The JackB

"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." Groucho Marx

Writing

Too Much Sex & Blogging

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The last night of Chanukah has come and gone but unlike years past I didn’t have to spend hours assembling toys that make noise or stare angrily at relatives who gave my children far too many gifts.

Yeah, it was A Different Chanukah Celebration and but not one where I would automatically say You Know How The Story Ends because I am not the only person who took part in this one and the additional people all have their own tales to tell.

The children will always be a central part of my journey but my involvement in theirs changes as time goes by and as they grow more independent my role evolves.

And that aforementioned independence is the most rewarding and difficult part of it all because if parents do a proper job our kids reach a place where they don’t want us around the same way because they don’t need the same help.

Truth is, I am good with that.

Part of being a dad blogger is being able to respond to requests like You Should Blog About Raising Strong Daughters with tales and stories that illustrate that sort of success.

What Kind Of Blogger Are You Anyway?

Every few months someone asks me to define what kind of blogger I am and I ask them why it matters.

I am the kind of blogger that has a burning fire in his gut that never dies out. The guy who pushes every limit he comes up against and some he doesn’t.

The guy who sings along with Toby Keith and Sting when they perform I’m So Happy I Can’t Stop Crying and who takes the time to try and clean up the old clutter and crap that fills the pages of this joint.

Sometimes that takes me to old posts where we ask and answer if you can have too much sex.

Many of those old posts are littered with comments from people who once were daily readers and or bloggers themselves.

Sometimes I wonder where they went and if they are ok. Sometimes I click on their names to see if they are still writing and I discover a blog that hasn’t been updated in forever.

Kind of makes me feel like I am the Indiana Jones of the blogosphere, except I don’t write while wearing a Fedora, use a bullwhip to control unruly sentences or call myself Indiana.

Hell, no one calls me Indiana nor am I an archeologist, I am just a man with a keyboard and a willingness to write.

But I do have a sense of adventure, am not afraid of snakes and am willing to take big chances.

lonelyhouse

Big & Bolder Pictures

I moved from the previous theme because I wanted to use bigger and bolder pictures here.

Figured that if pictures are worth a thousand words I could draw upon some of those to tell a better story and to help create the picture I want to paint in your mind.

Haven’t always felt like I have done it as effectively as I would like to, but I am working on it. Speaking of working on things, I just figured out how to make an image in the post stretch across all the way from A to Z.

Now that I know how I’ll probably do it with some more frequency, see if it makes a difference in the experience you readers have.

Maybe it will make one or two more people decide to comment, maybe it won’t. But if you don’t try and you don’t ask you probably won’t get what you want.

Reminds me of a philosophical debate between want, need, deserve and get but I digress.

Linkbait Is Calorie & Guilt Free

Way back when we started the blog and wrote without thought or idea that others might choose to read these words there wasn’t any such thing as linkbait or at least I don’t remember it.

We weren’t being crushed by content or overwhelmed by the bells and whistles of the Internet and social media so we didn’t need to come up with goofy crap to try to get people to click on our links.

But there comes a revolution and it brings change with it so as the content tsunami bore down upon us I decided to have some fun with my headlines.

Some of it was my response to the gurus who claimed there was only one way to find success in the blogosphere and some of it is because it is fun writing silly headlines.

Blogs and bloggers who don’t have fun don’t last.

Dad Didn’t Get Any Chanukah Gifts

The kids noticed that I didn’t receive any Chanukah gifts and asked me if that upset me.

I told them I was fine and I am. Got a list of things I want but very few of those are things I need and I’ll wait to get them.

Did my best to turn it into a teaching moment too, because it is critical to understand the difference between want and need.

When Steiner the minor gave me some teenage lip I looked at him and said I want to eat pizza but I need to breathe.

As he scrunched up his face and tried to tell me that didn’t make sense I told him if you focus on figuring out what you need as much as we need to breathe it helps eliminate the non-essential items.

“Dad, that is kind of extreme, aren’t there better examples?”

“There might be, but my belly is full of steak and latkes, so I might not be giving you my ‘A’ game. Remind me to revisit this with you later or ask the Magic 8 Ball for some advice.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I have the only father in the world who can be so damn goofy.”

