Attack of the "Were-Nerd", and Something About a Velociraptor

Alright...ready...set....

BLOG!!

Baawepoirufhasdjfnsdkjf fjapsdio nfasdkdop sdkfjapsdoifja kfjapsoidfj;alskdjajsdf.   Gpasdoifjasdckjasjdpfi!

See you guys next month/week/year!

"Whoa whoa whoa...wait a minute."

Who are you?

"Blogging commissioner."

Oh.  Wait, seriously?

"Yes.  And according to the laws of Blogger, this isn't a full sized, regulation post.  You keep this up, we'll shut you down, and wind up in blogger jail."

Alright, that's preposterous.  There's no such thing --

"--As blogger jail?  Of course there is. Don't be silly.  See these blogging cuffs?  And this blogging billy club?"

Those look like a normal pair of cuffs and a normal billy club.

"They are.  Except they take you to blogger jail."

Okay, okay.  Fine.  I'll do this post for real.  No cutting corners in an effort to save time.  But only because you're annoying, and not because I fear any sort of  "blogger jail".

Hello everyone!  Long time no post.  Again.  My fault as usual.  See, I'm terrible at proratizing.  Thus, I end up devoting my time to things that are not the blog or running or really anything of great consequence.  There's a reason for that, though.  There's a reason I've been reading the same book for over a month when I should have finished it weeks ago.  That reason, aside from the inclination that I may have always had ADD, is I've been spending  a lot more time playing video games.  It's been a long time since I've seriously played video games, and I'm at it again.  Losing myself in game fantasy land and, as a result, losing my time. 

See, I was pretty sure I got over video games.  I continued to own and every so often play my Super Nintendo.  Once every couple months I'll play the Playstation 2 my dad bought five years ago and gave up on playing.  But mostly, I spent my time in other things: Work, reading, running, hanging out with friends, etc.  I became an adult.  A balanced, human adult.

Incorrect.  Below the layers, I am, and will always be, a nerd (and/or child).  The time just has to be right to strike.  First, it started with me buying Half-Life 2 online for my laptop.  I haven't really played games on my laptop.  Given, a few hours will be lost to Plants vs. Zombies (I freakin' love that game).  Mostly, I wanted the laptop for internet, music, upload photos and videos, and maybe write.  Didn't care much if it was a gaming machine.  But ever since Half-Life 2, I've been losing hours of time.  Sometimes I forget what day it is.

Now, for Christmas, my parents decided we each get a little bit of money and buy ourselves something.  My father, a few pedals for his guitar and a pedal board.  My mother, one of the Rosetta Stone programs.  Myself...an Xbox 360 bundle including Fable III, Halo Reach, three months of Xbox Live free, and a $60 gift card for Gamestop (Which I've used to purchase Batman Arkham City).  Of the litenany of things I could have bought, I bought a new video game system.  I've already spent many hours running around as Batman.

So, to answer your question (the long way) of "Where has Michael been?": Being Batman.  And shooting aliends in Half-Life 2.

But, how can you blame me? The graphics look beautiful!  These new games are mind numbingly awesome!  And I remember when Nintendo 64 was cutting edge.  Now it just looks like a bunch of blocks.

Now, to bring you up to speed.  Quickly.

I turned 25 finally last Thursday.  Which reminds me...Aunt Pegge?  Thank you for the card.  I loved it.  And don't fret about it's tardiness.  I do believe that I am LONG overdue on a response to a letter.  If I could just simply sit my butt down and get to it.  Obviously, I'm distracted by less important things.  It is coming though.

Also, Chalice Press (you know, the place with the window?) has decided it's within their budget to keep me on for another six months as a temporary employee.  I'm still part time, but they've bumped up the pay a bit.  Great news to hear, and with that bit of news I decided I don't need Teavana.  I still won't be making much money at Chalice, but I decided Teavana is no longer a place I need to be.  It's like Azkaban there.  You wind up there, and you're kinda stuck there.  Or at least I felt stuck, and working retail in a mall is kinda soul sucking.  Especially this time of year.  Basically, I can no longer justify being there.  If I don't plan to move up the corporate rock wall within Teavana, then I should probably stop wasting everyone's time (myself included) and find something worth while.  Time to move on, move forward.  Figure it out.  Hopefully.

I think that's what you've missed.  You should all be in the know now. 

I trust everyone had a spectacular Christmas.  New Year's is coming up, and I hope everyone has a great one.  Also, the blog is turning two in a couple days, if I'm correct.  He'll be saying "no" and running around pulling things off tables in no time.

Take care, lovely talking with you.  Keep in touch.  Newcomers, continue reading the blog.  I plan on not disappointing.  Except for the Velociraptor.  I totally got everyone on that one.  That was just to insure everyone would read this. Ha.

Peace.

Lovely Dark and Deep: Vibram Five-Fingers and My Quest Through Nature

Well, I developed this great habit about two months ago of posting once a week.  For awhile it was working, which you can all attest to.  Yet, I miss one week and then before I know it 29 days fly by and no post by me.  Please, resist the urge to be angry.  I know it may have been a bit lonely, but there's millions of blogs and even that Meetup site where you can get a group together to do anything you all agree on.  Like doubles tennis.  Pottery.  Flea market shopping.  Blog reading.  The possibilities are certainly endless.
Right, it's been four weeks and there is more than likely some catching up to do.  The question is, where to begin? We'll begin where I would like to begin.  Two Tuesdays ago.

On second thought, we'll begin in another spot. There's a bit of a preface for the two Tuesdays ago affair, so bear with me as usual.  Rest assured, there will be plenty to be beared.

Back in August I finally got my money together and made my way to the nearest REI so I could throw down a few bills on a pair of those sweet Vibram Five-Finger shoes.  The endevour was a borderline success.  They had them of course.  They had a lot of them.  Yet, they didn't have a pair that would fit right for my little man feet.  But, the clerk said he could order a pair of tiny midget Vibrams and ship them in a little box to my house.  I agreed, gladly paid for the shoes there, and was duped into their membership (Twenty bucks a year.  But seriously, it seems like a really good deal.  I've only bought one thing from them since, though).  A week later they came.  My parents got to the box first and my mother thought perhaps one of her sisters had ordered a pair for her (apparently they were talking about these shoes the last time my mom visited them).  Apparently they were too small for her feet (and she's got tiny feet.  What on earth does that say about me?).  My parents were about to send them back to REI chalking it up as a mistake. At this point I still have no clue that these have even arrived yet.  I'm waiting patiently each day for my Vibrams so I can frolic gracefully through the forest like a deer.  Finally, one day my mom calls from work and asks if I bought Vibram shoes.  "Yes, and I've been waiting for about a week and a half for them."  And so the mystery comes to an end.  My parents didn't think I would buy them, let alone put up the money to buy them (they were $95) which was why they didn't ask immediately if I had ordered them.   But I did.  I got them.  Now it was time to try 'em.

They were snug at first.  VERY snug.  See, your toes (at least my toes) are used to hanging out in one big room.  The five of them are always together, hanging out and talking.  "It's dark and stuffy in here, but at least we have each other."  Then I slap these things on and they had a rather difficult time going into their separate compartments.  Pinky-toe wouldn't leave his compadre, Ring-finger-toe.  Tried to slide in the same compartment.  That may have been the hardest part, getting them to be independent.  But they did it.  And I'm proud of them for it (although Little Pinky-toe still has some issues).

Alright.  I have the Vibrams.  They're snug.  Not a lot of wiggle room.  It's as if I put on new skin but the skin has yet to stretch itself and become less tight and more malleable.  The only way to do this is to take them out.

