You Don’t Really Like Blogging

Couldn't resist it!

7 Songs

  1. Sympathy For The Devil (Listening to GNR cover, like to mix it up sometimes.
  2. Gold Dust Woman- Fleetwood Mac
  3. Close My Eyes Forever- Lita Ford & Ozzy Osborne
  4. Pictures of You- The Cure
  5. All I Ask Of You- Phantom Of The Opera
  6. I’m A Man- The Spencer Davis Group
  7. Atomic Dog- George Clinton

Woke up around 4:30 or so, but didn’t actually leave the house until 7:30 so that I could spend an hour on the lovely Texas freeway known as 30.

Hit downtown Dallas, parked and took the elevator straight into the sky and had a great day at the office. Really, it was great, no sarcasm or snark in that last line.

What wasn’t great was the commute home or how freaking tired I was when I walked in at 6:15. Fell asleep on the couch and decided I would skip writing and go to bed and then I lost a couple of hours.

You Don’t Really Like Blogging

Is it just me or are there a metric ton of blogs out there being written by blogger who don’t like blogging. I could be wrong, hell it wouldn’t be the first or last time, but there doesn’t seem to be any joy in your writing.

Yeah, I said your writing but didn’t identify anyone because I am too tired to call some of you out, unless you are a Millenial because right now I am on a Millenial rampage.

I have had my fill of listening to a bunch of whiny talk about how life isn’t fair. Suck it up, it  is not.

Have I mentioned how cool it is to be able to embed Facebook posts or how I am going after whiny Millenials. Told one of my neighbors to take a double dose of STFU and be happy they have a full head of hair and a flat belly because sometimes you lose those things.

I don’t know if he is a blogger but if he was I would ask him if there is joy in his writing because so much feels flat and empty to me.

Am I One Of Those People?

Took a moment to ask myself if I am one of those people and thought about perception. You might read my words and instead of thinking I am a lovable curmudgeon you might think I am a salty son of a bitch.

Don’t know and only partially care. Got an email from someone who told me they don’t comment anymore because I have too many options. They ought to see the menu at Jerry or Brent’s Delis and then they’ll know what too many options really is.

I am writing these words because I love writing. There is joy in my fingertips as they dance across the keyboard. I like Peeling Back The Layers.

It is fun going through old posts to see what sort of gold nuggets lie in the darkness waiting to be rediscovered. Sometimes the joy is in the memory I get to revisit and sometimes there is joy in my words.

Phrases, Clips, and Drafts

Sometimes I want to be the guy on The Wall that screams “If you don’t eat your meat, you can’t have any pudding. How can you have any pudding if you don’t eat your meat.”

Sometimes I like going through drafts and old posts because there are pieces of them that resonate with me now. Every post/essay I write professionally and personally is part of a giant puzzle that I am building inside my head.

When things work for me the pieces are interchangeable. You can pick, pull and choose from all that is out there and use them to improve whatever you are working on or at least that is the theory.

I could spend my time writing posts about how to monetize your blog. I could spend my time writing about my kids, politics and Judaism but I have already done all of those things.

And though I enjoy revisiting them I have found it far more enjoyable to engage in a cyberspace walkabout. I like just writing because there is joy in it.

Breaking Bad Commentary

Semi-Spoiler Alert- This last episode was intense and I loved it, but it was a rough ride. I am not a meth dealer, never have been and feel confident saying I never will be.

But when Walt screamed about all he has done for his family it resonated with me and when I was cursing the idiot drivers of Texas on the 50 mile ride home I thought about my kids and remembered I was doing it for my family too.

I Don't Like Mondays Blog Hop
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