Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Quick Update
Hey kiddos. I hadn't realized how much time had gone by since my last post. I guess it's time for an UPDATE!
This one's going to be very short and (hopefully) very sweet. I'll plan a larger, more in depth article later this week, when things calm down to a slow simmer.
Tonight, my task for you is: Meditate.
Sit - you can sit anyway you like. I tend to sit in a chair, but you can sit cross lagged or lotus, if you can manage. Sit and close your eyes and focus on your breathing. And one more thing. Smile. It doesn't have to be a big smile, just curl the sides of your lips up a bit. Then breathe and sit quietly. You will find your mood instantly enhanced. Why?
Well, it has to do with how our body reacts to stimuli. We think that we feel fear -> tense up. But it just might be the other way around. Science has shown that squeezing your fists or tightening your calve muscles can increase your "willpower", that is, you ability to resist something. So it stands to reason that smiling - even if you don't feel like it, will uplift your mood. And everyone can use 10-20 minutes of levity.
So try for 10 minutes. That's about my limit after a week. I am easily distracted.
More later this week, about routines, and an update on my task to get a degree...without actually getting a degree.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Playing With Yourself (Dating Tips)
Hello, friends. Today's post was going to be about Motivation, but as I drafted and edited, I zipped right past 2500 words and closed in on 3000 without really breaking a sweat. To be fair, the air conditioning was on. But still, It dawned on me that this was exiting blog territory and reaching essay territory. With some additions, it could easily creep into manifesto territory. It certainly had that passion.
Manifesto? Really?
Well, with no small amount of panic I tabled that for another day. It's now four to five blog posts at least. And if I break it up, that means I'll only write more on each topic. Until it's 100 pages. A Manifesto.
Weird.
So tonight I want to talk about something else. This really should come after dealing with motivation, but I am particularly right brain tonight. So the after comes before. get it? Good.
As an artist ( and you are an artist, your art my be as precise as machine tolerances, but it's still an art) you need to date yourself. I don't mean take yourself to dinner and demand sex because you paid for lobster. I mean take yourself and do something enjoyable. Play in the mud in your brain and see what's stirred up
Artists need play. I believe everyone has an inner artist, and inner soul, and that soul needs to play. Don't worry if this waxes pseudo-mystical, like I said, I'm right braining it write now. bear with it. You need to take out the proverbial crayons, stuff hands full, and draw on the walls. Let it create, combining things and making a big ol' mess until something comes up. Till the soil. There more metaphors for this than I can count. And counting is left brain. If I start to try I'll come up with "Banana" and then Banana fallout will make me sick. Then the Banana Protection Agency will come in their nuclear, banana, and chemical suits and take me away.
I apologize, totally uncalled for. I shall give my right brain a proper spanking for that.
I want to suggest every one do it. Honestly, successful artists already do something like it. Artists with that certain spark most definitely must. This is how you restock your creative well. This is how you find more material. By playing; by being silly.
I certainly seemed silly tonight. I sort of wandered Bastille days. I hadn't planned on it, but one shop was selling paintings. In particular a monochromatic Paris scene caught my intention. It was impressionist, the heads of the strollers being not much more than dots, hats blotches and brushstrokes underlining them. But it captured vibrancy - without even being vibrant. The second was a abstract panting of squares and triangles in muted reds and yellows. All sharp angles on an cream-orange background. As I stood transfixed, I gradually saw a woman, powerful, magnificent, motherly. Sharp angles are not feminine, but with them the artist captured a woman's power. It was magnificent. If only I could have bought it.
When I slide into flow, the world (forgive me, more pseudo-mysticism) plays with you. When I look at people with my inner artist eye everyone becomes beautiful. It is as the old masters discussed. The golden "true" or "heavenly" ki becomes apparent. The man with skin burned brown by the sun with the cheap bear and the big gut, in the gray wife-beater becomes as noble to me as the well-proportioned Greek statues. His body becomes interesting, A thing to exalt. But the universe also plays. Patterns emerge in the way people move, and you can sense the connections. It is as if the subconscious of everyone reveals to me it's connection, like lines of filament racing between people. I am certain this makes me sound mad. The right brain is mad. You feel connected.
I wandered Bastille days. The shops did not interest me, save as back drop. A poem popped through the haze. It was transcendental. Anyone who has read about Kaballah will understand the Kether's soft hum and, bubbling from the pleasant fog came fragments, phrases, a poem. In part. Everywhere I look I saw subjects to paint. The man staring glassy eyed at a stage, the woman slapping her husband, laughing at his roguish joke. The three women sitting, base and classless, legs splayed ungainly and unconcerned. The almost desperate, predatory glance of the vendor looking for one last sale. The bored folk singer, unhappy that he was billed at 7pm on a Sunday.
The artist date is for everyone. But not my artist date. I see patterns and shapes. When I stood at the lake front near the Milwaukee Art Museum, all I could see were vistas needing to be painted. Every where I turned my view split into geometric shapes and proportions, ratios and colors: Bone and Coral white, Slate blue and midnight, Dark green and a brown so vivid you'd swear it black. The artist date is play and practice What you do when you play shows you who you are. I looked at the waves and knew intuitively the patter on the sea. I like big, complex patterns.
I use the term Artist Date, but people who don't believe they are artists can benefit from these sorts of dates. My friend Adam is a Physics genius. To him, these vistas are not very exciting. But a circuit board, or problem electronic piano, are his play. My friend Eric finds his play in the endless possibilities that simple bechemel creates. I only imagine Anne digging madly in the dirt surrounded by verdant plants. These things touch the deepest core of them and make them giddy. And perhaps Adam looks as foolish grinning over neon green printed circuit board, and Eric in chef whites with a lobster on his head, and Anne peering thoughtfully into a microscope, lips pursed and brow furrowed and coat smeared with dirt, as I do holding my thumb out and mumbling ratios, but it doesn't matter. This is play that touches your core purpose, and it's serious business.
I highly recommend everyone take an Artist Date. If you want more information about it, I refer you to Julia Cameron's "The Artist Way." That's where I got the term. Don't let the term spiritual throw you off. It is perfectly useful to us contended atheists.
From this one hour stroll, three things may develop. I have decided on two of the three skills I want to gain competency in: Oil Painting (It's been so long, i have to start from scratch), and Fencing (I met a local fencing team, they were awesome, i gushed like a fanboy). Second, a poem is being constructed, slowly, in my mind. Finally, I may paint or at least, build a portable easel so I may carry it to the lakefront.
This was not meant to be long. Perhaps I shall add it to my manifesto. I wish I could take credit for coming up with the idea. I can only hope I sufficiently encourage you to go out and play.
So tell me. If you've experienced the utter lightness of being that comes with core play, tell me in the comments section. If you haven't, go out and try it and see what happens, then tell me about it below or send me an email.
Manifesto? Really?
Well, with no small amount of panic I tabled that for another day. It's now four to five blog posts at least. And if I break it up, that means I'll only write more on each topic. Until it's 100 pages. A Manifesto.
Weird.