“Goofy is better than creepy, now scram. I need to grab five minutes of shut-eye.”

He smiles at me and tells me I am getting old, but he is wrong.

I am not getting older, I am just getting better. Hell, I am just getting started, I know how I want the story to end.

I may not have an exact map for how to get there, but I know what I want it to look like. Guess I’ll find out if I succeeded when I get there.

 

The Medium Writing Temperature

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Midnight approaches and I have written more than 10,000 words today, but almost all of them have appeared on the other blogs I…support.

Lyrics jump out at me, things worth sharing here because they have my attention:

Don’t say
Words you’re gonna regret
Don’t let
Fire rush to your head
I’ve heard the accusation before
And I ain’t gonna take anymore
Believe me

Eye In The Sky- The Alan Parsons Project

The music moves to Time and then onto a new artist and my train of thought is derailed by the dog.

Don’t know why he went nuts, but I took the time to make sure nothing weird was happening inside or nearby.

Maybe the squirrel he declared his arch nemesis woke up and threw some nuts at him or maybe that damn dog is feeling as squirrelly as most people seem to be.

There is a lot of fear and ugliness out there and I’ll readily admit the reason those lyrics caught my ear is because some people poked the bear hard enough for me to want to come out swinging.

Doesn’t happen as often as you might think, probably because I am good at venting here or on the court but this time I really thought about unloading upon them.

Probably would have felt good to use my words to let them know in no uncertain terms what I thought but I opted against it because sometimes the most effective tool we have is silence.

Sometimes I intentionally ignore people. Silence scares people, but I like it.

Not because of the fear but because sometimes the way I find the answers to questions is by quieting the noise around me long enough to listen to the song my heart is singing.

The Medium Writing Temperature

Can’t say I need another blog, not with the six or seven I have now. Don’t have to think twice about whether I am overextended because the answer is yes.

But there is a method to my madness and that is to seek out tools and resources that help me become a better writer and to help me reach more people.

That is how and why I decided to test out Medium to see if it is just a time suck or a tool that will help me become a better writer and reach more readers.

Too early to say, but I do like the way the link to my profile renders as a big image here.

View at Medium.com

What Will I Share On Medium?

It is a mix of new and old content. While you are certainly welcome to follow me there I can promise you this joint will continue to serve as a hub.

I like being self-hosted, don’t want to take the risk that comes with being a digital sharecropper.

Anyhoo, I’ll keep posting some of the new and old material there to see what sort of impact it has…if any.

It is a relatively harmless risk, no reason not to see what happens.

The Difference Between Bloggers & Writers

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There are writers without blogs but no bloggers without writers or so someone once told me.

I must have scrunched up my face a bit when they said it because they immediately got defensive and told me I knew what they meant.

Sadly this mind reading ability they credited me with doesn’t work on other topics and in other areas because if it did I’d make use of it.

Hell, a fella could make a lot of money and do a lot of fun things with that kind of magic or so I imagine.

Can’t say for certain because I have never had the opportunity to try it out. Not entirely  sure that I’d want either, sometimes it is better not to hear and know certain things.

The Difference Between Bloggers & Writers

But if push comes to shove and you want more a more substantive answer I might dig into how a blogger has to produce content and make sure the blog works as it should.

Those of you who are long time readers have seen several theme changes here and are probably aware that every time I change something I have to fix something else to make sure the parts and pieces work together.

Ten thousand posts makes that a bigger job than you might realize because that touches upon links, SEO and more.

It means thinking about whether you should optimize old posts so that they work better under the current situation or leave them alone.

For example, my current theme uses a featured image at the top of each page. The posts that don’t have a featured image look a little bit naked  without that image.

Go back into the archives and you’ll find lots of those and lots that weren’t tagged or categorized, not to mention the tons of broken links.

When I started this back in 2004 it was a whole different ballgame and I didn’t think about organization, SEO, monetizing or any of the other crap that comes with this stuff.

Should We Delete/Modify Old Posts?

I often think about what to do with old posts. I wonder about whether I should delete some and or modify others.