First excursion was on my Schwinn mountain bike.  I took it out to a park I've been many times before.  It's about a 20 minute ride from the house and has a pretty flat paved trail.  That was a pretty fun day, and really it's a whole story in and of itself, which I will keep myself from telling here.  Let's just say, this trail is also by the Meramec river, there was some unexpected mud, and I haven't cleaned or ridden the bike since.

Next excursion came a few weeks later.  This involved an actual run.  There's another park near the house about the same distance called Cliff Cave Park (another park near the river, except this river is the Mississippi.  During the spring and sometimes early summer the paved trail can get covered with quite a bit of mud and giant puddles).  I come to this place often when I want to run outside.  It has a 5.1 mile loop but there's only a little bit of tree cover on the trail, so I generally avoid it mid summer.  Spring and fall are the best times to get a run on it.  Anyway, I get the Vibrams on, grab a bottle of Propel and drive over to the park. 

Now, the cool thing about the Vibrams (at least this is what I read) is that instead of hitting heel toe you're running on the balls of your feet.  This gives less impact on the hips and knees, which is better for you in the long run (ha).  Also, since you're running this way you're not throwing your leg forward, therefore, not hyperextending your leg.  The guy at REI told me that one.  Basically, it's the closest you can be to being barefoot.  You just have a thin sole of rubber to protect your skin (since we don't walk barefoot anymore like our ancestors and have major calouses and hardened skin on our feet). 

With all that said, I ran on the balls of my feet, which gave my calves a work out.  Now, the first time you run in these you're really not supposed to run more than a mile or two.  I ran about four.  Let me tell you, my calves were killing me.  I walked like C-3PO for three days.

Now, with that large and unnecessary preface, prologue thing finished, we can talk about two weeks ago.

I found this trail near a park called "Lone Elk Park"  which is about a twenty minute drive from my house.  It's west from the city on highway 44, so by the time you get that far there's more trees than buildings.  Which is nice.  I ran on this trail, and let me tell you it was a beast.  First off, its about 7 miles one way (I didn't run that far).  I ran a good portion of it though, even did some exploring to take in the scenery.  It was a beautiful day.  Temperature was just right.  Hardly any people (Well, at first.  Only saw one person going in.  Coming back I saw about nine).  The terrain ranges from gravel, to rocky, to smooth dirt paths, so it's great either on foot or mountain bike (which I did see a few mountain bikers).  Much of what I was on was flat, but the trail does move in and out of wooded areas, and one portion has a very steep rocky trail, which is where I saw the mountain bikers.  I don't know if could ever conquer terrain like that on foot, let alone bike. 

Now, the only downfall to this trail is that its near a horse stable.  The terrain is great for foot or bike, but there's also a nice serene area to ride horseback, which I saw a girl doing when I was making my way back.  The reason this is the only con to the whole trail is that you have to avoid a lot of horse poop.  And I do mean a lot.  I guess it provides for an extra challenge while running.  It demands a little more of your reflexes.

Once again though, I over did it.  My feet were a little sore when the day was over.  But the next few days I was walking like C-3PO again.  Doesn't matter though.  It was worth it.  Maybe I could document the trail another time.  I thought about it as I ran; "I should really take pictures of this place and make a blog post."  I blogged (of course), but no photos.  Maybe next time.

Wow.  I wrote a lot.  Sorry.  I didn't even get to Thanksgiving.  Well, I ate a lot and watched the end of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory on ABC Family.  I did some other things, but nothing involving my body getting worked over.  Unless you want to count digestion.  And there was a lot of that.  So, I believe that wraps up November.  My birthday is coming up in three weeks and Christmas is three days after that, so keep gifts in mind. 

Take care.  Follow your dreams.  Be merry.  Peace.

Time Travel at Normal Speed.

Well, I don't know what brought you to do it, but you wound up back here.  I appreciate it.  It makes me think, "Oh man, I am really cool and some people think I'm both funny and a genius."  Some people in this life don't really get to feel that way.  Unless he/she is really pretentious and in love with him/herself.  Which, the case still may be that deep down inside he/she actually feels inadequate and needs to make up for that by pretending to be funny and a genius.  I don't know.  I'm not a psychologist.

I'm not a lot of things.  Have you figured that one out yet?  Right, of course you have.  Right now I'm a guy in his fuzzy pajama-jam pants and t-shirt, drinking Sakura Allure green tea (one of the new installments to the Teavana selection), and listening to Dredg's "The Pariah, The Parrot, The Delusion".  Comfy day after Halloween.

Unsure of what to post this week, but I had a few ideas.  Let's roll with one of them.

Now, as some of you may or may not know, I was once a fat kid.  That thing to the left?  Fat kid.  Fourteen years old.  Spring of eighth grade, 2001.  As you can tell, I wasn't really socially conscious, either, which didn't really help my weak, adolescent self-esteem, which I can go more in depth on another time with both funny and scarring anecdotes.  And my looks?  I don't even think the 90's would've allowed it (and they did allow a lot).  First of all, I'm wearing a ridiculous early 90's Hawaiian shirt ("But Michael, how do you know it's from the early 90's?" "Because It was once my father's and he got it when we went to Hawaii in 1991.  I wore it back then because I thought Hawaiian shirts were 'in'").  I also had quite the bowl cut for many years.  Glance over to exhibit B.

                                         Exhibit B.
(The only way you can make this cuter is if you were to staple new born kittens to this child.)

Yeah, ever since I was a tot I was graced with a golden bowl atop my crown.  And pinchable cheeks.  Which, however you look at it, could be a blessing, or something you wish you could do away with altogether so that people wouldn't think your six years younger than you are (See "How I Spend My October" for an in depth explanation). 

The point of all of this being is that, yesterday morning, at about 7 am Central Standard Time, I registered myself for the GO! St. Louis Marathon, something I've been anticipating to accomplish for about a year.  Now, as you may remember, loyal followers, I did mention in "Going the Extra Mile" that this is one of my life goals.  After I realized a year ago that I can run more than a couple miles at one time, I figured I could continue to add on the miles.  A marathon will just be a very drawn out, two mile run.  I'm excited, but mostly terrified.  I may or may not die.  This may be the last thing I accomplish in life.  If this is so, speak with Phillip Freeman.  He knows best on how to prepare my funeral.  There will be a cake and everything.

But in all seriousness, I'm really excited about training and actually going through with it.  A lot of the things I actually accomplished in my life that were notable I was pressured into doing.  Maybe pressured isn't the right word, but I was coaxed to accomplish certain goals that weren't necessarily completely my own.  This goal, though, is mine.  No one told me to do it.  I'm completely choosing to do it, and the reward from that feels even more special.  Then again, perhaps that smiling fat kid in picture one is actually telling me to do it.  "You've got this far.  You've rearranged yourself so that you'll never be this again.  Keep going.  Keep growing."  He probably doesn't care.  If he were here to speak with me he would ask, "Sooo...do you get a lot of girls now?"  I would then sit him down and fill him in on a lot of things.  Not just girls, but his future and my past in general.  But mostly about women.  I need to prepare him for the things that are about to happen to him.

Now, you take all of what I said, think about it for a half hour, then just forget about it and move on with life like you normally do.  But remember!  Be back here next week.  Surely there will be more luscious word gold to wade through.

Until then.

