3.22.2018

I Know You Got Soul

Whenever I wander back over to the shelf that is this blog, I think to myself, "man...I wonder if anyone still reads this anymore?"

And then I see how many days (weeks, months) it's been since I put anything of substance (or sometimes just anything) on here and the prescient words of Erik B come to mind...

"It's been a long time, I shouldn't a left you without a strong rhyme to step to..."

Here, let's just enjoy that groove together for a minute.  Very few other hip hop artists of that period put the depth of the philosophy into the amazing lyrics quite the way Erik B did. I need to meet this dude. I have a feeling he and I could seriously shoot the shit for hours and have some wicked mix tape built up by the end of the night (or early morning as the case may be).


Is it weird? I mean that I see myself being friends with and having conversations with people that others see as 'famous' or untouchable in some way?  I guess it might be. I don't know. I just always figured that things would fall into place to make that happen.  If you had told me 5 years ago that my best friend would be someone who was a USA Today and New York Times bestselling author, I might have looked at you a little sideways, but the revelation would not have surprised me. I would have just figured that by having that person in my life, I had something to learn, and something to teach.  And, by the way, that has been the case. As I look at the people in my life now from the outer, extreme circle of facebook acquaintances, to the people who guard my deepest secrets, the universal connector is all of these people enrich my life in some way that I need. I have lessons to learn or lessons to teach, and we're all in the same classroom for this version of the syllabus. 

It's pretty fucking cool, to be honest. If I stop and try to stare directly at what the lesson (and my role in the giving or receiving), I lose it. It flits away until I'm truly ready. And it seems that the times I am truly ready to learn or teach are the time when that is the absolute last thing on my mind. Then it's all of a sudden like, "boom. wake up, bitch. We gots to go to work!"

Jeeeeeeesus, Skaggs, when did you get so philosophical?!?

Somewhere around my 6th birthday.  Every 7 years, my birthday falls directly on Thanksgiving. I was turning 6. My parents were hosting Thanksgiving for the whole famdamily and a bunch of people I was expected to remember 30 years later at a family reunion when they said, "I haven't seen you since you were six years old."  Spoiler alert: I never remembered them, but smiled politely as though I did. 

So, six year old Todd didn't really process too much about Thanksgiving. But birthdays. Yeah buddy. I knew ALL about that. And birthday parties! While the tone and timbre of the parties have changed for me over the years, I learned all I needed to know about parties early on. They were awesome. Especially if they were for you. And the more people at these parties for you, the better.

Can you see where this is going?  

Six years old. Birthday boy. House full of people coming over for Thanksgiving.  Only I thought they were all coming over for my birthday.  Most of them didn't even know it was my birthday. So, no cards. No gifts. I don't remember if there was a cake or not. Actually, I'm sure there was a cake for dessert, but it wasn't a birthday cake.  Second worst Thanksgiving ever (But I wouldn't know that at the time. From that day until the first Thanksgiving without my Grammy (early in the 80's), it stood as the worst Thanksgiving ever. 

Pretty sure Todd the Philosopher was loosed into this world about 4:57PM on that Thursday in 1977.

And he's been here in one form or another ever since learning the lesson of "the world does not revolve around you, son." In fact, I think that might have been a direct quote from my father. It brought tears at the time (or more tears, as I may have already been sitting on my bed with the Star Wars blanket and Mickey Mouse and Pluto as knights sheets and pillow case set) when he said that. 

The details are foggy. But that's the way it is with our origin stories, isn't it? Foggy until that moment when a singular detail emerges with crystal clarity and smacks us dead in the eye with a "Oh fuck yeah!! I had completely forgotten all about that!!"

Did I mention that this was going to be a fairly random and rambling post? I didn't? Shit. My bad. I thought you might have picked up on that when I went from 80's hip-hop to 6 yr. old Todd. 

Well, yeah. Rambling randomness is afoot my friends. It's probably a good time to go back to your bookface feeds if you want. 

OH! That reminds me.

I'm getting sick of The Book of Face again. It happens about every three months.  And then I realize that someone will only communicate with me through that wretched platform, so I stay. And then about 2 or 3 years later it builds to the point where I can no longer take the bullshit.  The Cambridge Analytica BS has tipped that scale a bit early. 

Here's the thing. I'm not dumb. And neither are you. Of Course livre visage has been mining all of our data. From the day that it opened up from campuses to the public, its model has been to collect and mine as much data as possible. Why do you think it stopped being a university only app? Because students don't stay students for ever. It's a limited data set. And if they are going to make money selling data, they need a bigger pool. Boom, faycebooook is now open to the public. 

