Zombies, Veterans, James Dean, Stan Lee and 2017

So much to my embarrassment while I was updating this blog, I realized that I never actually did any blogging in 2017. I also noticed that I only made a couple entries during 2015 and 2016. Gee, it's like I was busy or something. Starting my own business took more of a toll on me than I had realized. Looking at this blog really drove it home. I love writing. I love putting my thoughts down on paper. It's something I've always been fairly good at. I'm not claiming to be producing some masterpiece by any stretch, but I simply enjoy the outlet. And for the most part, I'm coherent, right? Right?

I promise to do better during 2019 and the rest of this lovely 2018.

If you've traveled over from Facebook, stay tuned for more shenanigans.

On to other things...

The other day I watched the movie Cargo on Netflix. The whole time I was watching it, I kept thinking I'd seen it before. Then it got to the scene after the car wreck (I won't spoil anything.) and I knew for certain it had ripped off this short film I had seen before. After doing a little digging, I was able to find the original version I had seen. Eureka! It was definitely the same scene, though it had been altered a little. I'm too lazy to dig up all the details but it looks pretty obvious at first glance that it was enough of a hit as a short film that Netflix got a hand on it to make the full feature. If you're into zombie flicks (Shout out to Dave!) then it's a pretty good ride. I give it a 5/7. (Imgurians get it.)

This rambling train of thought derailed me into thoughts of James Dean. I remembered a really great quote from him:

I couldn't help pondering to myself, "How close am I?" Do you ever think about this? As someone who dreams of making it as an entrepreneur, it crosses my mind often. There's only so many ways left for us to do this in this modern age. There are no more great pyramids being built. Today we look to our actors, sports figures, rock stars, rappers, internet broadcasters, radio celebrities, YouTube stars, and otherwise financially successful persons of interest found on our flashing screens of light and sound. Digital immortals. Or at least so long as the information superhighway is still traversed by the minds of mortals. This is what we have become. Our lives are compressed into little 5 inch LCD screens and there our memories will live or die. This both saddens me and brings me joy. On the one hand, I know that what I leave behind will be less tangible unless my business is indeed successful and I build a trucking empire. (I can dream, can't I?) On the other hand, I have joy knowing that something like this stupid blog will linger out there for who knows how long to come after I'm dead and gone. (I suppose Blogger could go belly up, but I don't really foresee it happening any day soon, do you?) And I think it's kinda neat. It's much easier for us to pour more of ourselves out into the world than what was possible in those ancient times. We can see the footprints of the ancients, but we have nary a glimpse into what they actually thought, let alone what their day to day lives were about or what the picture of their morning breakfast looked like on Instagram. We can distribute the mundane details of our lives with unbelievable ease. A hundred years from now, could you imagine the unbelievable chronology of life that researchers will be able to dig up? It'll make you think twice about sending those nudes, won't it? (Just because you have the freedom do to it, doesn't make it a good idea.)

On this topic, I'd be remiss not to mention that yesterday was Veterans Day. I have nothing but respect for those that have served in our military and armed forces. I especially honor those that gave their lives in sacrifice for a country they loved. May they never be forgotten, and may they be remembered in greater esteem than the famous people I mentioned earlier. Vets and fallen heroes deserve better than we give them. They always have. That's what makes them heroic. They give everything, and ask for nothing in return. We take them for granted too often, and that's a travesty. 

Lastly, I have to mention that Stan Lee passed away today. I would talk about how sad that is, but seriously, he was 95. The man lived a very long and very successful life. If you don't know who he is, you would have had to have been living under a rock, or be over the age of 80. (My mom's 80 and she knows who he is.) May he rest in peace. I think Mr. Dean would say he pulled it off. I won't get into spiritual pondering on the topic, but just celebrate the success he had in this life. In the world of celebrities and comic book heroes, Mr. Lee was indeed a great man. Excelsior!

Carry on my wayward son

For there'll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest

Don't you cry no more

Once I rose above the noise and confusion

Just to get a glimpse beyond the illusion

I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high

Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man

Though my mind could think I still was a mad man

I hear the voices when I'm dreamin', I can hear them say

Carry on my wayward son

For there'll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest

Don't you cry no more

Masquerading as a man with a reason

My charade is the event of the season

And if I claim to be a wise man, it surely means that I don't know

On a stormy sea of moving emotion

Tossed about I'm like a ship on the ocean

I set a course for winds of fortune, but I hear the voices say

Carry on my wayward son

For there'll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest

Don't you cry no more

Carry on, you will always remember

Carry on, nothing equals the splendor

Now your life's no longer empty

Surely heaven waits for you

Carry on my wayward son

For there'll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest

Don't you cry no more

What's been going on in my head?

Parenting 101 Whatever

Kids are gonna be kids. They will break your things. They will trash things you wanted to mean something to them. They will break your heart. However, you love them deeply. And you miss them when they are gone.

<3 you guys.

Melancholy

1. mel·an·chol·y  

   /ˈmelənˌkälē/
   

   Noun A deep, pensive, and long-lasting sadness.

   Adjective Sad, gloomy, or depressed.

   Synonyms noun.   sadness - melancholia - gloom - sorrow - dejection adjective.   sad - gloomy - melancholic - mournful - dismal - blue

I've always liked that word. I find that I use it a lot when I write. WHEN I write. Which is where I'm heading with this. I think I subconsciously have been using that word because it is something I have felt for some time. How long exactly, I'm not sure. Yet I can no longer overlook that little nagging feeling that something is missing. It's the little subtle hints that have been a constant barrage almost daily. Fortunately, I'm becoming aware of this. Sometimes a song sets it off. Maybe it's an image. Whatever it is that causes my senses to awaken, I am realizing that I must continue to create. It doesn't matter if it's writing or music, my mind must have an outlet. I cannot continue to shut off the flow of ideas or it will slowly kill me. I think that over the last decade I have let myself slip off into complacency, which I have nobody to blame but myself, but I can attribute to no longer being in a band and no longer writing as I used to. My website never got off the ground as I had hoped, partly because I didn't have the time to dedicate to it as it would have required, and partly because the pressure of trying to make it into something decent was stymieing any creative energy that I may have been able to expend on it. So after the music shut off, and the website became a bust, I shut down. It had been a process that was taking place gradually, but that was the final straw more or less. Since then, I've struggled to force myself to write a little blog post here each month. Yesterday, in the middle of a hurried workday, I had one of those little moments of awakening. I heard a song. It got stuck in my head. I listened to it a half a dozen times, and again this morning coming to work. So now I am feeling like I need to start writing again. A lot. I should not let my thoughts go. They should go here, on a blog that is free. So I have no pressure to pay for it, or try and generate revenue off of it. It's just for me. My outlet. That feels right. Maybe along the way, I can finally let go of this job that has been killing me as well. I don't know how exactly to pull it off, but I must find a way to provide for my family that doesn't consume me. I am more than my job. I am more than the amount of money I bring home each week. After all, in the end, the job won't matter at all. It will only be the things that I have written that will live on in the memories of those that knew me. No one will care what my income was when I'm gone. I need to remember that now, while I'm alive.