How I Spend My October: Thoughts on Wine, Fall, and Peter Weller

I would like to take this opportunity to properly apologize to Mr. Peter Weller in my post "Return of a Classic".  When listing other films he participated in I forgot to mention David Cronenberg's Naked Lunch.  Instead, in a frantic mess to think of a third film outside of the RoboCop franchise I listed Top of the World with Tia Carrere and Joe Pantilano.  Although I'm sure Top of the World is a great film (I caught maybe five minutes of it on a Wednesday afternoon on HBO) featuring actors that you remember from one other movie but that's about it, I myself would rather be known for a 1990's film adaptation to a book from the Beat era.  I know it doesn't matter.  But if Pete ever happens to read this (I really respect your work, Pete.  I even bothered to watch that History Channel special on French history you hosted.  Top notch work Mr. Weller) I want him to see and know that fans remember only the great films he's done, rather than the mediocre ones lost in the haze of the late 90's.  Then again, how many of us would want to be remembered for Buckaroo Bonzai (Maybe John Lithgow)?

On second thought, please don't read this, Pete.

I digress.

Welcome back to the blog.  Hope that everyone had a great week.  Mine went pretty well.  The weekend was very pleasant, given the fact that I had no obligation to work under the Tea Lords.  We had some great October weather here in St. Louis.  On Saturday, my long time friend and collegue, Matt Lewis, and I went with his parents out to Stone Hill winery in Herman, Missouri.  If you haven't been and have the means to go, I recommend it.  Herman is a pretty small town about a little over an hour west of St. Louis.  Very beautiful this time of year.  Lots of trees and hills.  Great place to stash your winery.  Anyway, took a tour of the wine cellar, which wasn't as expansive as I recall.  Yes, although this was my first time going to any winery since I've turned twenty-one, I did go with my parents once many years ago.  Probably when I was nine or ten.  All I remember was I played something like Wario World on my old gray brick Game Boy in the car on the way there and was pretty bored.  Watching your parents taste wine isn't the most fascinating thing in the world when your in elementary school.  But now, since I'm of age, the experience is worth the long car ride (Not much has changed, though.  I still played Game Boy, The Legend of  Zelda Ocarina of Time on my friend's 3DS, and he played on his Motorolla Xoom tablet). 

When we get there, we pay a couple bucks, Matt and I get our hands stamped with "21+" since we look like children and wait in the gift shop until it's time to take the tour.  We take it, get a little history about Stone Hill (Which I will not divulge in at the current moment.  I haven't the time nor patience right now).  Of course, at the end, we get to taste the wines.  We all gather round a circular bar thing, with two older people in the middle serving wines.  Now, they pull out the first wine and start pouring a little sample into each of our plastic cups.  The old guy pours for first Matt's parents, then Matt, then he gets to me and pours and says something like, "Are you even old enough to drink this?"

My first thought, "You've gotta be kidding me".

I show the guy my "21+" stamp.  Still, the old man is unrelenting, "Who stamped your hand?"  I pull out my wallet show my ID, the guy finally believes me, we all move on with life.  Matt believes he was trying to be funny.  I think I should have got into a brawl with him right there.  The odds were most certainly in my favor.

I've had to deal with this for years.  Even before I turned twenty-one.  When you're young, its frustrating because everyone who is young wants to be old.  And I've been told by older people when they see my frustration, "It'll come in handy when you're older.  You'll be old but still look young."  The usefulness of that fact cannot come any sooner.  The day I look like a twenty-one year old, it'll be great.  Then I'll stop my complaining.  Until then, I'd rather people not think I'm a teenager.

They had some really great wines.  I ended up buying a bottle of white wine called, "Vignoles".  Normally I would be more into the dry red wine, but none of the wine they sampled was really like that.  Even the reds were fairly sweet.  Even though it's somewhat uncharacteristic for me to like a pretty sweet white wine, this one was very good and had pineapple notes.  I love pineapple.  I was sold.  Matt on the other hand bought a bottle of the Cream Sherry, which in our opinion, had a similar taste to whiskey, without the "burns the whole way down" feeling.

After we bought our wine we decided to head back home.  All in all, a pretty enjoyable Saturday.  They are pretty hard to come by.  A typical Saturday would involve me zoning at Teavana for seven hours, but maybe we'll get into that another time.  At the moment, neither of us are truly interested in discussing it.

All right, I need to go do some other things today.  Particularly showering. 

Thanks for stopping by.  Hopefully we'll both be back soon.

More Universal Discussions

Currently listening to:                 Elliott Smith.  From a Basement on the Hill.

Remarkable album, really.  About a year ago I finally initiated my Elliott Smith fandom and purchased Roman Candle.  It's pretty bare bones as far as instrumentation, which makes for nice driving music.  The stuff he wrote at the end of his life is probably the best.  If you ever get around to it, listen to this album or Figure 8.  Not that I've been sent here by the record companies to convince you to up the sales of Elliott Smith albums.  That's not what it's about.  It's just fantastic music, and of course Youtube will have all of his songs.  Check it out, jam out.  Realize the sweet sound of Elliott and his heartfelt songwriting.

So it's the middle of the week.  The slow part here, and what that means for you is more random posts about life, the universe, and everything.

What if I had wrote, "...and everyfig"?  Would you have thought, "Geez, can't this guy review his own work to make sure it makes sense?  What a goober!" or would you have thought, "He is going to talk about every single fig.  Remarkable"?

It's been a long weekend, readers, but rewarding in some respects.  On Thursday nights I get together with a group from church to have dinner and Bible study.  It's called Pulse and mainly consists of twenty-something graduates who are now making it as young professionals in the world.  Every so often we get together to do some outreach and this last Saturday we went to a little park off of Locust and 14th to cook and serve breakfast to the homeless who live around there.  Although getting up at 4:30 am to get ready and make it there by 6 is not my favorite thing, seeing people getting loved and fed is well worth it.  We had over a hundred people come to line up and eat the fresh bacon and eggs we grilled right there on little camper grills.  We also cut up some fruit and handed out juice and water.  It's wonderful to see their joy and to know that this is exactly what Christ was doing all those years ago: serving those who are left to the side and forgotten and making them feel they are worth the time and work.

Rest of the weekend consisted of a lot of Teavana.  Which is always a lovely experience.  There I'm serving a different sort of people, people with money with my goal being to help them drop some more money.  Gotta love retail.

We do have some new tea stuff, which I guess is cool.  I'm not going to buy it.  Except for "Slimful Chocolate Decadence" oolong tea.  I hate the name, but the tea is so good.  They should call it, "Mounds Bar Tea".  "Slimful Chocolate Decadence" is a name you give some food product women would eat (No misogynist).  Seriously though, first it has the word, "Slimful".  Already, it's saying, "Hey, you there!  You fat?  Feel fat?  You won't after this!" Next it has chocolate.  We all know that chocolate is catnip for women.  Finally, "Decadence".  That sounds like, "Oooh, your doing something your not supposed to (but enjoying it), but it's okay because we preceded this entire statement with 'Slimful'".   My mom bought cereal last week.  She bought "Special K Granola".  I'm already confused about my masculinity due to the foods I'm eating.

Dear Teavana,
Stop selling to just women on this one and call "Slimful Chocolate Decadence" "Mounds Bar Fun".  Everyone loves fun.  Name someone who does not love fun.  Okay, that person sucks, name someone else.  Good.  Copyright infringement with "Mounds Bar" from Mars Bar company?  Fine.  Call it, "Tropical Chocolate Mountain Race".  See, I threw in race to slip in that, "You won't be fat if you drink this".  Genius.  Take care Tea Lords,

XOXO
Michael Lee

No more word on the elevators or bathroom stalls.  I let you know as further news breaks.

And I think we're done for the day.  Thanks for coming and hanging out.  See you about the same time next week.

My Window. Mine.

All right, so as all of my followers (you know who you are) know, I am working part time in an office at a publishing company.  I also mentioned the fact that, never in my working experience have I had the opportunity to have a window.  I've been caged up in many jobs (namely the call center and Teavana), but this is quite the break through.  Not only do I have my own little room in suite 670, but I also have a very large window which allows for a lot of natural light.  So I can sun on the window sill for about an hour in the morning like a lizard.  Anyway, here's a snapshot out of that window.

















