Feast or famine.

After months of only sporadic freelance work, I’m suddenly overwhelmed with assignments. Of course, everything is needed in short order: A web site revise, developing themes for a training video, coming up with even more names for a food product. I need the work/money, but the feast or famine cycle is difficult to handle. It would be so much better to just get a few small bites on my plate every day instead of going hungry for weeks, then getting everything dumped on me in two days. 

my brain on sand

Almost went out tonight.

Almost. Last week, the guy who’s working on my ancient Epiphone told me he’s playing at some bar with his bluegrass band on Friday. I thought it’d be good to get out for a bit. I haven’t been “out” in, oh, about 4 years. Around 8pm I remembered this was the night I had thought I might go “out.” Of course, I immediately started groping about for any excuse I could find to not go: “I’ve had this stupid beanie hat on all day to stay warm and my hair’s really bad, so I’d have to shampoo first and I don’t really want to go to all that trouble.” “Damn,  the temperature’s supposed to drop to about 5 degrees tonight. That’s too cold to be going anywhere.” “I  have to go to Milwaukee to get my sister at the airport tomorrow morning, so I should get to bed at a reasonable  hour.” But, ultimately, the real reason I’m not going anywhere is that I just loathe the prospect of going out by myself and attempting to “have a good time.” I can’t relate to people in this town, where virtually every social interaction is defined by some sort of understood commonality that everyone’s a Packer’s fan. I don’t give a crap about the Packers, or any other pro sports team for that matter. I’m not from here, and if you’re not from here it’s like you’re from another planet. I can’t relate to the hoary women and the beer gut men that make up 98% of the local population. I can’t even stand the way they talk, with their annoyingly long “O” sounds that make, for example, the word “know” sound like “nooooh.” So, “nooooh” I’m not going out tonight after all.

A murky day.

Half-rain, half-snow and all gray. Had planned to take the singlespeed for a ride today, but the damp cold and the prospect of sloshing fender-less through  puddles (with the ensuing wet stripe from butt to back) has kept me hunkered down inside. Taking my lunch break from a freelance assignment, I flipped on the TV and saw another of those BowFlex commercials. This one  showed a buff guy who says “I’m 49 years old and in the best shape of my life.” The guy truly was in great shape, like all the people you see in those commercials. As an ad guy, I tend to be really critical of TV commercials. The BowFlex formula is the good old testimonial. Ordinarily, my jaded instincts lead me to instantly dismiss most testimonials, but it really works for BowFlex. The commercials show real people with real results — their well-defined, muscular bodies glistening while working out on the miracle machine. For a moment, I actually thought it would be great to get a BowFlex. After all, with just 20 minutes a day I could look like those people! And the rest of the time, it would make a really great clothes hanger. 

First post.

This is it. The first entry. I like to assure you that future posts will be bristling with wit and chock full of profundities, but I’d hate to let you down. Perhaps you’re wondering why I’m here. I’ve wondered that also. I guess I’m intrigued by the discipline of putting into virtualprint my random thoughts and opinions. My mind tends to jump around like a 5-year-old who got into a box of sugar, so this isn’t easy. I’m also intrigued by the notion of an online community and of connections made therein. And now it’s time to shatter a bottle on the bow of the S. S. Scrutineyes.  

Hello world!

Welcome to WordPress.com. This is your first post. Edit or delete it and start blogging!