Why do you think it claims it will never charge to use the service? Because it wants as many people as possible.  Games? Advertising? Messenger? Video? Marketplace? Payments?!? Hell yes. All data  points.

Within 2 weeks at the outside the book of face knows everything about our lives it can possible know. Because we give it the information it needs. The information it sells. They don't need to charge, they are making money hand over fist by us using the "service" they provide.  And forget trying to figure out the algorithms to actually make it useful for yourself (like say, as an author trying to gain readers).

Do you know why retail stores move product and fixtures around in a store?  Studies have shown that if a shopper takes more time trying to find something that has moved, they will walk out of the store having purchased more than they intended to, even if they had a list.  I don't have the study that quotes that, but I work in retail. That shit is real. 

All the bitching that happens when something changes on the feed, or your wall? Makes you spend more time. Clicking on things you might not have click on in your old routine. 

All of that is to say that very soon I will be looking at deleting my FB account. I don't need it. It's annoying the piss out of me. And the reason I came back to the 'social' media in the first place is no longer there. 

I'll still maintain Instagram (also owned by the bookfacers, but still somehow less evil at this point), and Twitter. 

And of course this blog.

If you're worried that you won't see these posts because I don't have them on your wall anymore, you can do this, right now.

Hit CTRL+D. On a Mac, hit COMMAND+D.  Almost all browsers will save the URL of the page. 

Save it in your bookmarks. Come by and see me from time to time.  I'll be around. 
Hell, you might see me on the New York Times Bestseller list some day. (Spoiler alert: You totally will.)

And remember, if you get invited over for dinner, or Christmas, or Thanksgiving...be sure to ask your host if there is a birthday boy or girl. If there is, bring them a present. You will be the hero and change their life forever, I guarantee it. 

Until then my friends, I'll see you on the other side.

And remember, it's not where you're from, it's where you're at. 


Peace,
AT

3.12.2018

Unforgettable, And Some Release Day Promo

I'm late with this post. The day got away from me.
I didn't forget.
I swear I didn't forget it was today.
There's no way I could have forgotten.
But, what if I did?

As I'm reading through the newest release by New York Times Bestselling author, Monica Corwin, that question is going through my mind.  As I'm reading Make Me Forget, I thought about how my life would be different if I had no memory of the person I loved.

I feel in to this book with a certain amount of smug envy, I'm not going to lie.  As a kid I always envied the older generations as they talked about going to the movies on Saturday for the latest Commander Cody serial film in the matinee. The closest we had to that growing up was the three year intervals between Star Wars movies.

And then my friend Monica tells me that she is releasing a couple of her books, chapter by chapter, on the Radish app.

I fell in to the serialization pit at point. First one chapter. Then the next. And before I new it, I was checking my phone to see if the next chapter has posted.

After the tears and heartache of a few chapters, I had to have the next chapter! If only to convince myself that it was all going to work out between Murphy and Mara.

After all, you can't just forget that kind of chemistry with someone one.

Can you?

I'm going to throw some of the blurb at you now, because I think Monica does a better job than I do of convincing you that you need to read this book. Although, I will tell you that the reason this post is later is because I was busy reading and re-reading, and wiping wet stuff off my screen (eww...not THAT you perv) trying to finish this book.

You really should grab a copy of it so we can have something to talk about over coffee!

And now here's some cool release day promo magic, courtesy of the folks over at Give Me Books!

-AT










He makes me burn.

He makes me ache.

He makes me forget.

Since grade school Murphy Wilcox and I fought incessantly. But one drunk night before my last military deployment changed everything. At least that is what he tells me. Along with the hundreds of scorching hot emails we shared.

Fast forward four years and Murphy is the only connection I have to my past. The only connection I have to the woman I used to be. Amnesia is a bitch but apparently so was I.

**25% of the profit from this book will be donated to the International Society for Traumatic Stress Studies, in hopes that it can help fund further research into PTSD**






Purchase Links

99c for a limited time

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Available at other retailers soon






Author Bio

Monica Corwin is a New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author. She is an outspoken writer attempting to make romance accessible to everyone, no matter their preferences. As a Northern Ohioian, Monica enjoys snow drifts, three seasons of weather, and a dislike of Michigan football. Monica owns more books about King Arthur than should be strictly necessary. Also typewriters...lots and lots of typewriters.



Monica's Author Links

3.03.2018

Hashtag Next Chapter

For the past couple weeks, I have been using a tag #NextChapter on IG/Twitter/FB posts involving my move. The appropriateness of that particular phrasing just kind of hit me squarely in the third eye with a nice bout of shakubuku tonight. About 10 seconds ago, as a matter of fact.