So tonight I want to talk about something else. This really should come after dealing with motivation, but I am particularly right brain tonight. So the after comes before. get it? Good.
As an artist ( and you are an artist, your art my be as precise as machine tolerances, but it's still an art) you need to date yourself. I don't mean take yourself to dinner and demand sex because you paid for lobster. I mean take yourself and do something enjoyable. Play in the mud in your brain and see what's stirred up
Artists need play. I believe everyone has an inner artist, and inner soul, and that soul needs to play. Don't worry if this waxes pseudo-mystical, like I said, I'm right braining it write now. bear with it. You need to take out the proverbial crayons, stuff hands full, and draw on the walls. Let it create, combining things and making a big ol' mess until something comes up. Till the soil. There more metaphors for this than I can count. And counting is left brain. If I start to try I'll come up with "Banana" and then Banana fallout will make me sick. Then the Banana Protection Agency will come in their nuclear, banana, and chemical suits and take me away.
I apologize, totally uncalled for. I shall give my right brain a proper spanking for that.
I want to suggest every one do it. Honestly, successful artists already do something like it. Artists with that certain spark most definitely must. This is how you restock your creative well. This is how you find more material. By playing; by being silly.
I certainly seemed silly tonight. I sort of wandered Bastille days. I hadn't planned on it, but one shop was selling paintings. In particular a monochromatic Paris scene caught my intention. It was impressionist, the heads of the strollers being not much more than dots, hats blotches and brushstrokes underlining them. But it captured vibrancy - without even being vibrant. The second was a abstract panting of squares and triangles in muted reds and yellows. All sharp angles on an cream-orange background. As I stood transfixed, I gradually saw a woman, powerful, magnificent, motherly. Sharp angles are not feminine, but with them the artist captured a woman's power. It was magnificent. If only I could have bought it.
When I slide into flow, the world (forgive me, more pseudo-mysticism) plays with you. When I look at people with my inner artist eye everyone becomes beautiful. It is as the old masters discussed. The golden "true" or "heavenly" ki becomes apparent. The man with skin burned brown by the sun with the cheap bear and the big gut, in the gray wife-beater becomes as noble to me as the well-proportioned Greek statues. His body becomes interesting, A thing to exalt. But the universe also plays. Patterns emerge in the way people move, and you can sense the connections. It is as if the subconscious of everyone reveals to me it's connection, like lines of filament racing between people. I am certain this makes me sound mad. The right brain is mad. You feel connected.
I wandered Bastille days. The shops did not interest me, save as back drop. A poem popped through the haze. It was transcendental. Anyone who has read about Kaballah will understand the Kether's soft hum and, bubbling from the pleasant fog came fragments, phrases, a poem. In part. Everywhere I look I saw subjects to paint. The man staring glassy eyed at a stage, the woman slapping her husband, laughing at his roguish joke. The three women sitting, base and classless, legs splayed ungainly and unconcerned. The almost desperate, predatory glance of the vendor looking for one last sale. The bored folk singer, unhappy that he was billed at 7pm on a Sunday.
The artist date is for everyone. But not my artist date. I see patterns and shapes. When I stood at the lake front near the Milwaukee Art Museum, all I could see were vistas needing to be painted. Every where I turned my view split into geometric shapes and proportions, ratios and colors: Bone and Coral white, Slate blue and midnight, Dark green and a brown so vivid you'd swear it black. The artist date is play and practice What you do when you play shows you who you are. I looked at the waves and knew intuitively the patter on the sea. I like big, complex patterns.
I use the term Artist Date, but people who don't believe they are artists can benefit from these sorts of dates. My friend Adam is a Physics genius. To him, these vistas are not very exciting. But a circuit board, or problem electronic piano, are his play. My friend Eric finds his play in the endless possibilities that simple bechemel creates. I only imagine Anne digging madly in the dirt surrounded by verdant plants. These things touch the deepest core of them and make them giddy. And perhaps Adam looks as foolish grinning over neon green printed circuit board, and Eric in chef whites with a lobster on his head, and Anne peering thoughtfully into a microscope, lips pursed and brow furrowed and coat smeared with dirt, as I do holding my thumb out and mumbling ratios, but it doesn't matter. This is play that touches your core purpose, and it's serious business.
I highly recommend everyone take an Artist Date. If you want more information about it, I refer you to Julia Cameron's "The Artist Way." That's where I got the term. Don't let the term spiritual throw you off. It is perfectly useful to us contended atheists.
From this one hour stroll, three things may develop. I have decided on two of the three skills I want to gain competency in: Oil Painting (It's been so long, i have to start from scratch), and Fencing (I met a local fencing team, they were awesome, i gushed like a fanboy). Second, a poem is being constructed, slowly, in my mind. Finally, I may paint or at least, build a portable easel so I may carry it to the lakefront.
This was not meant to be long. Perhaps I shall add it to my manifesto. I wish I could take credit for coming up with the idea. I can only hope I sufficiently encourage you to go out and play.
So tell me. If you've experienced the utter lightness of being that comes with core play, tell me in the comments section. If you haven't, go out and try it and see what happens, then tell me about it below or send me an email.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
What was the point?
Hello, Kittens and Kits, another update, so near to the last one.
Be still your hearts, lest they seize up in shock!
I recently dug the Art of Nonconformity out of my closet. I do not recommend the book. It's a self-aggrandizing piece of schlock. the sort of self-help book that shows how bad ass the author can be. It's terribly uninspiring. Or maybe I am difficult to inspire.
But it does have ONE important part. That is the "Cheaper grad degree."
As posted here, this was what started my adventure. I wanted to get the education of a graduate degree without actually paying an egregious price for a grad degree. Well, as you can see, that post is from nearly a year ago. Seems longer to me. Of course, on the Internet, a year might as well be one thousand.
So I had big ambitions. Too big, I am afraid.
So let's take a look at what we've done so far:
For those keeping track, here is a link to the list.
You clicked on the link, didn't you, you silly goose! I list it her as well!
Be still your hearts, lest they seize up in shock!
I recently dug the Art of Nonconformity out of my closet. I do not recommend the book. It's a self-aggrandizing piece of schlock. the sort of self-help book that shows how bad ass the author can be. It's terribly uninspiring. Or maybe I am difficult to inspire.
But it does have ONE important part. That is the "Cheaper grad degree."
As posted here, this was what started my adventure. I wanted to get the education of a graduate degree without actually paying an egregious price for a grad degree. Well, as you can see, that post is from nearly a year ago. Seems longer to me. Of course, on the Internet, a year might as well be one thousand.
So I had big ambitions. Too big, I am afraid.
So let's take a look at what we've done so far:
For those keeping track, here is a link to the list.
You clicked on the link, didn't you, you silly goose! I list it her as well!
- Subscribe to the Economist and read every issue religiously. Cost: $97 + 60 minutes each week.
- Well, I lived for 2-3 months after this with a gentleman who actually received the economist, so I would score his copies. Now I don't. Unfortunately my current employment situation doesn't allow me to order it. Anybody want to mail me copies?
