And that goes for all you punks in the press

So, for a long time I've been trying to figure out some way to tap into my creative side. I used to have a side job taking sports photography and blogging, but that ended about 3 months ago, mainly because I felt like my creativity was being squelched by the restrictions I had. I mean, seriously, how many different ideas can you come up to write about kickball and still keep it fresh? I was told I was repeating myself. Yeah, that kind of ended my career in sports journalism.

It's no good for man to work in cages

"I have eight different bosses right now... So that means when I make a mistake, I have eight different people coming by to tell me about it. That's my only real motivation is not to be hassled..." -- Peter Gibbons, from Office Space

I wish they'd make that big of a deal when I do something good, not just when I screw up.

I, I was standing, you were there...

People who know me, know that one thing I have really desired in my life is to find myself a husband. I'll admit it, I'm looking. And I'm not getting any younger while I do it. People who know me also know that I don't do internet dating. No eHarmony for me! I tried it, with disastrous results. I was heavier back then, and I just don't come out very well in pictures. So between the 50 extra pounds I once carried and my lack of photogenicism (is that a word?), most guys would close out their matches with me the minute I showed them my picture.

And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too, I'll see you on the dark side of the moon

Does anybody realize what a crazy baseball day this is?  Right now I am praying the Yankees complete the blowing of a 7 run lead to lose their game, currently in the 11th inning in Tampa.  I am a Yankee fan.  Just a few hours north of me, there are Red Sox fans who are praying the Yankees hold on to win this game, so their beloved Sawx can make it into the playoffs.  If the Yankees lose, the Rays will be in the playoffs.  I'm hearing the sound of heads exploding in Boston right now.

I am restless, looking for you

Running hard for the other side
The world that I've always been denied
Running hard for the infinite
With the tears of the saints and hypocrites
--Switchfoot


Yeah, that's what I mean.

...And I will give you rest

I don't pretend to be a great writer, or super funny, or super insightful, or super anything.  Maybe super boring, but that's not for me to judge really...  So to make a comparison between myself and a truly great writer and poet, I will always come up short.  But I'm going to do it anyway, because I can feel his pain right now.

Ten years gone, holding on, ten years gone

Ten years ago right now I was headed back home (or maybe already there) from dancing modern jive.  It had been a rainy night and I remember Heather and Aris, my companions, got to stay dry because I let them out at the venue (church basement) while I went to find a parking spot.  Little did I know that my dad's Aunt Berta, whom we all called Tante, had died that night.  Little did I know that a conversation I would have on the Queensboro Bridge with Aris, who was FOB from Greece, would haunt me the rest of my life.  And little did I know that my plans for the weekend would be altered.