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by Richard Timothy | Feb 17, 2010 | Confessed Confidentially, I Think There's a Point, Lightbulbs and Soapboxes, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
With the Seth luncheon well underway the introductions started. This is one of those things that have always confused me. There was a voice-over introduction for the lady that got on stage to introduce the lady that put the even together. Who, after getting on the stage, took the mike and introduced Seth. It’s like watching the Oscars… or as I look at it, the evening of endless introductions for introducers who introduce montages for introducing movies, or movie related topics.
It was during this all of these introductions that my random trigger, um, triggered. It was the idea of the business theme song. The point was about what your business’s theme song would be. I know what Angela’s Illuminated Woman theme song is because I hear it playing all the time. Twelve times in a row through the walls in my office last night alone. It’s… bloody hell, just a minute. I’ll get there. It’s a “we can do it” kind of theme song… If You’re Out There by John Legend. Whew. Got it. You’d think I’d have the song memorized by now.
Right, so my theme song would be… See, it’s all variables that keep me changing my mind. The thing about theme songs is that they sort of evolve into your life soundtrack. I can tell you Angela and my first theme song was Mazzy Star’s Fade into You. It has never gone away either, every time we here it, we start getting all sappy and nostalgic. We have definitely added a few more songs since then.
One song that always reminds me of Angela and I is Glósóli by Sigur Ros (on of my favorite bands of all time). And I don’t even know what the song is about. It’s in a foreign language and I’ve never bothered to look up a translation. I personally like not knowing. It makes the song that much more about us. In fact I highly recommend this practice to everyone. When you don’t understand the lyrics, you create your own lyrics in their place.
There was a stretch back in the 80’s when Axel F was my theme song. This lasted about a week. Thanks to Beverly Hills Cop. Hey, it was one of the few perfect break dance songs back then. Still, when it comes to personal theme songs I don’t think instrumentals create the same potency as lyrical songs. Sure they have some musical imagery, but I think its the lyrical painting that gives you the defining step between a good song and one of the most brilliant songs you’ve ever heard.
I know that during my first run through college my theme song was The Great Song of Indifference by Bob Geldof, because I really didn’t mind… at all. Before that I discovered the music of Bob Marley. It was my senior year of high school and for over a year I was a smitten with Jamaica and all things reggae. My musical interests were once again foundationally shaken when I was first introduced to Ani DiFranco. This fascination let to her being the only artist I’ve seen live over five times.
Then there are the “I was in love” theme songs. And after it’s all said and done you realize that you added to the epic success of a song that is so unrelentingly tedious that it has forever solidified its place in the eternal inclusion of every collection of elevator music that will ever be made here after. Not to mention you feel you need to personally apologize to the people standing around you for having purchased the song when it starts playing on the radio, or in a department store, or, inevitably, in an elevator.
There are two things that happen at this point. The people you apologized to either break down and admit that they too have contributed to the horror that is the song. Everyone then hugs and forgives one another. It can be a very freeing and healing experience. Or, people laugh at you and then beat you with sticks. If you quickly explain it was for the pursuit of coitus, they usually stop hitting you and you can forgo any trips to the emergency room. Of course, I am referring to that damn Titanic song. It’s not going away people. It’s going to be one of those things that our generation will be apologizing for, for generations to come. Let me be the first to say, WE ARE SORRY! We were young and in love! We didn’t know any better! Ahh, I feel better. Thanks.
Then there are the guilty pleasure theme songs. You know, the songs that you play in the closet, or when no one is home. The album is usually hidden on your computer 10 or more folders deep in an attempt to detour anyone from finding it. In my case, it’s usually The Gambler by Kenny Rogers, or More Human than Human by White Zombie. I’m not particularly proud of this, but I’m not going to stop listening to them either. It’s my guilty pleasure and I’m keeping it.
As for my theme song, as a writer… I kept thinking about this throughout Seth’s presentation. I’m still trying to figure it out. I thought about something from Queen? I do have my Greatest Hits: Queen CD in my car. Then again I’ve had a copy of that album in every vehicle I’ve ever owned. But no, I’m not sure any of those songs work. Besides, after years of abuse by Hollywood it runs the risk of being a touch cliché, the only exception being, FLASH… A-AH! That song never gets old.