Mostly just a nice view of construction at the moment.  To the right there's a little park.  There's some sort of strange steel orb atop the building at the top right.  I would like to know what that is for (Gladitorial cage matches?).   Anyway, I'm happy and thankful to have it.  Hopefully one day I'll be able to have an office for a salaried job.

Also, haunted floor number five strikes again (See, "Quick Catch-up in My Pajama-jams").  As my boss and I were leaving on Monday, the elevator stops right on floor five.  Doors open, but no one is there.  I will figure out this mystery...

(As well as the mystery of those stalls)

Have a great Wednesday.

Why Is It Called October? Does That Mean Eight "Bers"? What's a "Ber"?

I came home after work today to a weird smell.  It was everywhere in the house.  I knew it had to be coming from the kitchen, but even as I walked down the hallway toward my room the smell was still strong, clutching onto dear life to my nosehair-smell-receptors, or whatever you call those things that make the brain think it's smelling (I'm not a biologist.  Leave me alone).  Well, as it turns out, the smell was that of my father making deviled eggs, something I've never been into, and something he's made maybe three times since we've known one another (which is nearly 25 years).  That's when I think to myself, "Ah, that's why the entire house smells faintly of farts".  But not offensive farts mind you, like dainty farts, ones you can deal with for a little bit, but if they linger too long it becomes rather unpleasant.  These were hanging around for too long.  So I grabbed six sticks of incense.  So far I think I've made a big push in the smell war.  My room has a force field of incense, and when I went to the bathroom down the hall to throw some garbage away I noticed my incense smoke there too.  Success.

Hi everyone!  How's everyone's week so far?  You say it's only Monday?  You say it's Columbus Day?

....

COLUMBUS DAY???!!

My goodness, I nearly forgot!  I suppose there's still time to buy my Columbus Day gift (a nose hair trimmer, a bag of raisins, a copy of the Constitution, and hand sanitizer, wrapped neatly and placed in a hand made basket, then set on a stranger's doorstep).  Have the children already had their Columbus Day activities?  You know, "Bag the Raccoon"?  I remember some good times with "Bag the Raccoon".  Oh! And "Mayo Slosh".  Precious memories.

But seriously, I never really understood Columbus Day.  My parents were always off because it's always been some sort of "government holiday".  Preposterous.  Some Portugese, Spanish guy happened to show up in the Carribean and ruined the lives of millions of Native Americans for something like 400 years.  "Hey, white people, check out these weirdos!"  Dude didn't even show up in the States.  And school never gave us the day off.  All my life, never had Columbus day off.  My parents always did.  I realized this injustice at about ten.  I told my parents how insanely ridiculous the holiday is.  I mean, I don't even care what the stupid holiday means, just so long as I get to sleep in half the day and then play N64 for the rest of the day.  Fine by me.  That, good people, should be the true tradition of Columbus Day.

Columbus Day...You can go hang out with Groundhog Day, St. Patrick's Day, and Flag Day.  You dork.

Speaking of holidays, Halloween is coming up, and I do love Halloween.  You get to dress up as your favorite whatever (but don't dress as Bob Dylan.  Nobody will know or care who you are), the weather is fantastic, there's apple cider (actually fall should be known as, "The Great Apple Massacre".  Apple can't catch a break.  He's smashed repeatedly; he's juiced; he's baked into pies.  That in and of itself is horrifying.  We shouldn't worry about the beef industry, think about your dear pal Apple.  Literally, he's mutalated.  How many apples you peal this week?  I knew it.  But you didn't care, because Apple can't speak.  Apple CAN'T speak.), and most of all...there's terrible 80's horror movies on TV.

Now, let it be known 90's will always be my favorite decade (Tied with the 1960's), but the 80's do have some of the most ridiculous horror movies ever, making them quite possibly the best.  Evil Dead II, Day of the Dead, Return of the Living Dead, Nightmare on Elm Street, Critters, Child's Play, Re-Animator...the list goes on.  These movies are absolutely fantastic to watch, and coincidentaly enough, my Windows Media Player is on shuffle and just happened to turn on the Gorrilaz song with the Day of the Dead sound byte at the beginning ("M1A1").

Well, thanks for spending your time on the blog.  Appreciate the visit.  You're always welcome, no matter your race or nationality or sex (I'm not like that punk Columbus). 

Have a great week.  Peel an apple and pop in Gremlins for me. 

Return of a Classic

Did I mention that I'm pretty excited about the RoboCop remake? Because I am.

For those of you who do not understand, I'll start from the beginning. In the late 1980's there was a little sci-fi movie called RoboCop. It was a gritty tale of a Detroit City cop getting (quite literally) blown to bits by thugs during a bust. His name is Alex J. Murphy, played by the famous Peter Weller (Known for such classics as Buckaroo Bonzai, Screamers, and Top of the World). And since Mr. Murphy was blasted to pieces, the OCP corporation decides to go through with their new project. They take the remains of Alex Murphy and give him robot prosthetics and a partial robot brain. He has lost his humanity, becoming almost entirely machine.

Almost.

See, although he's mostly a robot, he still remembers. He remembers his wife, his son. And more importantly, his assailant. And what he finds later is that the thug who killed him is also in with the lead owner of OCP. It's up to RoboCop to bring down the thugs and the corporation, with his sweet hand gun that fits conveniently into his robo-leg and his finely tuned sense of justice.

Now, with that riveting description typed down for your review, I will explain that as a child I loved RoboCop. The movie was far too violent for a child, so I never really watched the movie. I had action figures, and there was a TV series which came much later. Only in the last four years did I purchase and actually watch RoboCop in it's entirety. Best use of two hours.

As you may already know, there were many fine science fiction movies in the 1980's. There was Aliens with Sigourney Weaver, Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, The Thing featuring the alpha man Kurt Russell (Did you know that they're remaking that? Preposterous), The Terminator, and handful of others. But nothing compares to RoboCop. Nothing.

How far along they are into this remake, I haven't a clue. I hope it's soon. After the sequels RoboCop 2 and RoboCop 3, and a few short lived TV shows, I believe that the name of RoboCop was ruined. The image, the franchise, was mocked and should have been sealed up tight and remembered for what was, and who RoboCop was, right there in 1987.

But RoboCop is being given another chance. Another chance to blow creeps away. Another chance to use his robo-wit, robo-reflexes, and robo-charm. José Padilha, don't fail me now.

That's it today. Seriously, I know. Next time I'll whip up something intellectual. Or you can send your topics via email at canyon.behind.her@gmail.com. I may or may not get to your topic, but since no one else will send one, yours will probably be chosen to be on Revenge of the Living Blog. I may even mention your name.

Also, you can follow me on the wonderful world of Twitter. Yes that's right. You can follow me @nehemiah810. If you do, you'll see topical tweets like:

"I wish everything could smell like this cake I'm eating."

"Not much for divination, but Phil prophesied about my future wife. She's in Portland and she might be asian."

"Just saw a Propel commercial with Cindy Crawford. Glad to see she's still getting work."

"Important announcement: Good Burger is on ABC Family. That is all."

"Made it through security. Security lady was impressed I have my SNES."

"I finally had that dream last night where I'm about to go on stage to play bass and I'm in my underwear. It was less awkward in the dream."

So follow me, and attain all the rich juice of my life. Because it's there. You just have to have a keen mind to really absorb it and appreciate it.

Alright. Seriously. I'm gone.

Quick Catch-up in My Pajama-jams

Tuesday mornings are pretty slow here at "Revenge of the Living Blog".  And that's why I'm posting.

