Month: February 2019

Once upon a time Kliff Kingsbury said he’d take Kyler Murray with the first pick in the NFL draft if he could. Now he can, and the media is jumping all over it. Nevermind that the Cards drafted Josh Rosen #10 overall last year as part of a QB draft class where the top 5 QBs were being touted as future hall of fame stars (or risky busts in the case of Mayfield and Jackson). All of this points to a central truth: The media wants to create a story about these QBs, regardless of talent.

Kyler Murray might wind up being amazing. The same can be said of Ohio State’s, Dwayne Haskins. Both have long been seen as better than Sam Darnold, who went extremely high last year and is still being treated as a star QB, despite a terrible season (D+ rating by ESPN as of October and he didn’t improve). I still see articles saying the Giants should have taken him instead of Barkley.

It is all about the story now. The media wants to talk about the way a young QB came in and changed a team. It is a story that sells, and if you make a move roster-wise that prevents them from telling it, you are the bad guy.

Even I can admit that last night was flat out weird. The post valentine’s day poem was the clear result of writing all day and being slap happy at the end of the night. Still, you gotta get that out of your system sometimes. I got my latest writing project out of my system. It took longer than I wanted, but I’m officially back up to speed on writing. The goal now is to keep it going–roll on into the next project and keep rolling for the rest of my days.

Writing is my life, but hasn’t really been a lifestyle. I want to make it my lifestyle. I need to do that if I expect to be successful.

Some Thoughts:

1. It was really great watching my boys in the Spartan Race. No victories for the boys this time, but it was a learning experience. It helped them to understand where they are in the athletic spectrum. They aren’t on top. Now are they hungry enough to try to get there?
2. Tried Apex Legends. The game is so much better than fortnite that it isn’t even fair. Not fair at all. Felt like someone with legit game design and writing ability stepped up and said, “Let me show you how to battle royale!”

‘‘Twas the night after Valentines

And all throughout the house

There was writing and playing and

Not nary a mouse

I sit here with words yet to hit the page

It feels like this project has lasted an age

But the end is approaching

The next will start soon

I feel like my writing will start to balloon

By that I mean I will be writing much more

For there are great stories that I have in store

This poem is a poor indication of what

Can be if I give it my heart

The poem comes at the end of a day where

This morning I could not hardly start

I find writers block awaits me when I sit down

And attempt to finish what I dared to start

But I’ll get through it again and again because

Pain is a part of this art

Love is common. Romantic love that lasts is extremely rare. I suppose we have these holidays as a way to further the promise of love and to make it into an act (or action or state of being) that is expected more than coveted. We love because we must love, because to do otherwise would be alien. Embedded in the script of that normalization is a pattern of actions that define how we reinforce and ultimately reward that love. It is a ritual as simple to walk through as dance steps laid out on the floor. You date, you have sex, you fall in love, you get married. You live happily ever after until you don’t. Lately I’ve come to recognize that the steps of that dance do not need to apply to my situation. It is a freedom that can be misunderstood on the surface. It is a freedom that deepens the understanding of the commitment I have and makes me want to dance–to create my own sequence of steps towards bliss–not because of expectation, but because of a shared understanding of significance.

Once I sat at the opening for Matrix Revolutions with a man five years my younger. He told me how important it was for him to be at that film on the first night and he and I both recognized the shared importance of that moment. We didn’t care what anyone else thought about our decision to brave the crowds for a movie that wouldn’t matter to the generation of kids born after 2010. It mattered to us and it reinforced our shared understanding of what mattered to us that we were there. This is how I have come to view marriage. While it is an external expectation blanketed over every male/female dynamic, it holds a particular meaning to me and to my partner as well.

I want to get there. I want to do it right. We are together now because we belong together. Our love is sealed with a kiss. It ought to be dressed in rings.

Some Thoughts:

1. Yes, I did just use the worst version of the Matrix movies in order to describe my understanding of matrimony.
2. No, I don’t want a redo.

I took a moment today to watch happy dog videos as a way to escape the growing stress and disappointment of my daily life. Dogs be happy. Nobody else is. For me the problem is twofold. On the one hand I feel responsible for the happiness of those around me. On the other hand I feed off of the emotions of those around me like an empathic vampire. So in that sense, good vibes in, good vibes out. However, I’ve done very little to promote happiness lately and my own anger towards distant figures in my life (ex wife, mom, certain co-workers) lurks below the surface like a deep geyser ready to blow. To continue this tortured metaphor, happiness is the water that rises and prevents said geyser from being exposed.

That isn’t working anymore. Tide is low… and the metaphor is clearly played out. So, what I need to do is directly confront that anger perhaps in a blog?

So here we are:

I feel like I am the only one working towards bettering my kids in any realistic way. I feel like my co-parent only does what is convenient, easy, and doesn’t require her to risk or waste or otherwise put herself out there. I live out there and it impacts my relationships absolutely. It impacts my life absolutely and causes me endless animosity towards everyone on that ‘side’ of the equation. The fact that there are sides at all is disturbing and holds to a singular fact that I am in the midsts of a fractured existence marked by occasional eruptions as the co-parent blissfully moves through life due to not actually caring about the outcome.

Maybe I ought to not care so much.

The most recent drama involves registration and of course I’m being held responsible for everything. I’m not, nor will I own it anymore. Other people need to be responsible too.

Tonight i sat through a blackout playing cards by candlelight with family and enjoying the moments and reflecting on how much we have become dependent on technology. I’m a slave of sorts to this medium. I don’t know how to act if the blog goes down. I write on some other piece of tech and wait to add the words to this forum. This is how we live now—in total dependence on our modernities to the point where we treat living without them as a hobby activity. Camping, once a way of life, is little more than a chance to disconnect if only partially.