I’m sure I could try assigning a theme song to each post I’ve done so far. If I was more musically motivated I might consider attempting the task. I might even ask my friend Dave Lockman to help with the project. (No Dave, I’m not asking, it’s just a tangent, not a project I want to take on.) One of the things I appreciate about Dave, the musical comparative posts he does from time to time. I think their well worth the read.
Well, maybe I’ll open it up to all of you. Any theme song suggestions for my Smirk blog? Or perhaps just me as a writer? I’d love to hear your suggestions.
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: ashamed, Flash Gordon, and idea.
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by Richard Timothy | Feb 12, 2010 | Confessed Confidentially, I Think There's a Point, It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time, Lightbulbs and Soapboxes, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
I’ve started creating a list of things I think I’d be willing to try that I’m typically in opposition to. Things that fall under the “doing it for the experience” chapter of life that I think everyone keeps track of, even if it is just a mental note in the imaginary book of our life. I’m not sure this chapter is ever included in biographies, but I think if they did include it, it would definitely add to any books overall readability.
I don’t consider this the same as that list people make as a “to do” list before moving on, powering down, challenging Death, passing into nothingness, or getting your wings, depending on which mythos caters to your needs best in the dying department. Apparently this list always has a connection with buckets, or something.
The basic concept of those types of lists seems to have an arch nemesis quality about them. They are commonly filled with the extremes of life, or as American marketing felt was the necessary approach X-TREMEs of life. These are often things that might put you closer to death than you were at before you started the list. Things like bungee jumping off a bridge… with no bungee cord. You know, things like that.
The list I am talking is a lot of the time about the impulse of the moment, and after saying that I can see how making this list is a bit counter productive in regards to the impulse factor. The thing is, the list is not always for future tense experiences. Instead of it being filled with things you will do, it’s also for the things you have done. So the list is not always full of positive experiences. Some of the experiences were just, well, for experience.
Going to my first and only professional bouncy ball sporting event, which oddly when put like that covers far more sporting “things” than I initially thought… basket ball, my first and only professional basketball game. It was years ago and the tickets were my tip for ordering a pizza. It was the damnedist thing. It was a snow packed afternoon and I didn’t want to cook so I ordered a pizza and when it finally arrived the first thing the delivery man asked me was if I had any plans for next Thursday night.
This caught me a bit off guard. I told him I thought he was cute and was sure he was a lovely person, but he really wasn’t my type. His eyes opened uncomfortably wide while he replayed the whole conversation back in his mind. It reminded me of a baby’s face when it is being tossed in the air. During that freefall phase, there is always that “why the hell are you doing this to me” look of horror. 
It isn’t until they are caught they start smiling and giggling again… or crying. I’ve seen plenty as well. The delivery boy did not cry, instead he caught himself. When he realized what he had said he smiled, and explained that I had won two tickets to a Jazz game, who is only professional sports team that Utah has, I think.
My first impulse was to sell them. Then I started thinking. Perhaps going to a live game would give me some additional perspective to help me better understand the personal mystery that is sports. I asked a friend to go with who was actually a fan of the team and the sport, thinking it might help. It didn’t… well it did in the sense that he could tell me what color of team jersey I should be cheering for based on our proximity to the surrounding fans and who they were cheering for. As for sport appreciation, I still don’t get it, but I went damn it. I did it for the experience.
Sky diving in bowling shoes was another one of these things to add to my experience list. I dug that one though. I went with my two little sisters. It was Steph’s 18th birthday present to herself. It was good, good day. Trying wine for the first time during my first trip to Italy was another experience for the list that just sort of stuck, which should help explain my affinity for Italian wines. It was in the town of Manarola, in Cinque Terre. Sigh, I love that place. Spending a summer in San Francisco turned out to be one of those “seemed like a good idea at the time” experiences, which landed on the “did it for the experience” list with one of those “disastrous experience” asterisks placed right at the beginning, in bold.
Who knows maybe some day I’ll post about each one of these little experiences, but it would probably be a result of a “did it for the experience” for blogging while inebriated.
Things that I’ve recently thought of that I’d probably throw on the list are:
- Sampling a pint of Guinness in a pub in England or Ireland. Having never tried beer in any country, and really having no desire to try any, sampling some Guinness in a pub setting has doable element to it. Sample being the clarifying word in that. Sorry, but I’m afraid I cannot commit to anything more than a sampling at this point.