I correct spelling or grammatical errors whenever I come across them, but I tend not to do much about trying to optimize old posts for SEO other than maybe adding meta data or a keyword to focus upon.

And of course I do my best to fix bad links as I find them.

As for deleting old posts, well I have gotten rid of a few that were embarrassing or so riddled with bad links they no longer made sense, but I tend to be very cautious with what I nuke and what I don’t.

Those old posts tell a story and they help provide benchmarks I can use to determine if I think my writing has improved and or is improving.
writing_poetryMy pal Mr. Frost and I share that bit about endings in common, I often have no idea where I am going to finish until I get there.

That is part of the fun in writing for me, I take joy in the journey. It is a giant puzzle that I put together piece by piece.

The more time I spend reading and writing the better I become and the easier it gets to put those pieces together or so I often say.

There are those moments where I wonder if the best I can do is spew out tired crap that would be better used to wrap fish in.

Sometimes the biggest challenge is to maintain perspective about the quality. That doesn’t just apply to whether we think our work can be improved but also to the stuff we think is great.

Home runs fall into foul territory from time to time and even the most graceful of us can trip and fall down a flight of stairs.

Ten thousand posts makes that a bigger job than you might realize because...Click To Tweet

And now dear reader let me share another thought with you that rumbles around the old percolator inside my skull.

What would happen if I walked away from the blog?

Would I be happier or more fulfilled by spending more time elsewhere? Would I be more productive?

Would anyone notice or care?

To Be Or Not To Be Noticed

I have said many times I write first for me and then for you. I have shared thoughts about how I would write regardless of whether anyone commented on my posts.

And I have.

Not every post has a comment. Some are orphans that have received no outward expression of love.

But I wonder how it would feel if I found out that I left the game and no one cared. It might hurt more than I like to think or imagine because as much as this is about practicing my skills and chronicling the lives of my family there is something more to it.

There is the dream that in some way this leads to a different sort of writing gig than the places and opportunities it has already taken me.

There is the brutal truth that would come with that knowledge that no one cared.

“Your words don’t resonate or move people. You can’t make them imagine places or people or feel something.

And if I can’t do that, well then I can’t expect to turn fantasy into reality.

A Father’s Truth

I try not to tell my children to do as I say and not as I do as much as possible.

This is one of those areas where it is important to me to show them the importance of not just talking about a dream but of taking action to move it from one place to another.

I’d rather try and fail than fail to try.

A Good Writer Goes To War

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The Shmata Queen once looked at me and asked if I ever held still.

I laughed.

It is a fair question and one that has been my entire life. Sometimes I respond by telling people I have two speeds, glacial and warp, but most of the time I just smile and nod my head.

That’s because I have an imagination that never quits, more questions than a classroom full of toddlers and a need to find answers to all the hows and whys that come with it.

When things are really clicking it feels like energy radiates from me or at least it does to me, can’t say what it is like for others.

That is part of what drives me as a writer and why I have tested so many of the blogging tools and platforms out there.

Granted some of it comes from a love for gadgets and tools and some of it is a never-ending quest to find a better way to tell a story.

A Good Writer Goes To War

I haven’t decided if it would be smarter and more accurate to say a good writer goes to school because every day I attend the Steiner school of writing.

It is where I spend ridiculous amounts of time trying to learn how to become a better writer and a better storyteller.

One of the tools I once used in class was something called Posterous. It was a blogging platform that was particularly easy to use on mobile devices.

I really liked using it because it was ridiculously easy to post from my Blackberry.  I wrote a post called That Crazy Feeling using Posterous and my BB while sitting in a waiting room.

If you don’t want to click on the link you can read the story below:

I have that crazy feeling again. The whispers in the dark and the sense of something waiting for me in the dark is back.

Like an old friend I welcome doubt with a hug and a smile. Call it a front, a clever facade constructed by a man who wishes to pretend that things are other than they are.

The great contradiction of my life lies among the leaves I step upon. I hear them crunching beneath me and feel branches scrape against my body. I have walked through this forest so many times that I can’t help but to be surprised by the presence of things that I have never seen before.

