So I think I mentioned that I was going to be writing an advice column for the site I write for - The Cincinnati Man.
Here's the genesis: Check With a Chick
Send a question or something. Read it. What have you.
Love and hugs
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Trying to keep my brain alive
I got a job.
It's good news. Because I didn't have a job. And money not only makes the world go 'round, it keeps me fed and clothed. Some of my favorite things to be are fed and clothed.
On the other hand, it's kind of a soulless job. It's boring, and 30 miles away. It leaves me little time for laundry, cleaning my house, going out with friends, playing with the dog, and above all, writing.
I've still written a couple things for The Cincinnati Man, and I'll be starting an advice column for them after the first of the year. So check that out if you're in total withdrawal. Hopefully at some point I'll get to the point where the job doesn't leave me devoid of creativity at the end of the day. My brain will stop its atrophy and I'll start thinking of things I want to say.
Thanks for reading. It never ceases to amaze me that people besides me like reading this shit. Love ya.
It's good news. Because I didn't have a job. And money not only makes the world go 'round, it keeps me fed and clothed. Some of my favorite things to be are fed and clothed.
On the other hand, it's kind of a soulless job. It's boring, and 30 miles away. It leaves me little time for laundry, cleaning my house, going out with friends, playing with the dog, and above all, writing.
I've still written a couple things for The Cincinnati Man, and I'll be starting an advice column for them after the first of the year. So check that out if you're in total withdrawal. Hopefully at some point I'll get to the point where the job doesn't leave me devoid of creativity at the end of the day. My brain will stop its atrophy and I'll start thinking of things I want to say.
Thanks for reading. It never ceases to amaze me that people besides me like reading this shit. Love ya.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
absence makes the heart...
Hm... grow fonder? Not really so much growing fonder but the absence allows for the burgeoning resentment to recede. I'm talking about the blog, of course.
That 30-day blog-a-thon was rough. I'm not going to lie- at the end, I was really getting to the point where I dreaded having to get on here. I wrote each one live that day- so there was no backlog when I didn't feel like writing. When I couldn't get to my computer and it was more stressful than fun or insightful. It was this total pain in the ass. But in the end, I'm glad I did it. Actually, the day after the last post- I was still staying at my parents' house, the computer was still broken, and I got home from a very long, stressful day, and the idea of trying to figure out a way to get the blog done was more than I could bear. I didn't care one way or another. The next morning, I looked at my calendar and realized that was day 31. Like, I had written on it every day for 30 days (including my lame-ass one from Dave's BlackBerry at the Bengals' game). So, I had made my goal and didn't even realize it. I felt like I was still only 2 weeks in.
A commitment completed, so to speak. I guess I might eventually become a grownup after all.
That 30-day blog-a-thon was rough. I'm not going to lie- at the end, I was really getting to the point where I dreaded having to get on here. I wrote each one live that day- so there was no backlog when I didn't feel like writing. When I couldn't get to my computer and it was more stressful than fun or insightful. It was this total pain in the ass. But in the end, I'm glad I did it. Actually, the day after the last post- I was still staying at my parents' house, the computer was still broken, and I got home from a very long, stressful day, and the idea of trying to figure out a way to get the blog done was more than I could bear. I didn't care one way or another. The next morning, I looked at my calendar and realized that was day 31. Like, I had written on it every day for 30 days (including my lame-ass one from Dave's BlackBerry at the Bengals' game). So, I had made my goal and didn't even realize it. I felt like I was still only 2 weeks in.
A commitment completed, so to speak. I guess I might eventually become a grownup after all.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
i am my beloved's and my beloved is mine
We all know that I fear commitment. Besides my 11-year relationship with Verizon Wireless and the same phone number, I can't stay in the same apartment, job, neighborhood, et cetera for longer than a year or two. Relationships envy the 1-year lease I will sign to an apartment.
I pride myself on my flexibility- not physically (because I'm not), but emotionally, mentally, and socially. I have a wide variety of friends, interests, and I'm pretty comfortable most everywhere. Except funerals. I am the person at funerals making unfunny puns or trying to ease tension with a joke that is neither appropriate or humorous. But people are often surprised to meet my circle of friends. There are tomboys and metrosexuals, good ol' boys and high maintenance ladies, young and old, gay and straight- there is nobody missing from my spectrum of friends.