-
Go to a Cubs game at Wrigley Field and eat a ball park frank. I really don’t care about seeing them play, but I’d like to put the eating a frank at Wrigley Field on my list, and I don’t eat hot dogs. I’ve haven’t since I learned with they were made of some 20+ years ago.
- Drinking a correctly made cup of tea is something that made my list of required experiences ever since two days ago when I came across that section in The Salmon of Doubt, and just might just happen this weekend.
- Sitting in a tub of jell-o might belong on my list. Sure it sounds wrong on multiple levels, but if it goes bad I imagine the worst that would happen is that it could result in an international campaign of “shit you should never do”. Ohhh…
- Create an international campaign for “shit you should never do”.
- And… spend more than 15 minutes creating my things to get to for my “did it for the experience” list.
The nice thing about these lists, they are always a work in progress. Although, don’t confuse this with an excuse or justification list. If your actions result in emotionally or physically hurting another person and you try to claim you did if for the experience… no! Piercing your naughty bits is something one might do for the experience. Hurting someone for the experience defines you as a douche and places you right below that ring of nasty growth that forms in the toilet if you stop cleaning it for s few weeks on the list of brainless life forms.
How about you? What is something you’d put on your “for the experience” list?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: to do list, Utah Jazz, Manarola Cinque Terre, and Wrigley Field.
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by Richard Timothy | Feb 8, 2010 | Confessed Confidentially, I Think There's a Point, Lightbulbs and Soapboxes, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
I love Trekkies. Not because I am one, and not because I want to be one. I mean I have never had the opportunity to play one on television, nor have I ever gone to a convention, but I think I’d like to… on both counts. I mean, I did go to the new Star Trek on opening night… on an IMAX screen no less, but I didn’t initiate it. A friend invited me. It was a lot of fun though, and for the record, going to a movie with a theater full of devout fans really adds to the delight factor of the film. The only exception being the last three, which were actually the first three Star Wars movies, episodes 1 and 2 anyway… the second one was so bad I boycotted the third one and have still not seen it. I mean let’s be honest, after episode 2 ended… I witnessed a theater of adult males openly crying out of sheer disappointment, I mean let’s face it that was the day the power of the force lost all its power.
I guess more than anything, I just like the idea of Trekkies. Now before I go any further, I know that there are going to be those that get a bit frumpy at my use of the word Trekkie as opposed Trekker. I never even knew this was an issue in the Star Trek fan microcosm until I watched the documentary Trekkies.
Apparently, a Trekkie is one kind of fan and a Trekker is another, but no one can really agree what the official definition of each term is. So I think it breaks down to which word you like the sound of most, that’s what you will label yourself as. I guess in a vague way it’s the difference between calling yourself a Buddhist or Zen Buddhist, or maybe a Catholic or a Protestant, a Druid or a Wiccan, a cat person or a dog person… paper or plastic. The core perspective is the same, it’s just the label is what is different.
So left them fight… better make that debate. Let them vigorously debate about it all they want, but honestly people, WWGRD, What Would Gene Roddenberry Do? 
I do have some friends that are Trekkie-ish, which enables me to be a bit of a vicarious Trekkie, which I do enjoy the hell out of. I participate by buying these friends the occasional action figure, or toy phaser, or a USS Enterprise model with buttons that make launching photon torpedo sounds and such. I have three words for you Star Trek marketing gurus… Star Trek Legos! They would sell like, like Margaritas in Cancun. Mmmm, margaritas, sigh…
(Note to self, stop by the liquor store on my way home from work.)
Right, so about this vicarious Trekkie thing, this also means that I can watch the television shows and enjoy the movies, well, except for 5, UNLESS, yes there is actually a way to sit through and enjoy Star Trek 5. It’s called RiffTrax. Thanks Mike! Still, all of this enjoyment aside, I don’t really invest in anything more Trekkie than that. I don’t go to club meetings. I don’t know any substantial Star Trek trivia. I mean I know Kirk was a captain and a man-whore, and has the middle initial T. I know that Spock is really Leonard Nimoy, or maybe it’s the other way around. And I know that if some bloke on the away team is sporting a red jumper, I’ll be taking two drinks once he inevitably dies (one of the rules when playing a Star Trek drinking game).
I know some people give Trekkies a hard time mainly because they don’t really get it, but I’d like to point out that they make the extreme acceptable. They gave the people the ok, to dress up and go to movies. I mean Comic-Con would still be a groovy idea that a few guys had one night hanging out in the garage playing their Atari 2600 if it had not been for the clear message of support and success fans continue to give Star Trek. They have helped infect the world with the belief that it’s ok to be an adult and dress up when it’s not Halloween.