I stop and stand in place, ears straining to pick up on the sounds around me. The forest is a place that guards its secrets well. Treasures and traps are hidden inside. Step carefully or risk waking the demons. Walk with purpose and strength so that those who already know of you recognize that you are not be trifled with.

Spinning slowly I try to determine if lack of awareness is to blame. Perhaps these things were always here and I never noticed. It is possible as is the possibility that these things have always been here.

The forest is constantly growing and changing. Evolution is part of its existence. I am forever amazed by this and touched by how light can impact my view of it.

In daylight it is always warm and inviting, but night time is different. At night the warmth changes and places that never see that sunlight take control.

Are the beings that roam nearby friendly or malevolent. Do they notice my presence? Can they feel the flame that burns inside or is it too slight and insignificant for them.

I am here because I have questions and doubts that must be addressed. I cannot ignore them any longer.

Awareness is a double edged sword. I cannot walk naked through the garden anymore. I am aware of all and the consequences that come with it.

But awareness means that I can revel in life and experience the sort of joy that makes a man weep with joy.

So here I stand, in the center of the forest. When the rage and frustration come I allow them to wash over me. I bathe in them and drink deeply from the cups they offer.

It provides me with protection and with strength but only at great cost. When it comes I do not sleep. For days I engage in battles I dare not lose.

No one can help me, no succor, no aid to be offered. No quarter is asked for and none is given.

Eventually exhaustion sets in and I am forced to lay down my arms. For a while I am too tired to sleep and then I do.

Beloved rest takes me in its arms and as I close my eyes the blackness takes me. I dream of things, of people and places. Blissfully unaware I slumber.

Seconds turn to minutes and minutes to hours. The days pass and I wake up refreshed and ready to resume my quest.

I am centered and focused again. The search for the answers has resumed. I know nothing and I know everything. My heart and soul are scarred but those are signs of life experience. I bear those symbols gladly because the life I wish to live demands nothing less.

It is better to reach fore that which lies just outside of my grasp than to settle for the fruit that has already fallen.

The end
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

A Good Writer Goes To War Continued

If you want to know more about why I say war it is because it is a constant fight to do more, be more and improve upon what I have done.

Some days are easier than others. Some days the words flow freely and others…less so.

But I never quit and I never stop. No retreat, no surrender.

Ask me what the goal is and I’ll tell you it is to improve. Ask me to provide you with something more specific, something tangible and I’ll say 98 Pulitzers and a handful of Nobels.

One of the things I love about this is that it is not like the sports I love to play. I am a better basketball, baseball and football player now than I have ever been,

But the tragic thing about that is I can’t really show you because my body isn’t what it once was. I can’t run or jump the way I used to.

That is because time has had its way and I am subject to the same laws of physics as you. My physical skills aren’t what they once were but my mental/emotional are a thousand times better.

Smarter and tougher, but it happened too late for me to make the kind of impact I would have liked to.

But that is not the case with writing. There are no limitations placed upon us because of age.

broken heart
Those words above resonate with me as a man and  a writer. There is a simple elegance to them.

That is the kind of writing I want for me and to be but with my own style and touch.

There Is No Cure For Blogging

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thinkingforyouSomeone ought to ask me why there is no cure for blogging so I can tell them it is hard to answer something that isn’t really a question.

What the hell does “There Is No Cure For Blogging mean?

I like to think of it as being similar to modern art or some sort of Jackson Pollock painting.

You know, one of those pieces that is a bunch of dots, lines, squiggles and marks that have no discernible order or pattern to them. Not that it matters because even if it did you wouldn’t know what the hell to make of it.

Some expert calls it the most sensual and authoritative piece on post-modern sex and you think, WTF are they talking about.

So you squint and think that maybe the squiggle is penetrating or being penetrated by the dots and lines but don’t say anything out loud.

Partly because you’re afraid you’re wrong and the expert will think you are a fool and partly because it is so fucking stupid you can’t imagine you’re dumb enough to say you think you see some sort of sex act going on in the middle of the page/poster.

There Is No Cure For Blogging

Someone once asked me to describe my relationship with The Shmata Queen and I said, She Bit Me And I Screamed.