I thought about that tonight and I thought about the lengths parents go to in order to create opportunities for their kids. I believe I do everything I can to give my kids a good life —sometimes at the cost of my own comfort. I know I spend far more cash on each of them than I do on myself. I don’t know if this is a good thing. I do know that I’m the first one they call when things go awry, and usually the only one who answers. I spent time on the phone today trying to help one of mine be able to claim an opportunity that was offered. It requires the other parent to go above and beyond. It isn’t happening. Hardly ever does. In truth I’ve grown so accustomed to it that when that parent manages to step up and do the basic I’m actually surprised that it happened.

I wasn’t surprised today. I was saddened to see my kid hurt and disappointment filling his heart, but it is a lesson he will carry. I carried it myself for years.

Rough day on the planet, emotionally. I wasn’t very good to the woman I love and I didn’t have the best thoughts about people—even family—I encountered throughout the day. Stress has been wearing on me and contributing to a growing negativity I am struggling to understand.

In short, I’ve been a mean and defensive person as of late. As out of character as that seems I am starting to wonder if that is in fact my true (or at least new) character. Some of this meanness is unintentional. Often I’m saying and doing things or entertaining thoughts that aren’t directly formed out of anger yet are reflective of a lack of understanding or dissatisfaction or disappointment in how the world is unfurling around me.

I don’t know where this unhappiness is rising from. I suspect it is directly tied to my stress and self dissatisfaction and disappointment. I missed a writing deadline, I’m behind on school stuff, I’m unhappy and off balance in terms of scheduling. In short I don’t know what to expect tomorrow, because I don’t know what I need to get done or how.

It is not a good week and the people around me are suffering on account of it.

I’ve been struggling bringing my latest draft to closure. I had all of yesterday to work and wasn’t able to hit a good stride for several hours. So far today the situation has been exactly the same. I think I need to acclimate to the space or at least to have the space in the condition that helps the words come easier.

I know, it seems really bourgeoise.

It is. I feel like it could be an excuse to avoid working hard or quite simply about not being deeply submerged in the story. It takes me a while to get submerged and when I come up for air or switch locations or often both, it takes time to get back down in the thick of the writing and to a point where I am deeply enjoying what I am doing. I am no longer the kind of writer who can hop in and out of story quickly or the type of writer who is good with constant distraction.

I don’t do a lot. I am first and foremost a thinker. I create, collaborate, influence, mitigate, and propagate the world with dangerous ideas. I move thoughts from the imaginary to the imagined. This in of itself is a useful skill. However, it would be of more use if I didn’t just come up with ideas but saw them through to their fruition. I should have named the blog that.

I should name a company that: Fruition.

I fear what separates people who have great thoughts and people who do things is a fundamental ability or understanding of how to put thought into action. All too often I see ideas I’ve generated and shelved come to fruition through the hard work of another’s hands. I have no animosity towards those people. Often I don’t even know them and we both wound up with the same ideas, but if I had focused on seeing mine through to the end then I might be the one in position to feel the joy of seeing it done.

This is not a blog about being lazy. Certainly there is an element of that in this argument, but it is not the argument itself. I need a team who works together to move an idea to reality or at least to contribute my ideas to a think tank where I can become a stronger thinker, gain more focused ideas, and make enough money to feel secure in my daily life.

Some Thoughts:

1. Still learning how to grind; how to make the best and get the most out of the work that I do. Once I figure it out I’ll share it with all of you. There’s gotta be a sequence to such things.

Dear Media,

Please stop tying the success of the upcoming Captain Marvel debacle to the future of female-led action and super hero films. It is a false connection that lives in the Tyler Perry-esque argument of, “we only know we made it if our shitty films still break records.” This upcoming Marvel film looks B.A.D. I’m talking Justice League bad, and you know dang well people only saw that movie out of respect for Wonder Woman, to gawk gleefully at Aquaman, and to have grounds upon which to trash talk the film. It sucked. Captain Marvel will suck. I am still debating whether or not I am going to see it in the theater. Why? Out of respect for the MCU and for the hopes of a handful of really good Samuel L. Jackson moments. I have no interest in the tired origin story of a robotic Bree Larson. In fact, I find the retcon personally offensive.

Fact: Comic Book Captain Marvel was whipped so badly by Rogue that she lost her powers permanently and memory for nearly a decade. She was never tier 1. She will never outshine Thor in my book, let alone the freaking Hulk, so my bias is clear. This is not a man vs. woman thing. In truth, I’d prefer they unleash Scarlet Witch (far more powerful in canon, and a much better actress) vs. letting this poorly CGI’d nightmare take center stage for the future of the MCU.

We are deep into a market correction of female driven action narratives. Gone are the days when Ripley stood alone. We know a woman can run this. Last night I was treated to a preview screening on Alita: Battle Angel and I can tell you it is everything Captain Marvel won’t be. In fact, it should not be in the same conversation. Only, it is in the same conversation because we are still operating in stereotypes and divisions and lazily drawn classifications. There is no reason that the perceptions of future success of female action narratives should rely on the success of Captain Marvel. Heck, if you want to play that game then rest your fate on Alita. In fact, that question should’ve already been decided with the wild success of Wonder Woman, the coming (and already obvious) success of WW1984, and the aforementioned fact that people actually showed up for Justice League.

Captain Marvel is a failure before it hits the screen, and that is on the actors and the writers and the director. It is not ‘on’ the possibilities of women leads succeeding at the box office, so stop trying to act like it is just to excuse and prop up a crap movie.