While I'm generally not the type to feel like I have to have an escape route- I'm not going to leave town tomorrow. I can be spontaneous, but it's usually more of a lackadaisical/ooh, you're right- that would be fun than a case of cabin fever. But I also like to know there isn't too many things or people that I have to have around. I can go with the flow. I can not answer my phone while out with friends. I can eat most anything or anywhere. I can sleep in any position. Besides a strong aversion to porta-potties and a complete revulsion to going to the bathroom outdoors, I can hang with most situations for at least a while.
Ain't nothing gonna hold me down, oh no, I got to keep on movin'...
Sort of.
I came disastrously close to not making my blog post today. I'm at my parents' house, and their computer has apparently been sleeping around, because it's got a nasty virus (I told them to cover it with a rubber sheet at night). I got to the local library 7 minutes after close. Panic was setting in. I realized I had no way to access the Internet. The Internet, where I communicate, where I work (sort of), where I pay bills and make sure they're paid. I need you, Internet. I don't want you, but I need you.
Do you need me? Probably not. But like some kind of evolutionary mutual parasitism, you can't exist without the Dales of the world. Is the Internet my only contact with humans? No. I could get by without it. It would be difficult, but it seems like even America managed to scrimmage around for a couple hundred years without it. I remember looking at Prodigy on my friend Maggie's computer in the late 80s and thinking, "this is the dumbest shit I've ever seen. Why sit in a room by yourself, talking to people you'll never meet?" And tonight, I'm sitting at my parents' little computer desk with a borrowed laptop (thanks Katrina!) in front of their temporarily useless monitor, pecking out a little blog that probably nobody outside of my social circle reads because if I didn't- well, I don't know what would happen, but I prefer not to find out.
It's an unequal relationship I have with the Internet. But it is a commitment, and that's a good first step.
I pride myself on my flexibility- not physically (because I'm not), but emotionally, mentally, and socially. I have a wide variety of friends, interests, and I'm pretty comfortable most everywhere. Except funerals. I am the person at funerals making unfunny puns or trying to ease tension with a joke that is neither appropriate or humorous. But people are often surprised to meet my circle of friends. There are tomboys and metrosexuals, good ol' boys and high maintenance ladies, young and old, gay and straight- there is nobody missing from my spectrum of friends.
While I'm generally not the type to feel like I have to have an escape route- I'm not going to leave town tomorrow. I can be spontaneous, but it's usually more of a lackadaisical/ooh, you're right- that would be fun than a case of cabin fever. But I also like to know there isn't too many things or people that I have to have around. I can go with the flow. I can not answer my phone while out with friends. I can eat most anything or anywhere. I can sleep in any position. Besides a strong aversion to porta-potties and a complete revulsion to going to the bathroom outdoors, I can hang with most situations for at least a while.
Ain't nothing gonna hold me down, oh no, I got to keep on movin'...
Sort of.
I came disastrously close to not making my blog post today. I'm at my parents' house, and their computer has apparently been sleeping around, because it's got a nasty virus (I told them to cover it with a rubber sheet at night). I got to the local library 7 minutes after close. Panic was setting in. I realized I had no way to access the Internet. The Internet, where I communicate, where I work (sort of), where I pay bills and make sure they're paid. I need you, Internet. I don't want you, but I need you.
Do you need me? Probably not. But like some kind of evolutionary mutual parasitism, you can't exist without the Dales of the world. Is the Internet my only contact with humans? No. I could get by without it. It would be difficult, but it seems like even America managed to scrimmage around for a couple hundred years without it. I remember looking at Prodigy on my friend Maggie's computer in the late 80s and thinking, "this is the dumbest shit I've ever seen. Why sit in a room by yourself, talking to people you'll never meet?" And tonight, I'm sitting at my parents' little computer desk with a borrowed laptop (thanks Katrina!) in front of their temporarily useless monitor, pecking out a little blog that probably nobody outside of my social circle reads because if I didn't- well, I don't know what would happen, but I prefer not to find out.
It's an unequal relationship I have with the Internet. But it is a commitment, and that's a good first step.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
paper or plastic?
More and more I have been considering my actions and the effect they have on the environment. I was big into environmental issues when it was fashionable in the late 80s- all about saving whales and rain forests and that jazz. Some habits stuck- I still turn off the water while brushing my teeth. Other habits gave way to convenience or finances or just a general lack of awareness.