I spoke to some other people, researched the data, and turns out that owning an Audrey Hepburn fleece blanket would be far too weird even for me.  I should understand that she is no longer with us, and no amount of memorabilia will ever bring her soul back into existence.

Also fellow blog viewers (I do believe you know who you are), I have yet to find a typewriter packaged and addressed to me sitting on my doorstep.  I thought that talking endlessly about it would somehow guilt trip someone into shipping me an old busted typewriter (it must still work though, or else I'm sending it back).  Apparently my sly attempt at getting something free wasn't very sly at all and goes to show that none of you are loyal fans.  Now go read a blog about mexican food or the Obama adminstration.  I'm obviously not topical enough to peak your interest, or subconsciously manipulate you into buying things for me. 

The new job is going very well, although  I've noticed some rather strange things about the building, such as the doors of two of the four stalls in the men's bathroom on the sixth floor remain perpetually closed (clearly transportation units to the Ministry of Magic)  and a few times while riding the elevator, the elevator doors will open on a floor between the sixth and the first and no one is there to board the elevator.  Yesterday the doors opened on the fifth floor.  There were only a few lights and a very dark hallway straight ahead.  Oh, and some sort of large blue recylcing bin.  But there was absolutely no people.  So the doors stood open for a very long time, then slowly shut, and I continued my journey down to the ground floor.  What I'm hitting at here is that, the building is clearly haunted (and a medium for Wizards and Witches to travel).

...

Sorry, I completely zoned out there and watched four youtube videos.  It's like college all over again.

That's all I have today.  Please, feel free to send questions, comments, and concerns (and typewriters) to canyon.behind.her@gmail.com.  I might get to them (Unless it's the typewriter.  I'll immediately get to that.  But you'll need to ask for my address first).

Have a good Tuesday.

Never Too Late To Buy Your Favorite Blogger Birthday Gifts

Today I was walking through St. Louis' ever famous "South County Mall" with a dear friend of mine, Kyle Richter.  As we're walking, we pass Spencer's Gifts.  In the window they had a fair selection of fleece blankets, which I'm a big fan of (Which reminds me, winter is on it's merry freaking way and I have to start to prepare for the attack [Dry lips, dry knuckles, involuntary shaking].  Fleece is always a fine thing to have in the armory when winter comes [and flannel]).  As we pass the window I do a double take, noticing a now very familiar face.  Apparently some human being had the brilliant idea of putting Audrey Hepburn's face on a fleece blanket.  I nearly bought it.  Then I thought, "Oh man, am I a weirdo?  I mean, it's not like it's a towel.  And Audrey was a wholesome enough person.  But yet, I do have this very strange obsession with her, wanting ever so much to develop a time machine in order to go back and woo her and fool her into marrying me.  I may even be a weirdo for even thinking this.  I need to seek help".  But I didn't and don't plan to.  I'm comfortable with my fake love relationship with Audrey Hepburn.  For the most part.  Look, don't judge me.  Everybody has got their, "person".  Even you.  You know, that one famous person you've dreamed of being married to, except, mine's been dead for almost twenty years. 

All right.  Maybe a fleece blanket would be a little weird...

BUT...whoever buys me that and a typewriter gets best friend privilages (Yes, my respect is conditional).  I have a birthday in three months.  Plenty of time to buy me, if nothing else, the blanket.  It's going to be a cold winter, and only Audrey's warm, fleecy smile will get me through it. 

Now, with all that said, we can move on to things with more bearing on life.

As I've already stated in a previous post, I will start working (officially) part-time at Chalice Press.  Before I was working in the printer room.  But now I have my own little office!  With a window!  I've never had a window before.  I get to look at birds. 

Now, the office was originally someone else's before I got there, but she's no longer there.  She left as of a year and half ago, but the weird part is, near as I can tell, it has been untouched ever since.  For me, it's a little errie.  It's almost like when a relative dies, and then you go over to the house to visit relatives, and the only room they have for you is the dead realtive's room.  And you have to sleep in it.  And it has been left as is since they passed.  Even the scary porcelain clown doll collection. 

Okay, it's not quite that unnerving.  You're absolutely right.  But still, there is something ever so slightly unnerving about it.  Like, she had to get out of there so fast she didn't have time to take her stuff.  I'd like to know she's in a better place.  And that she won't mind me playing with her thumbtacks.

That's enough for today.  Off to brush teeth and get cozy in my bed.  That could always be cozier (Wink [you know what I mean]).  Happy September 19th to you all.

Good Ideas

I'm eating Dunkaroos.  Yes, the little snack that was unhealthy and packed with deadly sugar but you still loved as a child.  Or at least I did.  Enough to become fat (more on that later).  A friend of mine found them and bought a box for me to indulge.  To her I could not be more grateful.  Mostly to have another opportunity to live in the 90's again.  Which, by the way, reminds me of the great thing Teen Nick has decided to do.  In an effort to, I suppose, just give up on making any new material, they brought back the classics of 90's nick.  Which is fine by me for two reasons:

1).  90's Nick made life okay.  It brought me up into the wholesome human being I am today (along with probably a few other things).
2).  The stuff they were showing on there before they got the bright idea of replaying old shows in their 11pm-1am time slot was trash.  Sorry.

I don't blame you, Teen Nick.  I do not blame you.  So, to that, I give the head nod of appreciation.  It's the highest form of flattery from me.  You should consider yourselves geniuses for the decision you've made and retire somewhere nice.  Some place with palm trees.  That's just my preference.  I'm sure you've got some good ideas.

All right.  With all of that said and put behind us, we can get to the sweet juice of this post that I've been grinding in my mind all day. 

Pour.

Honestly, though, I really don't have a whole lot to report.  Some cool news that just went down today is that the intership I've been doing at Chalice Press will now become a part time gig with pay.  I'm darn excited.  So, I'll be serving not only the tea lords but also the publishing world.  Hopefully soon it will all lead to something else...like me living in Portland.  It's the next logical step.  Become the west coast beat poet I've dreamed of turning into.  Do hipster things.  Eat organic food.  Wear "vintage" clothes.  Make friends with hip musicians in indie bands with names like, "Collin" and "Tanya".  Yeah man, this whole publishing thing is sure to open some doors to let out my inner yuppie.

Interjection:  I'm wearing some sweet fuzzy pj pants.  They're no match to my Tyrannosaurus Rex/Jurassic Park pjs I had when I was but a tot, but they are stinking comfortable.  I have had them for nearly a year.  I suppose there could have been a better time to mention them in the past, but now you know I have some extremely comfortable pajama-jam pants.  I recommend investing in some.  And if I ever owned a business, fuzzy pajama pants would be mandatory.

"Look Earl, I know it's your first day, but khaki slacks?  Come on, man, chill out.  Throw on these fuzzy pajama pants.  Yes they're clean, smell them.  Yeah, Snuggles soft with a hint of mountain breeze scent.  Now you're ready to get 'em, tiger.  Go out there and power point the pants off them.  But not their pajama pants.  Their metaphoric pants.  We want to keep these people comfortable."

Either that, or we all wear kimonos.  Kimonos and fuzzy pajama pants.  Wow, that's fantastic.  You know you want to work for me now.  Too bad, you have to apply first.  Then there's this thing we do with new folk who want a job: Interview.  And after that is the survival test.  I open the trap door, you land in the room with the t-rex with bear arms and a shark tail that breathes fire.  If you outwit it, we may give you a call back.

Cool.  Well, I'm going to bed.  No, you can't come.  That's  really weird.  Plus Mike Lee is his own man and likes to flail and roll about in his bed.  He needs all the room for his unpredictable sleep movements. 

Take care, take care, take care.  See (or write) you somewhere on the other side.