- Memorize the names of every country, world capital, and current president or prime minister in the world. Cost: $0 + 3-4 hours once.
- Uh... Gurahnakakiztan? I suspect you should sense a theme here. This one is particularly shameful. It would take a little longer than 3-4 hours, but not much more.
- Buy a round-the-world plane ticket or use frequent flyer miles to travel to several major world regions, including somewhere in Africa and somewhere in Asia. Cost: variable, but plan on $4,000.=
- The point of this blog was to do this on the cheap. I still haven't saved up enough for my grand adventure. To be honest, my retirement plan is pretty bad. Have you guessed the theme yet?
- Read the basic texts of the major world religions: the Torah, the New Testament, the Koran, and the teachings of Buddha. Visit a church, a mosque, a synagogue, and a temple. Cost: materials can be obtained free online or in the mail (or for less than $50) + 20 hours.
- I forgot about this one. I'll get on it.
- Subscribe to a language-learning podcast and listen to each 20-minute episode, five times a week, for the entire year. Attend a local language club once a week to practice. Cost: $0 + 87 hours.
- Well, assuming I stay where I am (and I hope I do) I live very close to the Serb hall. I suspect that Serbian, whilst difficult to learn, would be made easier when playing lawn bowling with old men. This appeals to me, as I am a very old man at heart.
- Loan money to an entrepreneur through Kiva.org and arrange to visit him or her while you’re abroad on your big trip. Cost: likely $0 in the end, since 98% of loans are repaid.
- Well, I am too broke to do this, but I know of a very deserving entrepreneur you can donate to
- Acquire at least three new skills during your year. Suggestion: photography, skydiving, computer programming, martial arts. The key is not to become an expert in any of them, but to become functionally proficient. Cost: variable, but each skill is probably less than three credits of tuition would be a university.
- Again, I failed at this. Seems I am very terrible at keeping up on tasks. But We shall reorient and retry, I suppose
- Read at least 30 nonfiction books and 20 classic novels. Cost: approximately $750 (can be reduced or eliminated by using the library).
- I've read, I think, 3 nonfiction books to date. So 10% done! Woo hoo, time for a break!
- Join a gym or health club to keep fit during your rigorous independent studies. Cost: $25-$75 a month.
- I one0upped Mr. Guillebeau. I got myself a "ghetto gym." All the work out equipment I need, and it cost about 70 bucks so far. It's missing a few things, but even with those it will come in under $125. That's less than 6 months a gym I'd never go to anyway.
- Become comfortable with basic presentation and public speaking skills. Join your local Toastmasters club to get constructive, structured help that is beginner-friendly. Cost: $25 once + 2 hours a week for 10 weeks.
- Well, Toastmasters costs 52 dollars for 2 weeks. I set out to join when I lived in Florida. had a blast, loved it. it was too far to walk but by bike it wasn't bad. Then a car had the misfortune of hitting me. Then I was relieved of my status as a roommate. It occurs to me that this happens a lot.
- Start a blog, create a basic posting schedule, and stick with it for the entire year. You can get a free blog at WordPress.org. One tip: don’t try to write every day. Set a weekly or biweekly schedule for a while, and if you’re still enjoying it after three months, pick up the pace. Cost: $0.
- DONE and DONE!
- Set your home page to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Randompage. Over the next year, every time you open your browser, you’ll see a different, random Wikipedia page. Read it. Cost: $0.
- I really don't open my browser that much. Does reddit count?
- Learn to write by listening to the Grammar Girl podcast on iTunes and buying Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. Cost: $0 for Grammar Girl, $14 for Anne Lamott.
- I believe I am signed up for this. I haven't checked in a while
- Instead of reading the entire Encyclopedia Britannica, read The Know-It-All by A. J. Jacobs, a good summary. Cost: $15.
- Another one I forgot. See, this is why it's good to go back and check one's goals. I suppose I could argue that I spent a good long time moving and getting back on my feet (which, honestly, I am still not actually on).
There we go kiddies. an update as to what was supposed to be done this year. Instead there was a lot of screaming, crying, and crap-your-pants terror. May have been some thumb sucking in the corner. Six months were spent recovering from disaster. Seriously, it's one after another around here.
This wasn't meant to be particularly profound, just reminding myself what the point of these shenanigans were.
Until next time, my kitlin's!
Also, feel free to leave comments here. It makes me feel special, and does not require a log in any longer.
Also, feel free to leave comments here. It makes me feel special, and does not require a log in any longer.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Racing Rats Should Leave a Sinking Ship
Well, kitlin's. good news, for once.This is the best time to start self-improvement. I'm not going to be throwing a lot of links at you today. It's mostly just opinion. But I think young people have a real opportunity. And old people. You know, 30-year-olds.
I'm especially talking to 30 year-olds. Listen up. This is where many of us are. Retirees couldn't retire, so they took the jobs we would have. And then the young took some of them, too. Unemployment is still too damn high. Sure, things are turning around. But we are still working shitty jobs.
The jobs available to most of us are shitty retail jobs. The kind of job that you used to get through college. The kind of job that you were suppose to go to college to avoid.
I am a rambling man, it seems. My editor, Sir Huffinpuff McSockSocks has pawed angrily at me as if to say "get to the goddamn point." So here it is.
5 reasons a downturned economy is AWESOME for Self-Improvement.
1) Adversity breeds creativity.
This is becoming an old rag, but I want to say it. Creativity is strengthened with a little adversity. true, disasters and soul-crushing ennui don't help much. But when pressed gently, by deadlines, by limited funds. And in solving these problems, you become stronger, and better. A perfect example is an old friend Greg. He had a problem reading (dyslexia, to be specific). To solve this, he learned to not see letters, but word shapes. Honestly, having never had a problem reading, I can only vaguely understand it. Suffice to say he realized that word shape, even reversed, can tell you a lot about the word. And so he's now one of the fastest readers I know, with better retention.
Also, Star Wars. (Is that a Law yet? Any internet argument of sufficient length will reference Star Wars? Can that be Ungart's Law?**). Due to the constraints placed on technology, the writing, drama, and characterization of the first 3 movies is vastly superior.
Gym membership is 10-30 dollars a month. Or you can use Youtube to make your own DIY gym. I'll send you pics as soon as I can get a hold of a camera. So far I have an entire gym, and I have spent about 3 months of memberships for it. And it's a lot more fun than grunting around meatheads.
2) No one holds your time but you.
Sure, your boss at the Stop-n-gulp may ask you take an extra shift 'cause Jenny decided to take off to go see the newest, coolest band. (that bitch!), but when you aren't at work, nothing is stopping you. They can't really make you do anything except you. Sure, money's tight. But you work 30 hours a week and then you are done. That leaves a solid 138 hours for important things.
So spend a few hours watching TV, or go for a walk. Hunt down fun things to do. Next week I am hitting the Art Museum, because it's Free Admission day. Then one of these weekends I'm off to the zoo. Sure, it's a racket. I'll have to pay for parking. But still. Beats working.
3) It forces you to think on what you can actually control.
