I write for the wrong reasons. I write because I like the tactile feeling of keys depressing beneath my fingers as they dance across the keyboard writing contrarian nonsense. I write because my brain begins to overflow with rushing, buzzing thoughts that won’t go outside and play except through the timely thrust of lettered buttons pushing back against the tips of my digits. I write because no one wants to podcast with me, spar and commiserate with me over the myriad problems facing the United States and its dysfunctional form of democracy (plus I hate the sound of my own voice). I write because it functions as low-level creativity and seems to at least temporarily satiate my yearning to share a bit of my ghost with someone else, assuming, of course, I don’t simply delete what my keyboard cages.
Lunchtime Blog Post Number 3
Over the the weekend I accomplished very little of the numerous creative projects I had tentatively planned on tackling. Instead, I wasted a lot of time watching TV shows and a couple of films that left me feeling just as hollow as before watching them.
My dysfunctional mind, instead of realigning or rescheduling things I intended to do, simply drops them from the list, unstricken, never to trouble me again, that is, until I realize on Sunday night I completely squandered my weekend.
In my American Literature class today, we continued discussing various Emily Dickinson poems. One poem in particular should have made a deeper impression upon my class, “I’m Nobody! Who are you?”, but they weren’t able to understand and internalize the meaning behind the words. I suppose I can’t really blame them too much as English is their second language, and I don’t suppose too many American students would find the deeper meaning appealing at the same age. I guess no one wants to believe they are the bog (swamp) in a poem’s less-than-flattering metaphor.
As time permits, I’d like to get into the habit of blogging during my lunch break(s), this being the first such post. As I don’t much feel like writing about what I ate for lunch, I suppose I need to begin a new paragraph.
I don’t have a lot on my mind these days. Basically, I’m just waiting out this part of life to get to the better parts beyond. I know. I know. I’ve heard it before, it’s not about the destination, but it’s the trip that should be enjoyed, and I get that. And for the most part, I am enjoying this trip called life, but I know a light at the end of the tunnel awaits me come the middle of July when I’ll once again know the meaning of true freedom once more.
In the meantime, I’ve been walking a lot on weekends and playing basketball throughout the week. Last week, I caught someone’s fingertips in my right eye, and it took about a week for that eye to get back to normal. Every morning I would awaken to a blurry film of goop which I needed to blink away and then rub off my long thick crusty eyelashes. Bright light made me wince in pain as my right eye hurt when it constricted my pupil. I’m all better now, and I can’t wait to play basketball with those teachers who nearly blinded me once again.
I’ve been following MLB baseball this season. I shelled out the $19.99 for MLB @ Bat so I can listen to my favorite teams teams, the Cleveland Indians, Cincinnati Reds, and New York Yankees, play ball on my Bluetooth speaker sent from either my computer or my phone. That low price also entitles me to watch the “Game of the Day” for free. So as far as getting live professional sports content for a low low price, you can’t beat MLB @ Bat! Go Tribe!
The weather here (at my secret location) has warmed up nicely already this spring, and I’ve bought several very nice and very cool, breathable polo shirts. I wouldn’t yet call myself a clotheshorse, but my closet has become a little too full. So much so that I need to bag up my winter weather clothes to make more room for my summer clothes.
In conclusion (the best way to end a lunchtime blog post), I think this blogging session has been a limited success. I count at least 3 paragraphs (not counting this one) of information above.
After careful consideration, and after having read reports that all new Twitter sign-ups require registration of a phone number, decided to bite the bullet and hand over my Google Voice phone number to Twitter for the sole purpose of using that social network to promote this blog. There’s nothing social about it, I assure you. But because I have so few followers on Twitter these days, I don’t think it will make a difference one way or the other.
As for the other big American social networking behemoth, I’m referring of course to Facebook, not LinkedIn, I’m currently weighing the pros and cons of cross-posting links to my WordPress posts there. However, to my mind, the negatives of linking this very personal blog with my real name and very impersonal Facebook “friends” far outweigh the positives and probably isn’t the best idea for someone who prefers to remain a ghost, unknown, so nobody can touch me now. I prefer to remain a ghost or a shadow on Facebook at least. I don’t want random former school chums or co-workers creeping into the comments or worse yet, secretly stalking me in the attempt to discover how I take my coffee (cream and 2 sugars) or where I shop (Uniqlo). So, a ghost I remain.
I’ve been doing some very deep thinking about super heroes lately. Perhaps it has something to do with my falling in love with Wonder Woman, or it could be related to the fact that I watch all the super hero TV shows (except Agent Carter, Super Girl, and Arrow).
Most of the best super heroes weren’t born that way. Instead, they started out as normal human beings, with strengths and weaknesses, flaws, and talents. But something transformative molds them into something special; still flawed, but better and more powerful than they were before.
Peter Parker was a puny high school runt who was bitten by a radioactive spider and became Spider-Man. Steve Rogers survived Polio and became Captain America thanks to Project:Rebirth. Bruce Wayne’s parents were murdered right in front of him, leaving him orphaned with only billions of dollars and a massively successful company to sustain him through childhood before becoming the Batman. Kal-El (Clark Kent) had to put up with his folksy human, Smallville adoptive parents and pretended to be human, all the while hiding his super powers. Princess Diana (Prince) left an island paradise full of beautiful Amazon warriors to fight evil, all the while resisting what must be an overwhelming urge to wrap the Lasso of Hestia (Lasso of Truth) around the neck of every politician on Earth.
Suffering through adversity might be the one thing I have in common with the aforementioned super heroes, though my misfortunes have largely been of my own creation. Obviously I’m not clairvoyant. In fact, even my faculty of hindsight doesn’t rise to the level of a competency. I repeat patters and mistakes, thereby hatching new regrets and nemeses (nemesi?). Although I definitely have a a back-story to rival those of my favorite heroes, and despite the wearing of super hero T-shirts and Batman earring, it hasn’t been enough to propel my superpowers of punctuality and sarcasm into the realm of crime-prevention or world-saving.