But over time, I returned to giving notice, in no small part due to the resurgence in popularity of environmentalism. I have reusable grocery bags (and then run out of poo bags for my dog). I recycle everything the city will take away, and bring batteries and other hazardous recyclables to the appropriate drop-off. I try to be fuel-efficient. Even small things, like declining a paper receipt or mailed bank statements have become routine.
I appreciate things of an organic nature. I'm trying more and more to get local and organic food (if and when I can afford it). In an odd way, I feel like everything that is synthetic is just plastic. To me, there is no essential difference between Twinkies and Tupperware- and I figure you could break all of it down to something explosive and flammable at some point. I realize that this is inaccurate, but I'm not a chemist or physicist and I'm not even sure what branch of science this argument falls under. I'm okay with that. The gist is that I try to take care of the planet and show concern for it.
There is, however, an arena where I am unable to go paperless. As environmentally conscious as the Kindle may be (and as far as my chemistry knowledge goes, it could take x-rays for all I know), I can't let go of books. I need them. No matter how long I can be on this computer, I can't read the same thing for longer than 5 or 10 minutes. Oh, this article has a link I need to click to get to the next page? Hope there was nothing important, because I don't have the attention span for that. But a book. Oh, there is something beautiful and romantic and sentimental about a book. And I'm not reading beautiful, romantic, or sentimental books, in general. I read sports books and essayists and a lot of non-fiction. But I can't go anywhere without a book in my bag. I went to the library today with 3 or 4 books in mind that I wanted to check out. The online catalog was down (and of course, no real card catalog... damn technology), so a librarian checked their backup system for my books- none of which were available. So, none of those books were there, and I couldn't really look up anything else. I wandered around for a bit, checking out the new books section and the library's recent "popular items" section. A recap:
1. They did not have any of the 3-4 books I went to get.
2. The card catalog was down, so I couldn't search the locations of any books.
3. I browsed probably a total of 10-12 sets of shelves between the two sections.
I left with 11 books, including Twain, MLK, Tim Gunn, and Perez Hilton.
I'm going to go plant a few trees now.
But over time, I returned to giving notice, in no small part due to the resurgence in popularity of environmentalism. I have reusable grocery bags (and then run out of poo bags for my dog). I recycle everything the city will take away, and bring batteries and other hazardous recyclables to the appropriate drop-off. I try to be fuel-efficient. Even small things, like declining a paper receipt or mailed bank statements have become routine.
I appreciate things of an organic nature. I'm trying more and more to get local and organic food (if and when I can afford it). In an odd way, I feel like everything that is synthetic is just plastic. To me, there is no essential difference between Twinkies and Tupperware- and I figure you could break all of it down to something explosive and flammable at some point. I realize that this is inaccurate, but I'm not a chemist or physicist and I'm not even sure what branch of science this argument falls under. I'm okay with that. The gist is that I try to take care of the planet and show concern for it.
There is, however, an arena where I am unable to go paperless. As environmentally conscious as the Kindle may be (and as far as my chemistry knowledge goes, it could take x-rays for all I know), I can't let go of books. I need them. No matter how long I can be on this computer, I can't read the same thing for longer than 5 or 10 minutes. Oh, this article has a link I need to click to get to the next page? Hope there was nothing important, because I don't have the attention span for that. But a book. Oh, there is something beautiful and romantic and sentimental about a book. And I'm not reading beautiful, romantic, or sentimental books, in general. I read sports books and essayists and a lot of non-fiction. But I can't go anywhere without a book in my bag. I went to the library today with 3 or 4 books in mind that I wanted to check out. The online catalog was down (and of course, no real card catalog... damn technology), so a librarian checked their backup system for my books- none of which were available. So, none of those books were there, and I couldn't really look up anything else. I wandered around for a bit, checking out the new books section and the library's recent "popular items" section. A recap:
1. They did not have any of the 3-4 books I went to get.
2. The card catalog was down, so I couldn't search the locations of any books.
3. I browsed probably a total of 10-12 sets of shelves between the two sections.
I left with 11 books, including Twain, MLK, Tim Gunn, and Perez Hilton.
I'm going to go plant a few trees now.