This sort of dovetails with number 1. I wrote these off-the-cuff, and mostly just to see pictures of kittens. But it stands. As a broke-as-shit third-lifer, sometimes you have to decide between beer and insurance payments. Well, you need insurance. You can't really control your job too much. Unless you get creative. Do you choose the 9 dollar/hour McD's job or the 9 dollar/hour Starbucks job? Fuck it. Who cares. You are not, nor will you ever be, your job.
To reiterate. Nobody cares what you do when you’re a slave to the man. Use it as a way to explore something you love. Take a Martial Art. Join a gym (or build your own) . Start a blog about self-improvement that inexplicably turns political. Learn a language. The point is, information is nearly free (thanks hacker-gen!) and all that's required is time and determination. And believe me, you've got the time. And if schlepping coffee to (or with) overweight, angry baby-boomers and gen-exers doesn't motivate you to find something better, then you don't need this. You are a corporate slave. Go clackity-clack on your keyboard, greyface.
You can’t control your job, you can’t control aging. So don’t bother. Do what you want. Go your own way.
4) It's highly leveragable.
Ok, for once my advice for the corporate lifestyle. The world is becoming chock-full of interns and people doing projects. But you've been serving burgers or coffee or selling books. Or god help you,. worked in a call center. Let's face it, though we bust our asses, we can't successfully answer the question "what did you actually do?"
Well, uh, I guess I served coffee. I tool 55 calls a day. And, how did that help improve the company? Uh... it... uh... Lowered call times? (It didn't, we were understaffed ashell -heaven).
They want to know that you built a more produvtive "whosit", or that you worked with a team of bulgarian midget engineers and the Gnomes of Zurich*** to increase toaster efficiency by point-oh-four-four percent. And let's be honest, working retail or service, you probably don't have the authority to even actually explore the possibilities, much less actualize and implement them.
So don't. Your resume - your project resume, should read about things you did. Learned a language. Lost weight. Travel. Show them that, despite a failing economy, you did things considered very difficult. That way you can leverage your free time activities should you decide you hate yourself, and are a whore to the corporate world.
5) You’ll find your Element.
A friend of mine dropped a book called The Element in my lap. It’s an alright read. More heat than light, really. He writes that the leaders in different fields found their “element”. Basically they found their passion, niche, and support group to become the best at “whatever.” If you are slogging away as an intern AND working at Bob’;s Chicken Shack, you don’t have a lot of time to find your element. So chuck the internship. In a year, it may make you a ton of cash, but in that same year, you may just find something that makes you actually happy and creative.. And if that’s sitting and watching TV, well, that’s ok. Relevance is for suckers.
The best thing about miserable circumstances is that you can find out how to be actually happy. I know, it’s weird for me to say that. But Sun Tzu wrote that “To a surrounded enemy, you must leave a way of escape.”. Because if you give them hope they will run to it, and rout. But if they have no other option, they will fight like lions. Well, here’s your mistake. They have left an “way of escape” from your poverty. You think that internship in Corporate America (tm) is going to lead to something better. And so you put off doing the things you love for a golden parachute. And by the time you get, you’ll break your hip using it.
__________________________________________________________
I'm especially talking to 30 year-olds. Listen up. This is where many of us are. Retirees couldn't retire, so they took the jobs we would have. And then the young took some of them, too. Unemployment is still too damn high. Sure, things are turning around. But we are still working shitty jobs.
The jobs available to most of us are shitty retail jobs. The kind of job that you used to get through college. The kind of job that you were suppose to go to college to avoid.
I am a rambling man, it seems. My editor, Sir Huffinpuff McSockSocks has pawed angrily at me as if to say "get to the goddamn point." So here it is.
5 reasons a downturned economy is AWESOME for Self-Improvement.
1) Adversity breeds creativity.
This is becoming an old rag, but I want to say it. Creativity is strengthened with a little adversity. true, disasters and soul-crushing ennui don't help much. But when pressed gently, by deadlines, by limited funds. And in solving these problems, you become stronger, and better. A perfect example is an old friend Greg. He had a problem reading (dyslexia, to be specific). To solve this, he learned to not see letters, but word shapes. Honestly, having never had a problem reading, I can only vaguely understand it. Suffice to say he realized that word shape, even reversed, can tell you a lot about the word. And so he's now one of the fastest readers I know, with better retention.
Also, Star Wars. (Is that a Law yet? Any internet argument of sufficient length will reference Star Wars? Can that be Ungart's Law?**). Due to the constraints placed on technology, the writing, drama, and characterization of the first 3 movies is vastly superior.
Gym membership is 10-30 dollars a month. Or you can use Youtube to make your own DIY gym. I'll send you pics as soon as I can get a hold of a camera. So far I have an entire gym, and I have spent about 3 months of memberships for it. And it's a lot more fun than grunting around meatheads.
2) No one holds your time but you.
Sure, your boss at the Stop-n-gulp may ask you take an extra shift 'cause Jenny decided to take off to go see the newest, coolest band. (that bitch!), but when you aren't at work, nothing is stopping you. They can't really make you do anything except you. Sure, money's tight. But you work 30 hours a week and then you are done. That leaves a solid 138 hours for important things.
So spend a few hours watching TV, or go for a walk. Hunt down fun things to do. Next week I am hitting the Art Museum, because it's Free Admission day. Then one of these weekends I'm off to the zoo. Sure, it's a racket. I'll have to pay for parking. But still. Beats working.
3) It forces you to think on what you can actually control.
This sort of dovetails with number 1. I wrote these off-the-cuff, and mostly just to see pictures of kittens. But it stands. As a broke-as-shit third-lifer, sometimes you have to decide between beer and insurance payments. Well, you need insurance. You can't really control your job too much. Unless you get creative. Do you choose the 9 dollar/hour McD's job or the 9 dollar/hour Starbucks job? Fuck it. Who cares. You are not, nor will you ever be, your job.
To reiterate. Nobody cares what you do when you’re a slave to the man. Use it as a way to explore something you love. Take a Martial Art. Join a gym (or build your own) . Start a blog about self-improvement that inexplicably turns political. Learn a language. The point is, information is nearly free (thanks hacker-gen!) and all that's required is time and determination. And believe me, you've got the time. And if schlepping coffee to (or with) overweight, angry baby-boomers and gen-exers doesn't motivate you to find something better, then you don't need this. You are a corporate slave. Go clackity-clack on your keyboard, greyface.
You can’t control your job, you can’t control aging. So don’t bother. Do what you want. Go your own way.
4) It's highly leveragable.
Ok, for once my advice for the corporate lifestyle. The world is becoming chock-full of interns and people doing projects. But you've been serving burgers or coffee or selling books. Or god help you,. worked in a call center. Let's face it, though we bust our asses, we can't successfully answer the question "what did you actually do?"
Well, uh, I guess I served coffee. I tool 55 calls a day. And, how did that help improve the company? Uh... it... uh... Lowered call times? (It didn't, we were understaffed as
They want to know that you built a more produvtive "whosit", or that you worked with a team of bulgarian midget engineers and the Gnomes of Zurich*** to increase toaster efficiency by point-oh-four-four percent. And let's be honest, working retail or service, you probably don't have the authority to even actually explore the possibilities, much less actualize and implement them.