Besides, I absolutely love the random and creative discussions that come about as a result of this type of fan participation. Things like, who would win in a fight between a Jedi and a Vulcan. To which I think we all know the answer, neither, because it would be both illogical and in conflict with the way of the force. Granted a Sith and a Vulcan, that is a different story. All I know for sure (which I’m completely making up) is that if that Vulcan were in fact Spock, hands down, that Sith would be Spock’s bitch every single time… no exceptions.
I don’t see this as any than sporting debates and the fanaticism about fantasy football, or any other fantasy sporting events that people obsess about. Personally, I don’t see a lot of difference between a sports hero and a superhero. I mean sure the Flash might be able to steal bases better than Ty Cobb, but my guess is that he probably can’t hit worth a damn. Well, that and one is real person and the other is a fictional character.
So, when it comes to life as a proxy Trekkie, as long as I have friends who are willing to believe and engage, I’m happy to support them with Pez, toys, the occasion Star Trek movie marathon, and, yes, if needed, my personal contribution in helping them down a warp core breach.
Live long and na-nu… or something.
Any of you have your own kind of vicarious fanism?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: warp core breach, Trekkie, Trekkies Spock, and wwrgd.
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by Richard Timothy | Jan 12, 2010 | Confessed Confidentially, I Think There's a Point, Working Observations
So last weeks little day-time cold medicine topic got me thinking about a somewhat related subject. My explanation of how day-time cold medicine left me feeling a little off kilter reminded me of the discovery that I was, in fact, allergic to Percocet. And for the record, this was a legitimate discovery, as opposed to an experimental discovery.
It was a number of years ago. I ended up getting a wee bit of shoulder surgery and to help with the pain during my recovery, I was prescribed Percocet. Up to this point I had never been given this substance. In fact, when it came to prescribed meds I had only tried Tylenol with Codeine. They gave it to me when I had my appendix removed. I had also tried penicillin for the numerous times I got Tonsillitis growing up, which were never removed.
Seriously, I got Tonsillitis 4 or 5 times growing up. And no, it was not because I was a make-out man-whore. I mean sure, at the time I wished I was, but hanging out with friends always took precedence over the prospect of making out. Ok, and, more accurately, it was the fact that I was shy and a bit of a social retard when it came to figuring how to chat up members of the opposite sex in such a manner that would result in sucking face.
So… right! I ended up with a prescription for Percocet, which I found was very misleading name in my opinion. When I initially heard the name pronounced it sounded like perk-o-set. It sounded great. I figured with a name like that I would not only remove my pain, but it would also set me up as a perky individual in the process. How brilliant was that? I’d be perky, happy, and pain free right? Wrong!
Like any drug commercial you see on television these days the one thing you can count on 100% of the time is that the drug will have side effects. These side effects are quickly discussed, and it always seems to take longer to list these effects than it does to go over the actual benefits of the drug. Percocet is no different. Only no one at the hospital offered to spend thirty seconds to a minute to quickly list all the possible side effects I could experience.
So I started taking my pills, as directed, and I started experiencing some things that I hadn’t noticed before the operation. Things like dizziness and lightheadedness for a start. There was drowsiness, nausea (without vomiting), and an unexplained unpleasant feeling (dysphoria). And then there was the itching… oh god the itching. It always seems to creep across my back. Yes, the one place that someone who just had shoulder surgery would have the most difficult time getting to. I felt like Baloo, but instead of singing the Bare Necessities while trying to scratch my back by rubbing it against any protruding wall, or tree, or anything I could find, I was mostly just swearing loudly, at… at everything. Yeah, for me Percocet = instant turrets.
Instead of calling it “Perk-o-set” they should have called it “grumpybastard-o-set”. Because every time I took a pill you could be sure I’d be set as a grumpy bastard for the rest of the day. I was actually back to work a few days later, but I had no idea what the problem was and why I was feeling so ornery, and that it how it happened. I was at a weekly departmental meeting, all jacked up on my grumpy bastard pills, and I was asked to share. Ok, so here’s what happened…
I did a wonderful job staying silent through the whole meeting, until… See, at some point in the weekly meeting there was always a period near the end were we would go around the table and everyone would take a few moments and report what they were working on and how things were coming along. Well during this time I had been assigned to work with the boss’s niece, whose father was one of the main shareholders for the company. So, as is always the case in this type of situation, she was given a well paying position for a job she had absolutely no experience in doing, and most the time didn’t. It was a summer job for her, so she could make some money to go shopping before college started.
