Today was Ethan's birthday. I went out to Brooklyn for it. Happy birthday, old friend.
Wish Ethan a Happy Birthday.
Other than that, it has been a weird and long weekend. Started off with a movie. Meghan took me to see Snatch. A hysterical romp through... well, it's not a romp so much as my vision of what ADD must be like. Fast cuts, nothing quite fits together, five parallel story lines that were written and then woven after finalization, and then filmed, using Brad Pitt's box office appeal in a performance that really ought to rate him an Oscar.
If any of my friends had nicknames like "The bullet dodger" or "four fingers" well, you'd know I was already in deep trouble. But it makes for a pretty funny movie.
Ran into Catherine at the movies, sitting in the seats right behind us. Further proving my contention that there really are only 500 people in this city, with 100 extras that have very easily mutated masks.
I was going to get a sign photo of Catherine, but then I decided not to, not liking the setting and being unwilling to put her to any trouble at all. Plus, since I don't have a gallery for the sign yet, it doesn't make a hell of a lot of sense to be off photographing, does it. Well, maybe a little, but still.
Meghan and I talked until the wee hours of the morning, when I went to sleep.
I woke up on Saturday hell bent on getting some good coding done, and while you may not see much difference around here, you will note that the Brunching Shuttlecocks have been added to this site. What's that? Why, that's content from another website linked here. Part of my evil plan is to agglomerate enough content from enough other sites (like, say duj.org) that people can use this site as their portal. Sneaky, eh? I've also started in on a user-based preferences system, making posting easier (no more having to type in your email address every damn time you post) and eventually will have a few games and stuff. Gotta put my free time to good use somehow.
I've been having sporadic panic attacks about not having a job.
I spent another good deal of time wending my way through predeveloped software packages, hoping for a turnkey solution to this site. Alas, none were forthcoming.
Thought a lot about why I do this site. Is it a journal? An expose? Am I a blogger (no, I do this by hand, and have written my own PHP code so I don't have to use Blogger) or a Journaller (well, sort of, but christ that's not the point) or what?
I think that contemplating my navel too much will give me a neck ache and not much else.
I also spent a good deal of time this weekend trying to relax by websurfing a bit. I read an old piece on Fray about New Years resolutions. Halcyon had an interesting perspective that I wish to emulate for awhile. Getting rejected.
No, this doesn't mean that you should go out and reject me just for fun.
When I gave my grandmothers eulogy, the main thrust was that my grandmother was a taker, and not a giver. Sounds pretty harsh. There were audible gasps when I went up to the podium, said that, and waited a split second for people to gather their senses around what I'd just said. Did he just say his grandmother was a taker? Aren't most people givers? How offensive!
Mind you, the point was that she took time to call, and took time to write, and took time to brag about her grandchildren. But for that split second, everyone in the room thought I was spitting on my own grandmothers grave.
Halcyon's resolution was to get rejected. This is a guy who has a world wide following, is built like a brick shithouse, and has a ton going for him.
It's like my coach used to tell me when I was playing hockey, a sentiment my father would echo for many years after I quit playing on account of my 5'10, 125lb frame - If you're trying hard, you should be falling down. The point isn't to stay on your feet, it's to work your ass off until you acheive, be it a goal, stopping the guy, or whatever. It's not to look good doing it, it's to get the job done.
Halcyon's point was basically the same - he didn't get rejected because he didn't try.
Do you know how many women have flat out rejected me in my life? I mean total rejection? Two. No, it's not that I'm a stud. No, it's not that I'm super attractive or self confident or anything else. It's that I don't ask.
Know how many articles of mine have been published vs. rejected? Three published, zero rejected. Why? Certainly not because I'm a great writer - just look at these pages here. Simply because I hardly ever submit anything, and when I did submit, I was a shoe in anyway.
Ethan tells the story of a friend of his who used to have a job cold calling people. That's a job where you learn about rejection, for certain. Guy never had a problem approaching a woman at a bar after that. Mind you - this has nothing to do with approaching women in bars, or even women at all. This has to do with publication, and a job, and writing and doing all the things I claimed to want to do.
I've locked myself in the private hell of nonproduction, for fear of rejection. I don't have a job because I've only applied for 20 of them, tops. I don't have a comedy career because I haven't put my book together. This isn't criticism of myself, although it sounds that way. It's open acknowledgement of what's going on in my life right now.
So, my new goal is rejection. Lots and lots of it. Maybe I'll open up a "things I've been rejected from today" blog just to keep track of all of the rejection I'm going to get. Only way to ever achieve anything, I think.
Anyway, the Saturday night, I was talking to Meghan again, and she told me I was going to Hell for one reason or another. Which brings me, as ever, to the question of the day:
What is your own personal hell?