So don't. Your resume - your project resume, should read about things you did. Learned a language. Lost weight. Travel. Show them that, despite a failing economy, you did things considered very difficult. That way you can leverage your free time activities should you decide you hate yourself, and are a whore to the corporate world.
5) You’ll find your Element.
A friend of mine dropped a book called The Element in my lap. It’s an alright read. More heat than light, really. He writes that the leaders in different fields found their “element”. Basically they found their passion, niche, and support group to become the best at “whatever.” If you are slogging away as an intern AND working at Bob’;s Chicken Shack, you don’t have a lot of time to find your element. So chuck the internship. In a year, it may make you a ton of cash, but in that same year, you may just find something that makes you actually happy and creative.. And if that’s sitting and watching TV, well, that’s ok. Relevance is for suckers.
The best thing about miserable circumstances is that you can find out how to be actually happy. I know, it’s weird for me to say that. But Sun Tzu wrote that “To a surrounded enemy, you must leave a way of escape.”. Because if you give them hope they will run to it, and rout. But if they have no other option, they will fight like lions. Well, here’s your mistake. They have left an “way of escape” from your poverty. You think that internship in Corporate America (tm) is going to lead to something better. And so you put off doing the things you love for a golden parachute. And by the time you get, you’ll break your hip using it.
__________________________________________________________
*nobody is paying me to shill.
** Beats the other Ungart's Law. I feel bad for the people in Ohio now. Look, I did not know the cat was underage, I swear. It said it was 12 months.
*** That's two Illuminatus Trilogy references. Eat it R.A.Wilson!
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Value Added Illusions
Well, my lovely kittens, it's your unhelpful psychopomp of slack here. The last blog was apparently rather timely. I really was packing my parachute. Unfortunately it was still half full of anvils when I was booted out the door. Wheee!
Thankfully my workplace isn't so much a high rise office as it's a basement cave. So I didn't fall very far. Just sort of got dumped on my ass.
The reasons why are not terrible important. In other words I don't want to talk about it, unless I already have (which, admittedly, is most of you, dear readers). I will admit that I am in a sour mood today. Which is the perfect mood to discuss some bullshit.
We are going to talk about one of my least favorite phrases in business: "Value Added." I also hate any of it's combinations: "Add value, Adding value, extracting value, etc". It's a bullshit phrase.
Ever notice that the only people asking for more are the fucking takers? I first heard it when I worked for the fuckers at The Frantz Group. The lousy bunch of suit-wearing cocksuckers, I only thank them for two things. Chiefly, they made me realize I don't belong in cubicles or any place were I have to sell to others, and for making me read "The Accidental Salesman." Though honestly, I didn't absorb a word of it.
They told me that when I started that we need to "Add value" as if this is explains why people buy shit. What the fuck does that even mean? I thought. I understand the words. I understand the concept, I just don't understand what the fuck they are asking for.
See, marketing took that phrase from Economists, dressed it in a pretty pink dress, and raped it. In marketing, it means features and additions that add value but cost nothing. In short, value adding is bullshit.
The true meaning of "Adding Value" is pander to some cocksucker's bullshit.
Someone's got something you want (money, sex, or power, usually). They are the gatekeeper of your desire. So you kiss there ass and tell them how wonderful they are in the hopes that some of that MSP spills over and splashes on your shoes. That's it. That's value adding. And we love it because we can pretend that the person adding value gives a shit.
Let me ask you this? When's the last time a politician "Value added" to voters? Fuck all. We don't have what he wants. He wants money and power. And to get that power he needs to spend money. You wonder why politicians offer sweet kick backs to companies? They hope to get money from the companies. And companies spend money so that they can get sweet deals and turn laws in their favor. And yes, politicians "value add". They aren't spending their money, they aren't ruining their power-base by pandering to the companies. They got that money and power from us. We gave it to them.
Imagine for a moment if I went to a Wal-Mart and said "well, I want to buy this Candy Bar, but, what value can you add?" Assuming the employee's IQ is above 80 (and likely it is, given this economy), they would laugh themselves stupid. They'd tell me to buzz off. But we are handing out free products to celebrities. Why? These companies are not idiots. They know that the celebrity won't buy shit - they don't know how to use money. However, there are thousands of idiots who buy shit because some dumbass in a movie wears it. Seriously, are your David Beckham jockeys some how better than my 3 dollar Hanes. Really?
(As an aside, doesn't that sort of prove that for an economy to prosper then we need a lot of people with disposable income? I mean, if the rich having money helped companies, wouldn't they give away to the poor and sell to the rich?)
The reason nobody gives two shits about people at the bottom is that they forgot the power we have. It's our money, collectively, that drives the economy. Sorry if that makes the Rich feel bad and "breaks there feewings," but there it is. Sure, they worked hard to get where they got (sometimes), but they need to realize that working hard doesn't let you become a parasite and a dick. Maybe you should add some real value. Unless you are handing out small business gifts and fighting to stop egregious regulations on small businesses, your money is about as useful as Km Kardashian's marriage vows. (Is this too old a reference? It's the last pop culture bit I know)
But I digress. The point is, every cost is calculated. There is no such thing as adding value. Anyone who tells you to add value is being a greedy bitch. They are value extracting, and you can tell them to go right to hell.
Alright, few links in this one today. Less interesting, I know.
Next time, I might post on why I voted for Scott Walker because someone told me if I wasn't sure who to vote for, I shouldn't vote. Seriously, young people need to vote, but also need not be stupid. Most of them vote leftist because it's not the right, and worse than being undecided. But there's 3 more days. Right, Left - we're fucked anyway. Honestly, all we are voting for when we make the right-left distinction is which hand holds the dildo.
Edit: I just read Ms. Trunks "justifying stealing people's labor post." I am pretty riled up, and want to punch her dead in the uterus, but for now I'll just promise to rant on it.
Thankfully my workplace isn't so much a high rise office as it's a basement cave. So I didn't fall very far. Just sort of got dumped on my ass.
The reasons why are not terrible important. In other words I don't want to talk about it, unless I already have (which, admittedly, is most of you, dear readers). I will admit that I am in a sour mood today. Which is the perfect mood to discuss some bullshit.
We are going to talk about one of my least favorite phrases in business: "Value Added." I also hate any of it's combinations: "Add value, Adding value, extracting value, etc". It's a bullshit phrase.
Ever notice that the only people asking for more are the fucking takers? I first heard it when I worked for the fuckers at The Frantz Group. The lousy bunch of suit-wearing cocksuckers, I only thank them for two things. Chiefly, they made me realize I don't belong in cubicles or any place were I have to sell to others, and for making me read "The Accidental Salesman." Though honestly, I didn't absorb a word of it.
They told me that when I started that we need to "Add value" as if this is explains why people buy shit. What the fuck does that even mean? I thought. I understand the words. I understand the concept, I just don't understand what the fuck they are asking for.