She was assigned to head a project that I was ultimately responsible for. She needed to do some testing on a new product and get with me so I could get the documentation done for it. At the time of the meeting it had been over a month since the testing had been assigned and I had still gotten nothing from this girl. In fact by this point in the summer she was only showing up for work about twice a week for 4 to 5 hours at a time, and, if I remember right, spent most of her time IMing her boyfriend from her work computer.
Now in normal times and in times where I was not full of drugs I was having an allergic reaction to, I would have been able to address the situation in a much more diplomatic way. BUT, because of my induced state at the time, diplomacy was not on my list of things to consider, nor was the always reliable “think before you speak”. So when they asked how the project was going, I just blurted out exactly what I was experiencing and what I thought. I believe my response sounded a bit like this, “I have no idea. Alice (not her real name /wink) has been in charge of this for almost two months and she has not given me any information yet. I keep trying to meet with her to talk about the project, but it’s not like I have a lot of options. She’s only here maybe two days a week, if that.”
It was at this point I notice how big everyone’s eyes had become and that everyone at the conference table was staring at me, but at the same time trying not to make any eye contact. The thing was I didn’t see anything wrong with anything I had said. Everyone stayed pretty clear of me the rest of that week. On a plus side, it sort of worked. Someone else was reassigned the project and we got it done about two weeks later. Plus, I didn’t get canned for pointing out the complete lack of performance from the boss’s niece, so that what a good.
It was a week later while at physical therapy that I mentioned some of what I was experiencing, and they suggested that I talked to my doctor about getting a new and different prescription as soon as possible. The next day I was on new pain killers and life was back to normal. When my boss noticed my return to normality we had a little talk about my behavior at the meeting. I was a touch surprised when she explained my demeanor and candidness during that meeting, which I had completely forgotten about until she brought it up.
After explaining my prescription problem and how it had been corrected, I was pretty much off the hook. It’s amazing how forgiving people can be when you legitimately use the excuse, “I had a bad reaction to some new meds.” It seems everyone has, “been there” at some point in their life, and seems pretty willing to forgive that one. I think it’s a sort of karma thing, a sort of cosmic at work get out of jail free card due to a bad meds reaction. I mean when I hear someone use that excuse on me I’m very willing to be very forgiving, because, hey, I’ve been there.
Any bad meds days you care to share?
Image Source:
Google Images, key words: Percocet, baloo, and office meeting.
With the Seth luncheon well underway the introductions started. This is one of those things that have always confused me. There was a voice-over introduction for the lady that got on stage to introduce the lady that put the even together. Who, after getting on the stage, took the mike and introduced Seth. It’s like watching the Oscars… or as I look at it, the evening of endless introductions for introducers who introduce montages for introducing movies, or movie related topics.
Right, so my theme song would be… See, it’s all variables that keep me changing my mind. The thing about theme songs is that they sort of evolve into your life soundtrack. I can tell you Angela and my first theme song was Mazzy Star’s Fade into You. It has never gone away either, every time we here it, we start getting all sappy and nostalgic. We have definitely added a few more songs since then.
There are two things that happen at this point. The people you apologized to either break down and admit that they too have contributed to the horror that is the song. Everyone then hugs and forgives one another. It can be a very freeing and healing experience. Or, people laugh at you and then beat you with sticks. If you quickly explain it was for the pursuit of coitus, they usually stop hitting you and you can forgo any trips to the emergency room. Of course, I am referring to that damn Titanic song. It’s not going away people. It’s going to be one of those things that our generation will be apologizing for, for generations to come. Let me be the first to say, WE ARE SORRY! We were young and in love! We didn’t know any better! Ahh, I feel better. Thanks.
As for my theme song, as a writer… I kept thinking about this throughout Seth’s presentation. I’m still trying to figure it out. I thought about something from Queen? I do have my Greatest Hits: Queen CD in my car. Then again I’ve had a copy of that album in every vehicle I’ve ever owned. But no, I’m not sure any of those songs work. Besides, after years of abuse by Hollywood it runs the risk of being a touch cliché, the only exception being, FLASH… A-AH! That song never gets old.
