didn't feel a whole lot of inspiration and whenever that's the case I might as well go back to sleep. Take a Valium, draw the curtains and pretend I didn't even wake up. Unfortunately, that's never an option. I, like most of the world's population, have to force myself out of bed and fake that I want to be doing exactly what I don't want to be doing all day, every day. There must be another way to live. The world can't possibly be designed for the majority of it's human inhabitants to be unhappy. Damn it! I'm going to figure out a short cut to happy town, and when I do, I'm letting everyone in on the secret.
T
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Stuck in Office Purgatory
Hello friend(s). Maybe there's more than one of you out there that are bored enough to read this, but I wouldn't bet my last swig of red wine on it. Between the hours of 8-5 from last week and at least until the end of November, I'll be stuck in a little place I like to call Office Purgatory. No folks, I'm not speaking of the mundane daily existence that most of us live in when we go to work, but rather that wonderful zone when you've got one foot out of your current position and the other firmly placed, along with your brain, in whatever "space" your next move occupies. In my case, I'm in the process of moving from sales management, or as I like to call it "adult babysitting", to sales/bus dev (business development for those of you that are lucky enough to not live the corporate life). Yes, yes, I know, I am lucky to even have the choice of escaping a position I despise to another in the same company (most people would get fired for even asking for a move like that, right??), but that doesn't make my current spot any sweeter.
Each day, I wake up with butterflies in my belly. You know the ones I'm referring to. Much like the feeling you get when you're 12 and about to go on your first date or when you have just ingested a certain round shaped "vitamin" and your stomach drops to the floor forcing you to scurry awkwardly to the nearest restroom. The difference is that my day doesn't get better as it goes on, whereas the follow ups to the aforementioned situations almost inevitably do. No sir, my day continues with me walking into the office and proceeding to do a bunch of things that I can't stand doing. Almost all of which involve completing tasks for people I don't respect or even like in most cases. As if this existence wasn't bad enough when it was the only job I could foresee in my near future, it's now just a job I'm keeping "warm" for the next poor bastard that gets hired. You know the "lame duck coach" status sports journalists bestow on coaches that are waiting to move on? Well that's me. I've already been permitted my intra-company move back to sales, but I can't actually begin until the company backfills for my position. Not a fun place to be, let me tell you. If I was really trying to say the "right" thing, I'd say that I'm just happy for what I have, but saying the right thing isn't my goal. My goal is to speak my mind and move on to another situation that will serve me better than the situation I'm currently in. If you don't like my attitude, move along now. Cheerio. Wait....are you gone yet? I actually need to build my reader base, so I'm sorry for offending you....sort of.
So there you have it. "Office Purgatory." Is it possible to copyright a term? I know a word can be "coined", but what the hell does that mean? If it means I'll make coin by doing it, I'm all in. Otherwise, I'm moving on to planning how I can get more than one person to read this damn blog. Well, there is that mass email thing-a-ma-jig, but then I'd have to learn how to use technology.....
Cheers,
T
Each day, I wake up with butterflies in my belly. You know the ones I'm referring to. Much like the feeling you get when you're 12 and about to go on your first date or when you have just ingested a certain round shaped "vitamin" and your stomach drops to the floor forcing you to scurry awkwardly to the nearest restroom. The difference is that my day doesn't get better as it goes on, whereas the follow ups to the aforementioned situations almost inevitably do. No sir, my day continues with me walking into the office and proceeding to do a bunch of things that I can't stand doing. Almost all of which involve completing tasks for people I don't respect or even like in most cases. As if this existence wasn't bad enough when it was the only job I could foresee in my near future, it's now just a job I'm keeping "warm" for the next poor bastard that gets hired. You know the "lame duck coach" status sports journalists bestow on coaches that are waiting to move on? Well that's me. I've already been permitted my intra-company move back to sales, but I can't actually begin until the company backfills for my position. Not a fun place to be, let me tell you. If I was really trying to say the "right" thing, I'd say that I'm just happy for what I have, but saying the right thing isn't my goal. My goal is to speak my mind and move on to another situation that will serve me better than the situation I'm currently in. If you don't like my attitude, move along now. Cheerio. Wait....are you gone yet? I actually need to build my reader base, so I'm sorry for offending you....sort of.
So there you have it. "Office Purgatory." Is it possible to copyright a term? I know a word can be "coined", but what the hell does that mean? If it means I'll make coin by doing it, I'm all in. Otherwise, I'm moving on to planning how I can get more than one person to read this damn blog. Well, there is that mass email thing-a-ma-jig, but then I'd have to learn how to use technology.....