See, marketing took that phrase from Economists, dressed it in a pretty pink dress, and raped it. In marketing, it means features and additions that add value but cost nothing. In short, value adding is bullshit.
The true meaning of "Adding Value" is pander to some cocksucker's bullshit.
Someone's got something you want (money, sex, or power, usually). They are the gatekeeper of your desire. So you kiss there ass and tell them how wonderful they are in the hopes that some of that MSP spills over and splashes on your shoes. That's it. That's value adding. And we love it because we can pretend that the person adding value gives a shit.
Let me ask you this? When's the last time a politician "Value added" to voters? Fuck all. We don't have what he wants. He wants money and power. And to get that power he needs to spend money. You wonder why politicians offer sweet kick backs to companies? They hope to get money from the companies. And companies spend money so that they can get sweet deals and turn laws in their favor. And yes, politicians "value add". They aren't spending their money, they aren't ruining their power-base by pandering to the companies. They got that money and power from us. We gave it to them.
Imagine for a moment if I went to a Wal-Mart and said "well, I want to buy this Candy Bar, but, what value can you add?" Assuming the employee's IQ is above 80 (and likely it is, given this economy), they would laugh themselves stupid. They'd tell me to buzz off. But we are handing out free products to celebrities. Why? These companies are not idiots. They know that the celebrity won't buy shit - they don't know how to use money. However, there are thousands of idiots who buy shit because some dumbass in a movie wears it. Seriously, are your David Beckham jockeys some how better than my 3 dollar Hanes. Really?
(As an aside, doesn't that sort of prove that for an economy to prosper then we need a lot of people with disposable income? I mean, if the rich having money helped companies, wouldn't they give away to the poor and sell to the rich?)
The reason nobody gives two shits about people at the bottom is that they forgot the power we have. It's our money, collectively, that drives the economy. Sorry if that makes the Rich feel bad and "breaks there feewings," but there it is. Sure, they worked hard to get where they got (sometimes), but they need to realize that working hard doesn't let you become a parasite and a dick. Maybe you should add some real value. Unless you are handing out small business gifts and fighting to stop egregious regulations on small businesses, your money is about as useful as Km Kardashian's marriage vows. (Is this too old a reference? It's the last pop culture bit I know)
But I digress. The point is, every cost is calculated. There is no such thing as adding value. Anyone who tells you to add value is being a greedy bitch. They are value extracting, and you can tell them to go right to hell.
Alright, few links in this one today. Less interesting, I know.
Next time, I might post on why I voted for Scott Walker because someone told me if I wasn't sure who to vote for, I shouldn't vote. Seriously, young people need to vote, but also need not be stupid. Most of them vote leftist because it's not the right, and worse than being undecided. But there's 3 more days. Right, Left - we're fucked anyway. Honestly, all we are voting for when we make the right-left distinction is which hand holds the dildo.
Edit: I just read Ms. Trunks "justifying stealing people's labor post." I am pretty riled up, and want to punch her dead in the uterus, but for now I'll just promise to rant on it.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
The Saddle will Probably kill My Horse. (A Parody)
Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here:
Alright, my sweet and gentle readers, I promised to do a part 2 to this obnoxious statement from Romney. Truth is, my dearest companions, politics has me in such a tizzy, if I continue, I may very well get the fucking vapors. Plus I am in no mood to do anything but rant incomprehensibly whilst shooting guns, smoking, and skinning animals. Like some wicked modern shaman channeling Hunter S. Thompson, Louis Black, and Ted Nugent.
Murrika!
Today I am particularly cranky, I am afraid. My blood sugar tanks on day 3-4 and I want to MURDER everyone. And when I gather up enough sense to return I want to punch-fuck every corpse I make. I quit my diet more times than Oprah launches hackneyed bullshit soccer-mom-lit networks. My recidivism is the stuff of local legends. Why, just today, my coworkers put out a pool to determine how long this stint in Keto-land would last. Solid Money is on 8 days, but don't be too surprised if it's earlier. I chose day 4 myself, and something tells me I'm going to be right.
Which segues into what I want to discuss today. I want to discuss cheating. Cheating is good for you, if the US Political system is any indication.
I often discuss working towards your goal. That was the original purpose of WIHBIT (pronounced wih-BIT, like a frog's vocalization) was how to, with lots of time and no money, reach your dreams. Now it's how to do so with no time (because you are busting ass) and no money (because your bills have tripled). basically, how's an adult like you going to get the American dream?
Like me, you're still chasing that, aren't you? You sad, pathetic, fool.
So I am going to discuss rogue multitasking. That is, the sort of multitasking that hardworking CEOs, or by Republicans, or the United Corporatocracy of 'Merrika impugns. It is, however, the kind of multitasking that goes on behind the doors of the American office. Like adultery in the suburbs, it is pervasive, pernicious, and... *grabs thesaurus* ...promoted. Huh, I had hoped for a better word.
Let us imagine a hypothetical corporation. It's an office, and your work is pretty much typing numbers. If everyone doing your job disappeared, the world would keep on keeping on, and only the Senior Adjunct Actuary Analysts would notice. You want more, but fuck all if your stuck in an humidity and climate controlled office 40 plus hours a week. The corporation is stealing your life (Warning, Slow Goddamn Link). What can you do?
Again, these examples are purely hypothetical.
You can steal back.
1) Pack Your Parachute
So you have a job. In this economy, your a lucky one. You sit for yours, even better. But intra-company prospects don't look too great. Maybe your boss is a cheapskate and pays dick. Maybe you burned bridges and no one will look at your for a promotion. Maybe the turnaround is so bad that they can't keep people at your level, much less promote you. Maybe you are an antisocial prick with a temper who, whilst mostly OK, sometimes terrifies your coworkers. Maybe you are a perfect example of the Peter Principle and ALL GODDAMN FOUR apply to you, you poor sot. Hypothetically, of course.
There are really three options that are worth discussing in a self improvement blog. There are a couple more, but they aren't appropriate for a blog about becoming better. So let's move on, shall we, kittlins?
So here they are: Pick the best one:
1) Apply for different jobs in the field
2) Change your work behavior and buckle down in the hopes your employer will notice
3) Use as much time at work as you can get away with furthering side projects?
If you picked 3, you are right. If you picked 1 or 2, you are an idiot. Let me explain
Number One is silly. If you are in the field you love, then you should have done this already. In this economy, though, jobs are scarce, and if you do this your best bet is to wait till other people give the fuck up. And if you don't like what you are doing, why trade the security of a companies current investment for another shitty job you hate? You are probably pretty safe for now, and there's no guarantee that your assholery will be accepted the new Grand Pooba Fuckstick Drones in the new cubicle. So unless the ship is sinking or you are "A sir," this is a shitty idea.
Number Two sounds promising, doesn't it? But self-improvement is fucking hard, and you can expect it to take a year at least to improve how your company perceives you. And, if you improve too much, your company may leave you in your position with additional responsibilities because "times are tough" and they laid off the entire HR department (Poor Janet). And who has two thumbs and extra work? You do, sucker. A year from now when the bad taste in your mouth translates into a 50 cent raise you wonder "how's that promise to lose weight and become a glorious goddamn novelist?" Yeah, about as well as I thought.