Monday, September 7, 2009
wheel of fortune
It started innocently enough. Back in 1938, 40 years before I was born, a show came on the television called Spelling Bee. It was the very first television game show. Like the Colorado River making the Grand Canyon, that first game show resulted in an entire cable network devoted to game shows, past and present.
Not only do game shows keep appearing (and reappearing- thanks a lot, Howie Mandel), but at some point, a television producer realized that people loved when the contestants were bat-shit crazy. The more emotional and out-of-control the contestant, the more the viewers watched. It wasn't just being able to guess prices or answer trivia or avoid whammies. It was people acting a fool at the chance to win a freezer and a mid-sized sedan. Reality television was conceived.
Reality television preys on the unstable, who sign up to participate, and the schadenfreudeian nature of humans to take pleasure in the suffering of others to account for viewers. What began with things like American Idol became Survivor and then Rock of Love and so on. There is now a cable channel devoted to reality shows. There is a show where someone is locked in a room by themselves to see how long they can last. That's it. No other premise than trying to drive someone insane.
There is a reason why reality television is so popular, and it's not because viewers like it. They do like it, but they also liked Seinfeld and Cheers and The Simpsons plenty of other scripted shows. The main reason is they are moneymakers. Major moneymakers. It's all economics.
On a scripted show, the producers have to pay writers and actors in addition to the stage crew. Writers and actors who belong to unions and guilds. Writers and actors who, if the show is successful, will be there for years, getting raises and new contracts.
On a reality show, they throw out about a million dollars in prizes (money, goods, contracts, whatever). They spend more than that on lawyers who can make sure every contract is ironclad. The insurance takes up some cash, but it still doesn't compare to the total for a scripted show. And these shows are getting a LOT of advertising money. Some finales are scoring ad revenue that only the Super Bowl can dwarf. People watch, they vote, they go online and discuss. American Idol takes in ad revenue, and then shows those kids around the country while selling tickets and merchandise that would make Miley Cyrus green with envy.
I don't really watch reality shows (does Iron Chef count? what about House Hunters?). I don't really watch scripted shows either. Some HGTV and Food Network, Daily Show and Colbert, and sports. I'd always prefer to live life than watch it. I have cable, but not DVR, and the idea of having to be home to watch something instead of spending time with friends.
I guess you'd say I prefer reality.
Not only do game shows keep appearing (and reappearing- thanks a lot, Howie Mandel), but at some point, a television producer realized that people loved when the contestants were bat-shit crazy. The more emotional and out-of-control the contestant, the more the viewers watched. It wasn't just being able to guess prices or answer trivia or avoid whammies. It was people acting a fool at the chance to win a freezer and a mid-sized sedan. Reality television was conceived.
Reality television preys on the unstable, who sign up to participate, and the schadenfreudeian nature of humans to take pleasure in the suffering of others to account for viewers. What began with things like American Idol became Survivor and then Rock of Love and so on. There is now a cable channel devoted to reality shows. There is a show where someone is locked in a room by themselves to see how long they can last. That's it. No other premise than trying to drive someone insane.
There is a reason why reality television is so popular, and it's not because viewers like it. They do like it, but they also liked Seinfeld and Cheers and The Simpsons plenty of other scripted shows. The main reason is they are moneymakers. Major moneymakers. It's all economics.
On a scripted show, the producers have to pay writers and actors in addition to the stage crew. Writers and actors who belong to unions and guilds. Writers and actors who, if the show is successful, will be there for years, getting raises and new contracts.
On a reality show, they throw out about a million dollars in prizes (money, goods, contracts, whatever). They spend more than that on lawyers who can make sure every contract is ironclad. The insurance takes up some cash, but it still doesn't compare to the total for a scripted show. And these shows are getting a LOT of advertising money. Some finales are scoring ad revenue that only the Super Bowl can dwarf. People watch, they vote, they go online and discuss. American Idol takes in ad revenue, and then shows those kids around the country while selling tickets and merchandise that would make Miley Cyrus green with envy.
I don't really watch reality shows (does Iron Chef count? what about House Hunters?). I don't really watch scripted shows either. Some HGTV and Food Network, Daily Show and Colbert, and sports. I'd always prefer to live life than watch it. I have cable, but not DVR, and the idea of having to be home to watch something instead of spending time with friends.
I guess you'd say I prefer reality.
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