Summa Time

Well, I'm back from an incredibly busy summer.  Busy, busy, busy.  Nothing but things to do, people to see, and universes to save.  I'm wiped out.

All right.  That first part was a lie.  I've done (for the most part) nothing.  Things I've done this summer:

1.) Finished the Harry Potter books
2.) Worked
3.) Started a bit of an internship at a Christian publishing office (unpaid)
4.) Saw Incubus live (finally)
5.) Went on a float trip down the drunken river of destruction (Yes, that is an exaggeration.  But did you know that there are more drunk people in southern Missouri than sober people?  It's insane.)

That's about it for the high points.  Pretty slow summer (first in awhile).  Now the weather is finally beginning to settle down so that autum can be given a proper welcome.  We do welcome you autum.  You're very beautiful and we wish nothing for the best while you're here, but I can't help but think about winter slowly walking behind you, brining the cold and plans to wipe out what beauty you've dressed the world with.  These days are in fact getting shorter as well.  Too soon, I say.  2011, you've hardly had time to really sit and speak.  You've been pacing the room, looking at your watch, and kicking back drinks, anticipating only to leave us.  You were rather quiet.  I hope only to make small talk before it's time for you to leave.  Create a couple memories.  Take a photograph.  Post it on Facebook.  If you'll only grant us that much.

Just to keep my loyal fans in the know,  I've been thinking of making another blog.  One with a bit more "focus".  This is just a scatterbrained mess that I keep around to help prevent writer atrophy (has it helped?).  I've thought about a blog of mini-stories (shorter than short stories) or a blog based around tea, or some other thing I'm obsessed with (Time Travel, Audrey Hepburn, etc. etc.).  So if there is ever a day when this blog "vanishes" or mutates into some altogether different, you'll know the reason.  But until I buckle down and decide what to do, you can read this to your leisure.  And I'll continue to write throw away material every couple of months.

Recently I've been considering buying a typewriter.  My mom used to have one that I used in my amatuer writing days.  Ah, fine days those were.  I started out as a horror writer.  You know, Steven King stuff.  I was only about 9 at the time, but I wrote some really creepy stuff.  Short, disturbing stories with titles like, "The Poltergeist" and "The Gremlins".  Then about seventh grade I moved to sci-fi.  I began a novel called "Sight From the Eagle's Eye".  Wrote it at night during the summer of 2000 by hand on sheets of notebook paper.  I got to about chapter four and then quit.  It's lost foever now.

Tangent.

Anyway, my point being, I want a typewriter and I want it to be rather small.  Travel sized if possible.  Something Kerouac or Ginsberg would have toted around.   So, just donate to my typewriter fund, or send me the old typewriter and I'll get started on my sci-fi time travel epic, "The Universe Is Ordinary".  You'll get an advanced copy for your troubles, and by advanced copy I mean that you'll recieve a copy of the original manuscript when it reaches completion.  Also, I'll sign it.  And you can also come with me on my five city midwest tour, and if you're really qualified and trustworthy, you can be my agent.  Yes, the agent to "Mike Lee the Extraordinary".  Think about it.  We'll grab lunch, hang out.  Become best friends.

That's all.  Nothing more.  It's 2:22pm CST.  I'm still in my pajama-jams, listening to that song from The Matrix when Morpheus and Neo are walking down the street during the agent training program.  Life is considerably simple and boring (Which is why I need you to invest in me and become my trusted agent).  And to answer your question: Harper Collins is a fine for publishing my book.  I'm okay with that. 

Hope everyone had a great summer, a fantastic labor day.  Enjoy your week (call me).

Run, Rabbit, Run

Hello, Hi, Welcome, Bienvenido, Ni hao, Konnichiwa, Bonjour...so on, so forth.

I'm going to level with all of my viewers here: I got completely bored of the blog. Which is why, once again, it's been over two months since the last post. South Korea gave up on me. China gave up on me. Even David gave up on me. We haven't had one of his snarky comments in a long time (which, by the way Dave, you're off comment probation. You can come back now).

I ended up running the half marathon here in the great St. Louis city on Sunday April 10th, 2011. It was exciting, terrifying, electrifying, mind blowing, etc. etc. For those of you who are even the least bit physically inclined, I STRONGLY recommend running in any sort of race like this. It is an unforgettable experience. Yes, there is a lot of pain and hard work involved, but it is worth it. People are constantly cheering from the side lines of the race. You're running with thousands of other people who also trained and worked hard to reach this point, and there's a sense of unity. You're not racing against them but with them. The only thing you could be racing against is time and yourself. I guess that's the reason I never liked team sports. You're always working against somebody, and for me in gym class it was generally more against my team mates. Super competitive people made me feel inadequate. That's the reason why I hate playing football. I could never understand the game, we always played it in gym class, and I was always hounded by meat head jocks when I missed the ball (if they even bothered to throw the ball at me, that is). But I'm not bitter or anything. I think I'm pretty much over it (says my psychiatrist).

Running, biking, swimming...this are things that don't need competition. You can just do them. I guess you can just throw a ball back and forth instead of playing an actual game, but I'm going to be honest here and just flat out say it gets a little stale after awhile. At least running and biking have some change in scenery.

I'm getting a little off track. Enough about team sports and my scarred teenage years.

Yes, the race was great. I finished in 2 hours 28 mins. I regretfully didn't drink enough water along the track, took one of those Gu energy packets (these make you sick and ruin your life. Especially when you need something sustaining like water) around mile 8 and started to lose stamina a little after mile 9. I had trouble just moving at the same pace and ended up walking the rest of mile 9. After that I intermittenly ran/walked until the last mile. I had to finish that last mile strong, so I ran it and sprinted the last hundred feet or so to make it in under 2 and half hours. I didn't get my sun shirt out of the deal, but I got a lot of snacks, a neon green shirt, and a medal, which was good enough for me.

Other than that, things have remained pretty quiet. Not a lot happening and that's not okay but I can deal with it. Summer is here, or at least in my professional opinion. So, no more snow storms with ice, no more chapped lips, no more dry knuckles. Just sweat and sunburns for me.

That's all I have. I didn't really have anything loaded for this issue of The Living Blog. I'll whip up some good material for next time. Thanks for stopping in.

Going The Extra Mile

As soon as I welcome South Korea, they don't even bother to come on to the site again to look at their personal welcome. Come on, South Korea! I know I didn't stay up all night putting together this amazing welcome, but I at least considered you in my writings! You should be so proud and fulfilled. First it's me. My last name is Lee. I'm pretty much Korean anyway (except for that part where all of my ancestors came from Western Europe, the makers of measles and colonialism). And second, I love you guys. Really, I do.

But, I'm not completely abandoned. Another country has made a number of visits this week. And that country is...

CHINA!!

Yes, the will-be Successor in the global market (least, that's what I've been hearing all these years) has actually put forth the effort to visit my site. So, in this installment of "Revenge of the Living Blog" I give a big, WARM welcome to our Chinese pals. Thanks China for giving up your time to read some crazy American's blog. I really appreciate it. Keep it up too. It'll get really interesting here on the blog, I promise. Also, Happy New Year! Year of the Rabbit. I'm sure it will be a good one. I'll eat a lot of vegetables, hop around, and when an animal or human sees me I'll remain perfectly still with my eyes wide open and nose twitching in an effort to celebrate properly.

And South Korea...you can scroll down to see your welcome. If you wanna come back to the blog. Whatever. I don't care either way.

Recently I started training for a half-marathon. I officially started training little over a month ago right after I registered. It cost $85 to register. I know I was entering late, but that's a lot of money to run for a couple hours. I mean, I obviously didn't have too many qualms with the price since I paid for it in full. But I better get a couple bottles of free Gatorade and a really rad shirt. One that's neon blue with a cartoon sun wearing hot pink sunglasses doing a thumbs up. Then just below this cartoon sun it says, "Way to go, dude!" If I don't get that, this whole endeavour is going to be a complete waste. COMPLETE...

