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Showing posts from 2018

44 out of 50

I'm not going to lie. Well, I mean, I might. I'm a writer. It's kind of my thing. Let's just say that if I do lie, it will be all in the interest of telling a good story. Good. Glad we got that settled.

Where was I? Oh, that's right. The not lying.

No, wait. That's not it. I mean, it was, but that's not....phhh.

Let's try this again.

Hi. I'm Todd. I'm a writer. And this is the obligatory what the fuck happened in 2018 and what am I going to differently in 2019 post that I know you have all been waiting for.

And by all, I mean maybe like 2 of you that were wondering if I would ever dust off this blog and throw some words up here.

To be honest, I wasn't sure I would. Not just the blog, though, I mean the whole wording thing at all.

Jeesh, Todd, that's a bit dramatic, don't you think?

Well, yeah. Maybe. But haven't you heard? Drama makes for great stories.

OK. Not really. But what does make for great stories is people who are struggl…

Digital Detox

Sorry if this is starting to sound a bit like a broken record, but as it's on my mind and as my words are my way of clearing through some thoughts, I don't really see a way around it.

I saw a friend tonight I haven't seen in a good little while. Since at least before the move back in March. It's cool. I got a batch of homemade Christmas cards. Like the batch of homemade cards I got last year and the year before, they will likely sit in a stack in the same place until about February when I will put them in the box with the other unsent cards.

Maybe this year will be different. I say that every year. Maybe this is the year it will be true.

I say that every year, too.

Anyway, in the course of conversation, I let slip that I wasn't on Facebook. Her husband said, "Again?!" and she said, "You'll be back."  Both were said in jest, I know.

Still. It got me thinking.

It's been about a week.  Just one week. There have been a few moments where I ha…

You Stole From The Crippled Kids Jar!?

There's a scene in Office Space  where the efficiency experts, The Bobs, are reading the names of people they are going to fire to Peter and they get to Samir's file. "And this guy...Na-een...Na...Not gonna be working here"

That only comes to mind because it is 2 days after NaNoWriMo is officially over for the year.  For me, it was probably over before it began. I didn't really have a clear plan and didn't really account for well, life, to be honest. As with all things NaNo, there is no one to blame for it but me. And that's OK.

I can't say that I wrote every single day of the month. I didn't. I can't say that I hit fifty-thousand works at the miraculous 11th hour. My logged seven-thousand words clearly indicate that didn't happen.

But, I did have something of a breakthrough this year that I didn't have in years prior. A couple of them, actually.

The first is something I've seen at other points in my life. I need to be around peopl…

So Long, Ass Grape

I am a writer. You can tell by my fancy blog. No, but seriously. I am.  I don't know if I've always been keen on using analogies because I'm a writer or if I'm a writer because I've always been keen on using analogies. I'm not sure which, if either of those, is actually relevant to the rest of this post except for the fact that this post is probably going to be riddled with them. I mean, it's what I do.

Now, if you're sitting there asking yourself what an ass grape is, you're in luck. You'll probably know what it is both literally and figuratively by the end of this post. Now I have to warn you, I am prone to oversharing. My roommate's daughter things that means being too nice, but in my world it means that I'll probably tell you more than you want to really want to know. If you're not keen on knowing the medical procedure associated with removing an ass-grape, you should skip ahead.

So, apparently there are a few types of hemorrhoid…

The Silence Is Worse

I fully prepared for friends to pepper me with the 'Dude, why did you unfriend me?' line of questioning when I deactivated my bookFace account.

What I did not prepare for was a complete lack of response. Of course, my anxiety disorder manifests itself in such a way that I tend to rabbit-hole, a.k.a. overthink, damn near everything.  The meds help on most days. And to be fair they are probably helping right now, because instead of my mind being curled into a ball onto itself over this, I'm left with a thought of Huh, isn't that interesting. No one gives a shit.

And I'm not super upset, but it would be nice to be missed.

Those are the thoughts that ping pong in my head. But then I remember that the Facebook 'feed/wall/whateverinthefucktheyarecallingitthisweek' algorithm sucks dick and most people don't really notice when people that were part of their online life suddenly drop off.

And that's cool.

