(I start titles with hash tags. Who is social.)
Around this time last year, I lost my job. (Or we broke up, as I’d like to tell the story.) Everything else followed — confidence, hope, and my pair of slippers.
The week prior to this one also felt la-zy. My neuroses of course wouldn’t just let that be, so on that Friday, I decided to get vengeance on la-zy weeks and on strange days that would take me to the pits. (aka the dark place of unemployment)
I mastered unemployment last year, and this year will be about mastering employment. I’m currently doing something I really, really like, and I’d like to take that as far as I can.
For the most part I did everything well this week. I even asked out the girl I like — which led to hearing my most favorite thing anyone’s ever said to me: “when you speak, it’s like you’re copywriting.” (I’m paraphrasing.)
So yes: this is a continuation of the “getting my life together” plan from October last year. If I can put this much of myself in a week and get great results, I’m doing this every week. I’m not where I want to be yet, and there are weeks and weeks left to get there.
I have my sights on a bigger goal — something for this year — which I won’t share yet, but you’ll see.
Yes! It’s 2013! We made it past the apocalypse! (I think we averted natural/man-made disasters, and still I am certain that mutants are among us.)
I had a hard time thinking about what to tell you about my 2012 — it was, after all, the year that took my grandmother away from me.
2012: I started the year in a hospital bed, with a hole in my belly, (my appendix, I miss you so) grateful for flavor (after two days of not being allowed to eat). A few months in, I got out of my job, which freed me up for a lot of smart and dumb and amazing and not-so-amazing things.
I think a major theme for last year is losing, to get a taste, to get contrast for triumph.
In between those events were, like for so many of you: ups and downs. Ins and outs. Good things / bad things. Wins / loses.
Which is why I want to be a champ this year. Maybe ‘13’s unlucky for some, but I’m positive that I can make miracles happen — I *am* turning my life around.
Tiny changes. A little less with the “all-in, all-the-time” and a bit more on the “calculated all-in.” (I am mixing metaphors here.) Maybe find “tiny triumphs” everyday.
Which is good since I am at a good place in my life right now. I like being here, and I think I’ll stay here indefinitely.
It’s hard to think about 2013 without my grandmother, but it’s even harder not to be grateful.
Thank you, 2012. You did alright. (for the most part)
I don’t blog as much now.
I mean, years (and years and years) ago, on my Livejournal (hah!) I used to blog about everything. Reviews of comicbooks, toys, the girl from class whose hair smells like sunshine, etc. I even used to blog in hands-on (in-computer room) classes.
Is it time? Do less things fascinate me? Are more things just not worth blogging about?
Anyway, now that tumblr is my main blog (and I do miss quite a few features from some other platforms — decent timestamps on entries, etc.) you may notice that it appears that my blog has activity.
Yes. Internet robots. Or internet ghosts.
IFTTT. If This Then That. I love this service. It’s what keeps the tumblog updated. From here you can create custom formulas that utilize a variety of web services you’re already using. Services like Blogger, Dropbox, Evernote, Facebook, Flickr, Gmail, Google Drive/Reader/Calendar, Instagram, LinkedIn, SoundCloud, tumblr, Twitter, Youtube, and more.
Here are a couple of formulas I use that give my blog the semblance of life:
(not sure if you can open, but if you sign up for the service, you can easily find similar formulas or create your own)
So a majority of the time if I watch a video and think it deserves to be blogged, I just add it to my YouTube favorites. If it needs a little text, I’ll just edit the tumblr post later on.
Some mornings I wake up and fire up the SoundCloud app on my phone — if I hear something I like, I heart it from the phone and into tumblr it goes.
It’s not perfect though: tagging options are limited, and I favorite maybe 3-7 things in a day, and going through the tumblr editor one by one is bleh.
My instagram also bleeds here, so when I post something there, it goes here.
There are other formulas too, like when I star an item on Google Reader, it could robopost here on tumblr. Then again, you might not be interested in all the giraffe porn I’ve been star-ring in there.
Give IFTTT a try!
So I typed while I waited. This is a cheat. I edited out parts that will give context to why I was anxious. :)
The lovelorn monster, King Kong. Up in the sky, strange unknowable (to him) flying things buzzing about. All he has is the girl. The beauty. The one, real absolute truth that he can’t let go.
That’s how he died, you see: holding on to beauty. (T’was beauty etc.)
His life unraveling — what were his last thoughts, you think? What flashed through his giant primitive brain at that exact moment? He finally had a hold on what he always wanted in life, and it was killing him.
Strangely enough, these are the thoughts that occupy my brain at the moment. I am sitting here, waiting for a friend — and it kills, absolutely slays me.
I am counting on fortuities.
The table behind me is a big group: though I think they’re making a bit less noise than they ought to. Maybe this isn’t the place for them? Maybe they aren’t comfortable here? The table to my right has three maybe four people, but it seems like they’ve been here before. Is this their Friday? The table to my left is a family. They are taking pictures — a lot, actually. Years from now, will they look at those pictures and remember that Friday night, when the lone figure on the table next to them was madly typing away at an iPad, with what seems — at the moment, at least, to be waiting for a fictional date?
Two tables farther down front and to the left are couples — and couples obviously occupy their own universe, wherever they are. The table to my front is the loudest. They seem to be friends the longest. They are sitting at the table sharing a bottle of white wine and talking about everything. The music drones on from triphop favorites to what seems to be a danceable beat. This place is fantastic. (Fess up, am I not built for places like these … are you?)
She’s still in the office, 35 minutes ago. I’m itching for a cigarette, but I can’t leave my spot. So here I am madly typing away on an iPad. I wonder what I look like from the outside.
I am thinking of the lovelorn monster. Why does waiting kill me so much when I’m so good at it? I can feel my stomach shrink from all the wine I’ve had. It’s been two hours, methinks, and this is my first brush with alcohol in more than a month. Will there be chaos? A cacophony of strange buzzing things (unknowable to me) flying about in my personal airspace?
She texts. She’s sorry she’s late. Earlier I saw the owner of the place almost pull out my reservation. (a plate with my name on it) The waitress stopped her. In a lone table in the corner to my right, my cousin is madly typing away as well, making things that weren’t there the day before.
So here we
Sharing music finds is like telling someone about new, undiscovered colors. “Hey, here’s a different shade of something I like.”