This half marathon I'm participating in is of course leading up to one of my life goals, to fully run a whole marathon without stopping. It would be a big deal to me, especially since there was a time in my life when I was fat and tried to do sports. 12-14 was the era of "chubby". Dark, awkward days those were. I had a bowl cut, which my mother cut WITHOUT a bowl (she's a skilled artisan. She doesn't need a straight edge. Her eye is a straight edge. In Apocalypse Now when Marlon Brando talks about a dream with a slug crawling across the edge of a straight razor, he actually speaks of my mother's eye. A slug crawls across her eye without being cut). My cheeks puffed out. My face and belly were very round. Yet, when I was 11 and 12 I participated in Cross Country. Becoming winded very quickly and the force of my belly weighing down my little 4'8 (approximately) body didn't stop me from running with the big leaguers. I was an athlete. I may have come dead last each time I competed, but I FINISHED.

So now that I'm older, taller, and drink less Dr. Peppers a day, I feel like I owe it to the little pudgy fellow of my past to finish a marathon. He put forth his all even thought he didn't have much and for that I thank you. You brought us half-way little buddy, and I'm going to finish for us the race.

Monday I did about six miles without too much trouble. I'm hoping to do at least six or more today. I have to be able to do about 13 miles by April 10th. Pray me some prayers.

That's all I've got. China, once again thanks for visiting. Hopefully we can get together sometime, drink oolong tea. I've got some yixing tea pots, maybe I could come over and stay for a few months. Bike across your beautiful country side, eat some great food, drink some fantastic tea. It'd be great. Hit me up sometime when you've got the chance.

Korea, you can come too.

Peace.

"In Our Day We Didn't Have 3D Graphics. We Had 16-Bit Sprite Images. And We Were Happy."

Before we get started today, I would just like to share some new found knowledge. Recently I discovered Blogspot.com allows me to look at how many people look at my blog (which, to my surprise, is a number larger than 1 [apparently I have some other fans, Dave]). Now, that information on it's own is very exciting. But I have something even better to add to that: People from South Korea read my blog. And quite regularly. I mean, Russia and China and some other spots in the world show up on my viewing statistics, but South Korea appears to be a pretty regular visitor.

With that said, I would just like to give a big American welcome to our South Korean brothers and sisters across the earth who frequently visit "Revenge of the Living Blog". I would like to also say, I love your part of the world, could you possibly find me some work and a place to stay? I would really like to visit (or live) in Seoul if possible. Kimchi is pretty tasty. I've never practiced Tai Kwan Do, but am willing to learn. That's about the extent of my South Korean knowledge.

Now, with that portion crossed off the list, we can finally move onto more important things.

Like, things we (Generation Y) will have to explain to our children 15-20 years from now. The last couple generations have been lucky in the sense that we've been able to see technology advance at an astonishing rate (well, astonishing for me. I'm always fascinated by the magic of technology. It might be because I'm not really savy on math or science. That doesn't mean neither subject interests me. I just don't grasp either subject as well as others. I'm a dumb emotional artist rather than someone with a vast amount of logic and patience). We've seen the explosion of the video game market in the late 80's into the 90's. We've seen the mediums of music, video, and games go from cassettes and cartridges to thin discs, enhancing the quality of each medium. Our children (my friend Phil Freeman brought this up) will never understand the phrase "Be Kind, Rewind" ("You guys had to rewind all your movies when you were done watching them?"). They won't understand the proper method of blowing into a cartridge to get a video game to work. They're method of getting a game to work will be to rub the disc on their shirt. Or maybe all the games will be 100% downloadable, like how books, music, and movies are becoming, so they won't have to wipe or blow anything at all.

It'll be a little strange I suppose. Still, I hope my kids are fascinated by the notion of the video game cartridge, just like when my parents and grandparents would describe old methods to me it would instill a bit of fascination.

The other day I was playing Mario Kart for the Wii with my friend's nephew. He's about 9 or 10 right now. Never experienced the 90's (poor kid). This is probably the only Mario Kart game he's ever experienced. Well, this one and the Mario Kart for the DS. Still, I knew he had never played the original Mario Kart for SNES, or even Mario Kart 64. As I was playing the new Mario Kart, I said to him, "You know, there was a time in Mario Kart when there wasn't a blue shell". I think I blew the kid's mind.

It's a small thing, but it gives me that refined feeling that I've lived a bit of this life. I'm getting to a point where I have certain cultural experiences that people born much later never had an opportunity to enjoy. There'll be more added on, I know. This is but a taste, and I like it. Doesn't make me feel old. At least not yet. It makes me feel privilaged, the fact that I have this secret knowledge of previous times in my brain. I, along with a few million others, are keepers of this knowledge, waiting to share when the proper time comes.

Maybe I'm giving us too much credit. As if Super Nintendo is as important as remembering The Depression or WWII. Still, as the up and coming generation, the one that is finally vacating the colleges to start overthrowing the world, we have certain histories (outside of old video games) that we'll have the privilage to tell succeeding generations.

And to that I say, "Remember when there were only a 151 Pokemon?"...

Letter Writing, Impertinence, and a Couple Other Things.

This next post will be mostly an extension of the last one, but only in the sense that I'll be following up in the subject of "I have a difficult time relating to the present times" (No Harry Potter in this post). I think that's partially because I missed out on pretty much every time period that preceded my own life. I realized this a long time ago, but only recently decided to lament the fact.

There's one thing specifically that I wish could have continued strongly through my own lifetime. Letter writing.

Personally, I think strong, critical writing in general has gone the way side. It's only used by those who write professionally or by a student needing to write a solid, thought out paper for class (even then mediocre writing is prevalent. I would know. I produced a lot of it no more that a year and a half ago). Currently we, as a society, have countless ways to publically publish everything we write, from Facebook to Twitter, to internet blogging. This unfortunately, doesn't mean every person who types something onto the computer and posts it online really took the time to really craft or, much less, really think about what they're saying.

That was another subject I planned to blog about earlier this week, but never really pulled it together: Impertinance. I suppose I have some time to touch on it in this blog.

Social networking has undoubtedly given us unlimited means of communication with those both far and near, but this doesn't mean all that communication is useful or important. As a matter of fact, I think it has fed our egos a little more (arguably the ultimate of human vices). Think about it: People can say (post) whatever they want and have the whole world (more specifically their world: friends, family) read about it, believing that people will care. And we end up caring because we comment with our own brand of meaninglessness and click the "Like" button.

Now, understand, I'm not calling everyone spending his or her free time on this sites a bean brained individual. But it's given people an opportunity to say what they want, but it nurses in our minds an impulsive, shallow way of doing so. For example, Twitter. Twitter gives the user up to 140 characters to say something, anything. It's like some sort of mini challenge: "What can you say in 140 characters?" You could say a lot of things. All of it is simple and to the point. Not a bad thing, but still the limitation involved doesn't always give the user an opportunity for a complete thought. An uterance. Maybe a joke, a quip, a shout out. A small quotation. Not a full, well rounded means of expression.

I guess my point in all this is, the current culture (myself included) has unlimited opportunity with writing but limited capabilities for growth in the writing. Simply, it's reduced. Therefore, people don't like to write anymore. I've NEVER heard a college student say, "We have a twenty page paper due in a month? Oh boy! I'm so excited to get started on that!" (well, maybe in a sarcastic tone. But NEVER seriously). Writing (and especially good writing) is somewhat obsolete in the day to day (read comments in a forum some time).

Which brings me to my initial point: letter writing.