It truly is. I told like 5 people that I deactivated …

Saying Goodbye..and Hello

For some time now I have struggled with an addiction. Well, several in all likelihood. But the one I refer to spefically in this post is the  addiction to Facebook, and to some extent all social media. Facebook is by far the worst, at least for me.

Today I said goodbye, well sort of. I actually just deleted my account without so much as a ‘I’m running away from Facebook for a while to clear my head and take back my life’ post. Even though that’s exactly what I’m doing. I took the app and it’s dumb lumpy cousin, Messenger, off of my phone a couple of weeks ago. I still found myself opening up both in the browser on my phone. So, I didn’t actully cut the cord, I just changed my access. Instead of getting my fix at home in the safety of my bedroom, I had to go see that skeevy guy behind the bowling alley that always smells of stale kimchee and fresh cat piss.

After downloading my entire FB life up to now, I deactivated the account with fanfare. I had a couple of moments of weakness where…

The Day After The Day After The Day

It’s 3 in the afternoon on a Sunday and I’m sitting in Starbucks.  According the calendar, I’ve just recently had a birthday. My birthday was on the day after Black Friday. Black Friday is one of the busiest days for my company as I work for a national electronics retailer. It is THE day. That makes today the day after the day after the day. 
As I posted already on Facebook, I feel a sense of gratitude and thanks for everyone that took a few moments out of their day to wish me a happy birthday. 
It truly was a happy birthday. I actually started the birthday on Friday, after work. I hit a local retailer for a few records that were released on Black Friday. And I also went to Target and upgraded a particular piece of tech that I had been wanting to update for quite a little while now. The new tech should hopefully last me a few years. 

I spent my birthday kind of just doing my own thing. I went to an antiques show at the Ohio Fairgrounds. I picked up a typewriter and a camera. Then I had …

Giving Thanks

I started to write a post on Facebook for what I was thankful for today. Then something hit me. I could post it there. You would see it (or you wouldn't, depending on where you ranked in Facebook's "You should see this person's post" algorithm). And then it would just fall off. It might pop back up next year or in 3 years as something I remember. Good Lord, if I'm still sucking on FB's teat in 3 years, please fucking shoot me. 

But here, on my blog, I'm free to stretch out, there are no ads to distract me as I type this. My best friend is sitting on the other end of the couch working on her plot to take over the literary world (and later, the literal world). There's a little white-haired, neurotic furball curled up on the middle cushion. My belly is full, and my soul is sated.

Life is good.  Actually, that's not quite true. Life is neither good nor bad, but I am good.

Today I'm thankful for the fact that I got to see my daughter. She has g…

What Is An ML?

I'm a writer. 
If you know me, or have come to know me in the last few years, you know that I used to have a hard time saying that sentence. Let's be honest here. There are still some days that I say it, but I'm not sure I quite believe it. 
Every year, just to see if I can drive myself completely crazy in 30 days, I participate (yes, willingly) in an event called the National Novel Writing Month. The goal is to see if I can write 50,000 words in a month. The hope is that the words will be A) coherent, and B) presumably part of a book or story that I will then go back and turn into something that I will actually let other people read. 
I've been doing it since 2015. 2015 was a waste. I didn't have a clue what I was doing. Again, some days I don't think I have a clue. 
Something changed in 2016. That was the year I found myself in not one, but two writing groups.
And something crazy happened. I finished my first draft of my first book. 
2016 was the first year t…

Lights, Camera...Wait...You're Fogging Up the Lens. Dammit Heath!

Greetings from SkaggleRock and the Gallifrey Annex. It's almost Fall. Well, technically it is Fall, but it's almost that magical 3 weeks in Ohio where it actually feels like Fall and the weather behaves the way it's supposed to in the autumn.

I'd  like to tell you all a story.

The year was 2016...maybe it was 2015. The only "romance" novels I'd read besides the hastily stowed away copies of Judy Blume (because, you know, they were 'girl's books'), was an excerpt of "Fear of Flying" by Erica Jong that I found in the back of an issue of Cosmo. Needless to say, I only really read it for the naughty bits.

And then I met Monica Corwin. She was a romance writer. Prolific as heck, and further along in her writing career than I could have dreamt of being. I didn't know it at the time, but this author and amazing woman would become my best friend.