But I might be getting ahead of myself here. Don't worry. Happens to me all the time.

First off, this post (not the content, but the actual post) is overdue. It's been over a month since I've posted anything.

Here's what's funny about that, to me. And not funny in a humorous way, but funny in a 'huh, I guess I never thought of it that way.' kind of way.

Thing is, when I first started this blog (well any of them, actually), the thought was always that I would write them for me. To clear the cobwebs out. To get my daily exercise of the writing muscle as I was also working on the elusive book that I'm writing.   And that might have been how this blog or any of my blogs, started.

Somewhere along the way, I think it became something more of a communication. I'm sitting at the dining room table (yes, apparently I now have an actual honest to god dining room), and I'm writing this to you. A letter to a friend.

At least I hope we're friends. Because if we're not, one of us is wasting the other's time. It's probably me. I get that a lot.

I got a text from a friend. It was straightforward. They told me that they missed reading the blogs. That's when I figured out that they aren't just for me, with you along for the ride. I underestimated how much people enjoy them.

In any event, can I just tell you that February was CRAZY. We're talking Jennifer Jason Leigh Single White Female crazy, mmmkay?

In January, the first day of January as a matter of fact, I found out that I would have the opportunity to move from my apartment in Westerville into my grandparents' home in Worthington.  Since then, the exercise of actually leaving my apartment and getting all of my things over here has been a roller coaster of clusterfuckery.

There are probably multiple blog posts lurking just under the surface of my psyche detailing the ups and downs and in-betweens that my mind and body went through with this move. It was a lot more emotional for me than leaving a marriage of 12 years, if that tells you anything of some of the hell that was playing out behind my watering eyes and painted on smile.

But that's not what this one is about.

I'm going to take you out of the moment for a second. I need you do me a favor. I need you to go over and read a post that my friend Jamie wrote. Jamie is a writer. And she's a friend. Nope. Strike that. She's family.  And reading this post of hers nearly brought me to tears (and coupled with what happened Thursday night, I was in tears), but here. See this link? I'm going to need you to click on the link and read her post. And then come back here.

Here's the link:

https://jamieisawriter.com/2018/02/27/i-deserve-good-things-so-do-you/

Go ahead, I'll wait.

No, seriously. I'm not continuing until you go read it. It's important.

Did you read it? You did? You know I can see if you click out of my blog post to go read it, right?

OK. Cool. Now I know for sure you read it.

And no, I can't really tell if you did--we're going on the honor system here. But all the same, I'm glad you did. It is important to the state of mind I have been in lately. In general in my life, and in particular with my writing.

Jamie talks about gratitude. And looking at what you have in your life. With the key refrain being that she deserves nice things, and so do you.

That resonated with me.

Deserving nice things. For the longest time I thought that the nice things, the good life, those were things that someone else deserved. I don't know what penance I was paying and why I thought I needed to wear the hair shirt, but that was the role I constantly found myself in.

And then Jamie's post kind of knocked the sleep from my third eye.

It clicked.

Starting with the move in to this house.  Then her post. Then seeing Ernest Cline on Thursday night.

It all fucking clicked.

I do deserve nice things. It's ok that things are working out in my favor. It's acceptable to be happy that fortunate events are occurring in my life.

That's where I am. Embracing the change.

And by embrace, I mean accepting it.  It's not easy. But it is really the next chapter.

OH! Right. When I started this bit of rambling, I talked about the next chapter.

So, yeah. This is a milestone event in my life. My last move was over 5 years ago and that was after the second divorce. It was bittersweet.

And in the midst of it all, some amazing things happened. One of those things was seeing Ernest Cline, the author of Ready Player One. If you haven't read that book yet, you need to.

You can read that after this post, I'm almost done and I can assure you once you start the book, you'll want to keep reading and then you'll forget all about me and I'll be sad. And then you'll come back a month later and be all 'oh man, Todd, I'm sorry. I was doing life things and stuff, but I'm back now.'

Like me, I'm back now.

And in the coming week or two, you can look for the following things to show up here:

  • What's it's like to move into your family history
  • A short story about the price of magic
  • A piece on the magic of meeting your heroes, even if you didn't know they were
Along with pieces on what it's like to be a writer, living a dual life as a normal, everyday adult.

Because that's what I am.

A writer, I mean. The normal adult bit is up for debate. 

Until then my friends, have an awesomesauce weekend!!

Love,
Todd






Collision Insurance

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