So your only option is three, really. Pack your parachute. What I am suggesting is, do what everyone else around you is doing. Work as little as you must and use every second you can squirrel away to work on personal projects. Blog on the clock. If you can't get out to the Internet, study something. Learn to hide your book under papers for when the boss walks by. take a shift that affords you anonymity - whatever you need to do to find some time.
A coworker calls this "Stealing Time." So be it. If corporate 'Merrika taught me anything, it's that cheaters win, marketing works, and you don't need to be good, just have a shiny press packet. And you can bet your sorry fat ass that your boss is doing it.
Damnit, this post is getting long. I promised to do smaller posts, and here I'm fucking the word limit like I'm a drunk tourist in Bangkok. Crying and throwing up all over the glitterboys.
Alright, kiddies. I'm not done talking about how stealing time is your best goddamned friend. Hypothetically. I would never suggest you really do this.
Next time, we'll see more about stealing your life back, the new job order, the term "adding value" and all sorts of other bullshit. But I am a Gemini and kind of a flake, so pool as to when the next blog post occurs starts now. You can up the chances by poking at me occasionally with a stick.
Alright, my sweet and gentle readers, I promised to do a part 2 to this obnoxious statement from Romney. Truth is, my dearest companions, politics has me in such a tizzy, if I continue, I may very well get the fucking vapors. Plus I am in no mood to do anything but rant incomprehensibly whilst shooting guns, smoking, and skinning animals. Like some wicked modern shaman channeling Hunter S. Thompson, Louis Black, and Ted Nugent.
Murrika!
Today I am particularly cranky, I am afraid. My blood sugar tanks on day 3-4 and I want to MURDER everyone. And when I gather up enough sense to return I want to punch-fuck every corpse I make. I quit my diet more times than Oprah launches hackneyed bullshit soccer-mom-lit networks. My recidivism is the stuff of local legends. Why, just today, my coworkers put out a pool to determine how long this stint in Keto-land would last. Solid Money is on 8 days, but don't be too surprised if it's earlier. I chose day 4 myself, and something tells me I'm going to be right.
Which segues into what I want to discuss today. I want to discuss cheating. Cheating is good for you, if the US Political system is any indication.
I often discuss working towards your goal. That was the original purpose of WIHBIT (pronounced wih-BIT, like a frog's vocalization) was how to, with lots of time and no money, reach your dreams. Now it's how to do so with no time (because you are busting ass) and no money (because your bills have tripled). basically, how's an adult like you going to get the American dream?
Like me, you're still chasing that, aren't you? You sad, pathetic, fool.
So I am going to discuss rogue multitasking. That is, the sort of multitasking that hardworking CEOs, or by Republicans, or the United Corporatocracy of 'Merrika impugns. It is, however, the kind of multitasking that goes on behind the doors of the American office. Like adultery in the suburbs, it is pervasive, pernicious, and... *grabs thesaurus* ...promoted. Huh, I had hoped for a better word.
Let us imagine a hypothetical corporation. It's an office, and your work is pretty much typing numbers. If everyone doing your job disappeared, the world would keep on keeping on, and only the Senior Adjunct Actuary Analysts would notice. You want more, but fuck all if your stuck in an humidity and climate controlled office 40 plus hours a week. The corporation is stealing your life (Warning, Slow Goddamn Link). What can you do?
Again, these examples are purely hypothetical.
You can steal back.
1) Pack Your Parachute
So you have a job. In this economy, your a lucky one. You sit for yours, even better. But intra-company prospects don't look too great. Maybe your boss is a cheapskate and pays dick. Maybe you burned bridges and no one will look at your for a promotion. Maybe the turnaround is so bad that they can't keep people at your level, much less promote you. Maybe you are an antisocial prick with a temper who, whilst mostly OK, sometimes terrifies your coworkers. Maybe you are a perfect example of the Peter Principle and ALL GODDAMN FOUR apply to you, you poor sot. Hypothetically, of course.
There are really three options that are worth discussing in a self improvement blog. There are a couple more, but they aren't appropriate for a blog about becoming better. So let's move on, shall we, kittlins?
So here they are: Pick the best one:
1) Apply for different jobs in the field
2) Change your work behavior and buckle down in the hopes your employer will notice
3) Use as much time at work as you can get away with furthering side projects?
If you picked 3, you are right. If you picked 1 or 2, you are an idiot. Let me explain
Number One is silly. If you are in the field you love, then you should have done this already. In this economy, though, jobs are scarce, and if you do this your best bet is to wait till other people give the fuck up. And if you don't like what you are doing, why trade the security of a companies current investment for another shitty job you hate? You are probably pretty safe for now, and there's no guarantee that your assholery will be accepted the new Grand Pooba Fuckstick Drones in the new cubicle. So unless the ship is sinking or you are "A sir," this is a shitty idea.
Number Two sounds promising, doesn't it? But self-improvement is fucking hard, and you can expect it to take a year at least to improve how your company perceives you. And, if you improve too much, your company may leave you in your position with additional responsibilities because "times are tough" and they laid off the entire HR department (Poor Janet). And who has two thumbs and extra work? You do, sucker. A year from now when the bad taste in your mouth translates into a 50 cent raise you wonder "how's that promise to lose weight and become a glorious goddamn novelist?" Yeah, about as well as I thought.
So your only option is three, really. Pack your parachute. What I am suggesting is, do what everyone else around you is doing. Work as little as you must and use every second you can squirrel away to work on personal projects. Blog on the clock. If you can't get out to the Internet, study something. Learn to hide your book under papers for when the boss walks by. take a shift that affords you anonymity - whatever you need to do to find some time.
A coworker calls this "Stealing Time." So be it. If corporate 'Merrika taught me anything, it's that cheaters win, marketing works, and you don't need to be good, just have a shiny press packet. And you can bet your sorry fat ass that your boss is doing it.
Damnit, this post is getting long. I promised to do smaller posts, and here I'm fucking the word limit like I'm a drunk tourist in Bangkok. Crying and throwing up all over the glitterboys.
Alright, kiddies. I'm not done talking about how stealing time is your best goddamned friend. Hypothetically. I would never suggest you really do this.
Next time, we'll see more about stealing your life back, the new job order, the term "adding value" and all sorts of other bullshit. But I am a Gemini and kind of a flake, so pool as to when the next blog post occurs starts now. You can up the chances by poking at me occasionally with a stick.
Monday, March 19, 2012
BBBS, The Economy, and How To Defuckulate Ourselves. Part 1.
Well, Kittens and Kits, it's your not-so-humble favorite cat, returning to guide you on this meandering journey for self-improvement.
I shall, at a later date, happily provide you with dissemblings a-plenty about my wild roving between last August and the present. But something is weighing quite heavily on my mind, so I figured I'd start there.