Having said that, you may think that what I'm about to tell you is just the rantings of …

The Theater of Semantics

The house lights are down. The audience an invisible mass gathered with a low jumbled murmuring sit restless, somewhere out there in a cloud of black nothingness. A lone, bare bulb hangs down, center stage, trying to cast light somewhere. Anywhere. A slight electrical pulse, a heartbeat of electrons, visible to anyone who might be casting their eyes its direction, the only evidence that the bulb is succeeding in its life purpose.

A lone figure comes out. He heads toward the microphone stand, taking care not to trip on the cable going from the stand to some magic port off-stage. His steps are cautious, but fueled by a purpose. It is a purpose he has either just learned, or just remembered. Having forgotten since the days before he was born. His movements are slow, deliberate, some would say timid. The shyness is not all his. He doesn't want to spook anyone that might be in the audience. Be they eight or eight-thousand.

A finger comes up. The mic is tapped. One time. Two times. The …

Collision Insurance

"Listen to Tommy with a candle burning and you will see your entire future."

Almost Famous is on right now. My bestie is in the kitchen heating an IKEA cinnamon roll.

"It's all happening"

I'm going to put a cork in the cerebral spew that's about to happen at any second (likely with the next Crown and Coke). But the cork for now is because between sentences I am watching a movie that hits both nerves with me...writing and music. Something about this movie hits me in the feels every time. Even more so after the 6 days on the Rock and Roll Fantasy Camp tour in 2008.  Holy shit. That was almost 10 years ago.

What's up, Columbus? What's up, Internets?

I feel like there is a muscle that I have used...and was getting pretty good and comfortable using it, and then I stopped using it for a while. And now I'm using it again. Or trying to. Try. That's a fucked up word. But the writing. That's thing. And it feels fucking amazing.

No, my johnson i…

Crushing Self Minimizing

I had intended to write this post the other day as it was still fresh in my mind. I had some rather well thought out points that I wanted to make, but time, as is oft the case, decided to be short with me and I only got the first part of the post out.

I am currently taking a writing course and there is a raffle prize up for grabs. To be in the running for the prize, I need to write every day.

To be fair, I should be writing every day anyway, but this just caters to the Obliger in me. So, here are. The post that didn't happen is seeing the light of day.

I'm not sure it's a good thing, though. Maybe it is, maybe not. It does tend to fall into the realm of trying to deal with the dreaded Imposter Syndrome that is a constant companion to me and other creative people I know.

And bless your heart, I know you mean well when you tell me that I really need to be proud of what I've accomplished and that I need to embrace the fact that I am a "real writer."  I know you …

Resetting The Why and Crushing Self-Minimizing

Resetting The Why

If I am able to string the words along properly and give some kind of accurate representation on this page that bears some resemblance to the dance they have been doing in my head for the last 3 days, then you may well get two lunchtime bloggy blog posts for the price of one.

And I may again be able to stare down a couple of demons who have been whispering shitty things to me from the shadows of my mind.

There seems to be some kind of romantic notion (good or bad) that springs to mind when you tell someone that you are a writer. Images of  empty whiskey bottles strewn about the room. A glass dish big enough to be considered the murder weapon, littered with butts; evidence of nicotine fueled battles between author and muse. Crumpled sheets of rejected ideas you wished you'd written yourself if only to see where the shop keeper's son stored the dead presidents found in the pocket of the banger, dirt napping dead in front of the store on 2:30 in afternoon on a S…

2AM AGAIN

If I am ever asked to write a...what?

OK Fine.

WHEN I am asked to write some kind of article or give an interview about how my writing process works, I might just leave out the part where I think it is actually a good idea to down a Watermelon Rockstar at 1AM on a night where I need to be up just 5 short hours later to do what is commonly referred to as 'going to work.'

And yet, here we are.

Oh, but...against all odds, I am actually sitting at my writing desk (such as it is at the moment) giving you a fresh dose of bloggy randomness.

This is quite unique as it's the first (I think) blog post from the new abode.

It's also the first blog post on this blog that I think I have penned from my bedroom (I'm not counting hotel rooms, and neither should you. Vile things, really).

So, for anyone betting on this...official move in date was March first. It is now June 21st.

I'd like to give a hearty shout out to Summer. Welcome, Summer, you wee right bastard!

My daughter, …

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…