This afternoon I went to the Borders in Ballwin, MO. The store is closing, so I decided to stop by and pick up a few books for cheap. I bought Billy Collins' "Sailing Alone Around the Room", Allen Ginsberg's "Howl", and a published collection of letters between Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg. When I saw the book of letters I was ecstatic. If you're new to the blog, then you probably don't quite understand my love for Kerouac and the Beat Generation. It's actually quite inexplicable and I wish I could understand the reason for it myself, but all I know is that it's clearly there and it isn't going away. I digress. So I end up paying for the books and returning home. After I read "Howl" aloud to myself in my room (no one else was home to think me mad) I cracked open the letters book and began where most people don't: The introduction. Immediately I see that my sentiments about letter writing are reflected in the introduction:

"It is now common to lament the gradual demise of the handwritten or handtyped letter over the past decades. Significant blame is often placed, and rightly so, on the radical lowering of phone rates. Up through the mid-1960's, for many people calling long-distance across country was a rare and costly luxury, only to be indulged in for an emergency or to share news of a birth or death. But as technology improved, people could increasingly afford to pick up the telephone and talk through details of their lives with friends and loved ones, instead of taking the time to sit down and write. More recently, the advent of e-mail has further diminished the flow of snail mail correspondence." - Jack Kerouac And Allen Ginsberg: The Letters, xxi

I believe the last generation to truly enjoy and make use of letter writing was the Baby Boomers. My parents both came quite late into the baby boom. My mother was born in the 1958 and my father in 1961 (If I'm not mistaken. I'm never very sure). Still, I do remember a time, when I was much younger, when my mother would sit down and write out these long letters to her sisters and parents. Now most conversation between her and her side of the family is made with phone calls and, more than likely, emails (although my Aunt Sue does write rather lengthy notes in her Christmas cards).

As much as I don't want to admit to it, I don't think my generation, or the one before it, has much use for letter writing. Things are faster and easier now with the internet. We can say what we want and be done with it. Then there's that (possibly) personal sense of fame every time something is posted. I know when I make an exceptional status update I like to have everyone remark upon it. Of course, that is my ego (and yes, I do blame Facebook for making larger than it actually should be).

I'm getting off track.

Letter writing is a lost art unfortunately and I offer my lamentation (this is where refusing to live in my own time comes in). I believe, although maybe not firmly, that the internet has made the community of people sloppy writers. Everyone should have a good sense of speech, communication, and it's usefulness. I would love to see a letter in my mailbox randomly. Truthfully, though, it's a tough thing to constantly do. It takes time. It takes thought. There's sort of this big expectation that the recipient is going to really READ the letter. It's not like an email where one click of a button could make it disappear as if it never existed at all. It's there, it's real. You can touch it. Every pen stroke is visible. Every scratched out mistake. With that sort of pressure, it takes even more time to really make a letter. It is, in my personal opinion, art. From whomever it may be, it is a piece of art. Maybe I'm over romanticizing the letter. But let's be honest, if you recieved a letter tomorrow, how excited would you be? Especially if it was written by someone you really cared about?

I value the aniquity and the simplicity of it, I suppose. Say what you will, I think people would be better writers if they hand wrote or even typed letters to one another. Real letters. Not just email. A piece of writing in a stamped envelope. They'd at least value it more.

That's all I've got. Until next time.

Anachronism.

I've recently discovered I have a psychological issue. Self diagnosed, yes, but I'm pretty certain on it. The issue I have is living in the correct time period with everyone else. Allow me to explain...

For about 10 years now I've had the first four Harry Potter books. I read the first one when I was thirteen, then never touched the others and moved on with my life. And it was a pretty good life without them. Under my personal opinion, I functioned well with normal society without being well versed in the world of Harry Potter. Given, I encountered MANY individuals who gave their lives to this Potter fellow, buying the books the day of their release and reading them non-stop in one day. Then the movies came out, and that only made things worse (For their addiction, not for me). I didn't quite follow all these people to Hogwarts each year, with great expectation for the next installment. Instead, my copies of Chamber of Secrets, Prisoner of Azkaban, and Goblet of Fire sat on the bookshelf collecting dust.

Until about three months ago.

I finally cracked. Part one of The Deathly Hollows came out last November, and my friend Vanessa invited me to see it opening night. Now, I had seen the film adaptations of Order of the Phoenix and Half-blood Prince prior, but this time it finally dawned on me: "Perhaps, these last ten years, I've been missing something. I feel out of the loop and now I want to be in it."

So, at the start of December I started my journey to Hogwarts, beginning with The Sorcerer's Stone. I'm about a third of the way through Goblet of Fire at this point. Still hooked and plan to finish the rest of the series just to say I did before that last movie comes out.

Now, my point being, I should have read these things a long time ago. I'm 24 years old, it's 2011. I'm not with the program. I'm still in the 2000's. And worst of all, I suddenly have no one to talk to them about. These people who were super excited and obsessed about these books have moved on with their lives. It's about the Obama Administration, the economy, healthcare, the politcal upheaval in North Africa, Twilight, Justin Beiber, Lady Gaga in an egg.

Well...after I finish these books, in a couple years, I'll start watching Lost. And I'll get really excited and want to talk about it. But no one will listen. They'll tell me things like, "Mike, that was like 10 years ago. You missed it, get over it". Or I'll buy a Lady Gaga album in 2020 and talk about how good it is and people will say, "Mike, Lady Gaga built a spaceship and drove it into the sun. The gaga for Gaga phase is over."

Who Am I? What have I become?

Motivation.

Alright. So it's been awhile. Forgive me.

I was beginning to wonder if something happened to me as well. "Oh no...what if Michael is in a ditch somewhere with two broken legs and we can't hear him? Oh, wait..."

I wanted to post something back in December. Really, I did. Then I realized it wasn't worth it and that I could just call up David (undoubtedly my most loyal...and really only...blog follower) whenever I had something of worth to talk about. Then I kind of tickled the notion of maybe, POSSIBLY, posting back in January. Once again, couldn't bring myself to log on, stare at the computer idlely until something great popped into my head to type about. But today I figured, "I'm here...why not."

So welcome back! Big news right now...the blog, if you hadn't noticed already, is officially a year old. I thought about getting him a cake so he could slop around in it and then I could video tape the whole thing and show it to him later to embarrass him, but then I realized the blog is not a living entity (In spite of the title).

Still serving the Tea Lords in an endless effort to bring precious capital into their establishment. It's tough because I find little to no reason to give all my effort. When I don't recieve acknowledgement or praise or really any sort of value in my work, I tend to not care quite as much. Especially when constantly it's my weaknesses that are being highlighted and very, very rarely my strengths. Not to say that my pride and ego need to be inflated constantly. Or maybe they do and that's a shortcoming on my part, but I think we should get some return for our work even if it is, "Hey, good job".

It could be that I'm just soft and whiny. Some people never get recognition, work hard week after week, coming home tired with little time or energy left for hobbies or people.

That's the reason there hasn't been a post on here in three months. Lack of motivation. It's like I need some end goal, or something of worth to keep me going otherwise I feel like whatever I'm doing is just killing time and I don't want to kill time because I don't need to. I have things to do, people to meet, places to see, escape plans to make, one life to live. If there is no purpose or value I feel as if it's a waste (Says the man who spends countless hours on Facebook).

I will try to diligently continue to post on this site though. No matter how many people see this I need to understand that this is working the writer that is slowly wasting away inside me. This blog is like practicing scales on an instrument, stretches and exercises before a big run or game, a sketchbook for the artist. There's a muscle in my brain that will need constant training and development, so if I can just focus on that I'll be more willing to post on here.

No if I could just do the same for when I work in the Tea Mines of Moria...