I don't want this blog to transform into a political rant, or to be a mopey bitch whilst bringing you news of how to edu-ma-cate yourselves on a shoestring budget. However, I have been reading a lot of depressing news as of late.
Add that to a sudden increase in costs with out similar increase in wage, and you can understand my frustration. I am certain many of you suffer likewise.
So we are pissed, and the people in charge are pissed that we are pissed.
It's a goddamned mess, my kittens. A whole heap of it.
I was reading this article, and it got me to thinking. We are risk-adverse. We are terrified taking chances.
I want to address this, because the economy affects everything. If you are too poor to eat right, well, I guess it's noodles and cheeseburgers. Doubly true if you are working 55-70 hours a week. Goodbye weight loss, hello diabetes. We are being told to take risks as if things are abundant while being forced to live a world of contrived scarcity.
So anyway, take a look at that wonderful article. I'm going to pick it apart, give my 2 cents, and then offer some solutions off the top of my noggin. That's how I roll.
Ok, let's start with a basic premise. The NYT is saying we should be worried about this current generation not trying to become mobile and taking those entrepreneurial risks that made this country great. No cars, no bikes, no business ventures. That the stagnation "is the Occupy movement we should really be worried about."
OK, with all due respect, fuck you and fuck your face, already. We haven't gotten 4 shitty paragraphs in and you are leveling your bourgeois snark at the occupy movement. Todd Buchholz and his wife seem to think that the lack of a can-do spirit of Americana is preventing us from making it. Why, you silly goose GEN-OCs, if you only rolled up your sleeves and packed your car for brighter pastures, you could make it big in this big bold world.
By the seven-headed Dinosaur Christ. I don't have enough words to explain how utterly moronic that is. This isn't the goddamn 1920s. I am writing this on Written? Kitten! And you better thank the universe for that little guy keeping me from flipping a table.
OK, so, let's start with your Grapes of Wrath analogy.
I know, we aren't getting meaty yet, but I want to break this up. So we'll start light.
The book is a real downer, Tom. Starvation, Violence, Murder. Seriously dude, I know the last time you read it was in high school, but maybe you forgot how crapsack a world he creates. At the end a man is so starved that he must be breastfed for nourishment. Yeah, that's inspiring, you fuckwad. Shit, it's John "fuck-hope-with-crowbar" Steinbeck, for chrissake!
So, In order to get across country, you'll need transportation and food. We'll assume a car for this analogy. Traveling by plane, train, bike, or thumb has it's own problems.
I have a beat-up Taurus that gets 20 miles to the gallon with a stiff tailwind. Assuming I am traveling from Oklahoma to Cali, a trip of 1447 miles, I would use 72 gallons of gas. That's 300 bucks. Food, for 2 days, will cost you only a 20 bucks or so if you stick to PB&J (though I shudder at the syrupy state of the J after 10 hours in a hot car). This assumes 10 hours of driving a day. This will also assume that you don't rent a room to sleep in. And you can fit all your shit into a 2 or 4 door car.
So a move across the country is about 325 bucks. Not too bad. Why, that's a week of work for some, and 2 weeks for anyone on minimum wage. But what other obstacles are there? What other costs? believe me, my dearest dears, there are many. Is it really as easy as packing your shit into your car and heading out? And what about the fact that gas was 17c a gallon in 1930s, which equals about $2.86 in 2012, while we pay over $4 a gallon now?
Stay tuned, my kittlin's, for our journey to navigate the BBBS (baby-boomer bullshit) returns later.
I shall, at a later date, happily provide you with dissemblings a-plenty about my wild roving between last August and the present. But something is weighing quite heavily on my mind, so I figured I'd start there.
I don't want this blog to transform into a political rant, or to be a mopey bitch whilst bringing you news of how to edu-ma-cate yourselves on a shoestring budget. However, I have been reading a lot of depressing news as of late.
Add that to a sudden increase in costs with out similar increase in wage, and you can understand my frustration. I am certain many of you suffer likewise.
So we are pissed, and the people in charge are pissed that we are pissed.
It's a goddamned mess, my kittens. A whole heap of it.
I was reading this article, and it got me to thinking. We are risk-adverse. We are terrified taking chances.
I want to address this, because the economy affects everything. If you are too poor to eat right, well, I guess it's noodles and cheeseburgers. Doubly true if you are working 55-70 hours a week. Goodbye weight loss, hello diabetes. We are being told to take risks as if things are abundant while being forced to live a world of contrived scarcity.
So anyway, take a look at that wonderful article. I'm going to pick it apart, give my 2 cents, and then offer some solutions off the top of my noggin. That's how I roll.
Ok, let's start with a basic premise. The NYT is saying we should be worried about this current generation not trying to become mobile and taking those entrepreneurial risks that made this country great. No cars, no bikes, no business ventures. That the stagnation "is the Occupy movement we should really be worried about."
OK, with all due respect, fuck you and fuck your face, already. We haven't gotten 4 shitty paragraphs in and you are leveling your bourgeois snark at the occupy movement. Todd Buchholz and his wife seem to think that the lack of a can-do spirit of Americana is preventing us from making it. Why, you silly goose GEN-OCs, if you only rolled up your sleeves and packed your car for brighter pastures, you could make it big in this big bold world.
By the seven-headed Dinosaur Christ. I don't have enough words to explain how utterly moronic that is. This isn't the goddamn 1920s. I am writing this on Written? Kitten! And you better thank the universe for that little guy keeping me from flipping a table.
OK, so, let's start with your Grapes of Wrath analogy.
I know, we aren't getting meaty yet, but I want to break this up. So we'll start light.
The book is a real downer, Tom. Starvation, Violence, Murder. Seriously dude, I know the last time you read it was in high school, but maybe you forgot how crapsack a world he creates. At the end a man is so starved that he must be breastfed for nourishment. Yeah, that's inspiring, you fuckwad. Shit, it's John "fuck-hope-with-crowbar" Steinbeck, for chrissake!
So, In order to get across country, you'll need transportation and food. We'll assume a car for this analogy. Traveling by plane, train, bike, or thumb has it's own problems.
I have a beat-up Taurus that gets 20 miles to the gallon with a stiff tailwind. Assuming I am traveling from Oklahoma to Cali, a trip of 1447 miles, I would use 72 gallons of gas. That's 300 bucks. Food, for 2 days, will cost you only a 20 bucks or so if you stick to PB&J (though I shudder at the syrupy state of the J after 10 hours in a hot car). This assumes 10 hours of driving a day. This will also assume that you don't rent a room to sleep in. And you can fit all your shit into a 2 or 4 door car.
So a move across the country is about 325 bucks. Not too bad. Why, that's a week of work for some, and 2 weeks for anyone on minimum wage. But what other obstacles are there? What other costs? believe me, my dearest dears, there are many. Is it really as easy as packing your shit into your car and heading out? And what about the fact that gas was 17c a gallon in 1930s, which equals about $2.86 in 2012, while we pay over $4 a gallon now?
Stay tuned, my kittlin's, for our journey to navigate the BBBS (baby-boomer bullshit) returns later.
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