Cheers,
T
Monday, October 8, 2007
Welcome
Welcome to my blog. I've entitled it The Office Diaries, but don't take the words too literally. Although I will periodically write about my "cube jockey" existence, stuck between the walls of a corporate office 5 days a week, and the other office dwellers that make me laugh (most of the time I laugh at them, not with them), this blog will generally be much more broad. The term Office Diaries just refers to the fact that I often write while at work and I hope it appeals to others who are confined to an office environment, or maybe just a job/situation that they don't enjoy. Basically, I hope this blog provides you some sort of escape, however brief, from a situation you don't want to be in. You can expect to read about sports, entertainment, art, politics and anything else that I feel like rambling on about, because isn't that really what blogs are for, rambling? Plus, I have some intriguing/borderline crazy friends that will no doubt provide some fresh text when you all start threatening to jump out the window if I don't shut up.
We humans love to think that others care about what we have to say, which quite often is a totally false assumption. I'm of the opinion that even your closest friends aren't listening to you half the time. You only think they are because you aren't really paying attention to them not listening. Funny behavior isn't it? The beauty of a blog is that you can naively assume that everyone that reads it actually agrees with you and finds you interesting, when in reality they may just be bored stiff and thinking about the emergence of the color pink in mens' closets across America. I know I certainly get to that point when I'm in the office sometimes. You know those days at work when the clock seems like it's frozen at 10 a.m. and you've already visited your favorite websites so many times that you could recite every piece of content like it came from your own "dome?" Unfortunately, those days come too often for me.
You see, I'm a creative soul and my job is anything but creative. My title says "Sales Manager", but my day-to-day responsibilities amount to little more than cleaning up other people's messes (aren't adults supposed to handle their own messes??) and doing tasks that VP's and other executives delegate (read: are too lazy and/or arrogant to do). Now don't get me wrong, if I was an executive I would delegate 'till the cows came home, but that's beside the point. I just don't feel any sort of passion for what I do. Some people can wake up everyday and go to a job that doesn't light their "fire", but I, fine folks, can not. It's just not in my genetic make up to do anything that I don't want to do for an extended period, especially when it requires 50-60 hours a week of my precious time. Why others can die a slow death in an office, doing a job that they don't like is a mystery to me. But hey, to each their own. As far as I'm concerned, they are just lowering the odds of me doing something great because with each office zombie stands someone that won't be competing with me for greatness. Suckers.
The real reason I'm now an aspiring blogger extraordinaire is two fold: 1. I write (almost always sarcastically) in a journal everyday, often times about funny/quirky things I see in the office and the outside world. 2. Why not publish the less dark side of my journal entires (trust me, you don't want to see how nutty I can be) in blog form so other people who find themselves stuck in an office, doing work for a boss they don't like and a company they don't believe in will have yet another site to waste time on? Quite simply, the idea makes sense to me and I hope it does for you. And if it doesn't, I'll still pretend it does, because like I said, I don't have to look at you not paying attention to me.
We humans love to think that others care about what we have to say, which quite often is a totally false assumption. I'm of the opinion that even your closest friends aren't listening to you half the time. You only think they are because you aren't really paying attention to them not listening. Funny behavior isn't it? The beauty of a blog is that you can naively assume that everyone that reads it actually agrees with you and finds you interesting, when in reality they may just be bored stiff and thinking about the emergence of the color pink in mens' closets across America. I know I certainly get to that point when I'm in the office sometimes. You know those days at work when the clock seems like it's frozen at 10 a.m. and you've already visited your favorite websites so many times that you could recite every piece of content like it came from your own "dome?" Unfortunately, those days come too often for me.
You see, I'm a creative soul and my job is anything but creative. My title says "Sales Manager", but my day-to-day responsibilities amount to little more than cleaning up other people's messes (aren't adults supposed to handle their own messes??) and doing tasks that VP's and other executives delegate (read: are too lazy and/or arrogant to do). Now don't get me wrong, if I was an executive I would delegate 'till the cows came home, but that's beside the point. I just don't feel any sort of passion for what I do. Some people can wake up everyday and go to a job that doesn't light their "fire", but I, fine folks, can not. It's just not in my genetic make up to do anything that I don't want to do for an extended period, especially when it requires 50-60 hours a week of my precious time. Why others can die a slow death in an office, doing a job that they don't like is a mystery to me. But hey, to each their own. As far as I'm concerned, they are just lowering the odds of me doing something great because with each office zombie stands someone that won't be competing with me for greatness. Suckers.
The real reason I'm now an aspiring blogger extraordinaire is two fold: 1. I write (almost always sarcastically) in a journal everyday, often times about funny/quirky things I see in the office and the outside world. 2. Why not publish the less dark side of my journal entires (trust me, you don't want to see how nutty I can be) in blog form so other people who find themselves stuck in an office, doing work for a boss they don't like and a company they don't believe in will have yet another site to waste time on? Quite simply, the idea makes sense to me and I hope it does for you. And if it doesn't, I'll still pretend it does, because like I said, I don't have to look at you not paying attention to me.
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