If you want to know what that particular line means you’ll have to click on the link and read it. Hell, if you want to know more about a lot of things you’ll need to read some of these links:

Don’t know what you’ll learn or find out but I am sure you’ll gain some more insight or at least some nugget of wisdom that is worth something.

Remember when I said I am looking at new themes that I think might offer a nice look, something fresh and engaging?

Well, I am playing around with this one. Not sure yet if I am going to do it, but I might.

Is it the look I want? Is it the one that is going to provide a better reading experience and more opportunity for storytelling?

I am not sure, but I think it might be. Sometimes the only way to figure something out is to try.

Pull The Thread

I realized earlier today it is about two years to the day since I left Texas.

Hard to believe two years went by, partly because part of it was the most hellish time I have been through and part of it was just really freaking fast.

Don’t know if this was something my subconscious realized or if I know it because Facebook happened to ping me with one of their memory posts but I do know the timing of it is/was funny.

Funny in the peculiar sense of the word because it is tied into this past Saturday night.

I was in the middle of car shopping and something set me off.

Ok, a few things set me off not the least of it was the dumber than rocks sales people who couldn’t answer any questions without the help of a dictionary and someone to pull the string that makes them speak.

Somewhere in the midst of it all I realized that almost every car I have ever purchased has been something that I accepted because it was what I could afford and wasn’t what I wanted.

And I got angry because I felt like I was being pushed to look at the same type of car, the same vanilla, sterile, and affordable crap from the past.

The anger rose quickly because I am not in a position where I have to look at those cars as being the sole or preferable choice.

Doesn’t mean I have a billion dollar surplus either, but there is enough in the cupboard to do better than that and I decided better was what I wanted.

I didn’t have to focus solely on need, I could look at want too.

And I didn’t figure it out until I pulled on the thread.

Truth is I didn’t have to pull on the thread to know that leaving Texas two years ago caused a world of turmoil for me.

Some of it might have come even if I hadn’t, but my gut says otherwise. Doesn’t really matter, can’t know unless you can go back in time in which case we need to make more than one stop.

you can go back in time in which case we need to make more than one stop.Click To Tweet

******

broken heart

I heard someone bash Nicholas Sparks the other day.

They had a host of reasons one of which is they said he shouldn’t have said anything about the leads in The Notebook being ordinary because they weren’t.

I don’t know much about his writing, fact is I saw this movie and aside from the quotes I have seen floating around  it is all I really know about him.

But I do know something else.

Ordinary people can do extraordinary things and that is far more likely to leave an imprint upon people because we relate best to the ordinary because they could be us and we could be them.

Hell, I relate to the quote above myself and maybe that is why I paid attention to the comment when most of the time I might have let it pass through one side of my head to the other.

The kind of love that Sparks is talking about is the kind of thing that leads to an ordinary moment becoming extraordinary.

That indescribable thing that makes just holding hands or listening to someone breathe special is what I am referring to.

If you haven’t ever had it you won’t get it, but if you have you’ll know that sometimes you share a moment where it feels like time has stopped and the two of you are in your own world.

And then it is gone, as fast and as unexpected as it came it leaves.

That is why you need to pay attention.

Fade To Black

Sometimes I wish I could end my post with the proverbial fade to black and some sort of meaningful music.

Something that would make you see or feel something that would stay with you after you finished reading these words and you’d think and wonder about things you don’t always think or wonder about.

There is no cure for blogging.

Drunk on Blogging Or Intoxicated With Writing

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Bradburyonwriting
If I told you I am dying because I haven’t had as much time to write as I want you would probably say I am exaggerating.

And I would agree there is a certain amount of hyperbole involved in that, but I would say I am feeling pressure to sit down and let the words flow freely.

Don’t have time to do it now, just a few moments to post this thought and links to posts I am thinking about. Might write about them later, might not.

Stories that are never written might as well be dead.
Stories that are never written might as well be dead.

But I can guarantee you’ll see a post about an experience I just had, a bucket list moment.

I promise you my best effort to provide something better than adequate about the memories we made this weekend. Got to run first, but stay tuned because it is coming soon.