3, 2, 1. 1, 2, 3... What the Heck is bothering me?!

This is bothering me so much I had to blog about it.

I normally don't do this. I normally don't whine and complain about some arbitrary first world problem that others wouldn't even consider a problem. Yes I know there are starving kids in Africa, that over in North Korea they worship their leaders and have no voice. Yes I know there are people in Syria right now fighting just to not be blown up by their own crappy government. I know there are problems more significant than this, and when I reveal what's bothering me you may laugh. I'm prepared for that outcome...

Ok, so what the heck is bothering me? This... this is not only what's bothering me, it's literally killing me... (See pic below...)

Cubicles of death. Why do we do this to ourselves?

Ok, so I work full time, pretty slick gig, low stress pretty awesome work environment even better pay. That's all good, no problem there. I'm making more money than I ever have in my entire life and my coworkers are awesome. So you may ask, what the heck is your problem? You've hit the big time, you should be living it up, relishing in your success, enjoying the fruits of all those college late nighters. I've made it...

The trouble is whenever I walk in to this place (Which shall remain nameless) I want to vomit. Not because I hate the company or the work, not because my boss is a jerk (He's not in the least, he's an awesome boss and just all around great guy). I just literally can't bring myself to work full time and enjoy it. The only way I can describe it is a feeling of a very slow and painful death sitting at my desk. I literally feel my creativity leaving me. All of my motivation going out the window, sometimes I feel like I just want to end it all. Like sitting there 8 hours a day is literally killing me. And each day I wake up it's the same overwhelming feeling of dread. Sundays are by far the worst because I know that I'll have to sit another 40 hours of my life in this manmade nightmare.

When I am vocal about this here are the typical responses:

1. You're young. You'll get used to is. (Good God, I don't want to get used to this!)

2. Everybody does it. Welcome to being an adult. (I wasn't born with enough middle fingers to respond to this one.)

3. Well, stick it out. Bide your time and move on when you're ready. (I'm pretty sure feeling suicidal  8 hours/day isn't healthy.)

4. Just be glad you have a job. (I'm very glad I have a job, it just makes me miserable)

5. Yeah I felt the same way, but I just realized that it won't be forever and I'm just looking forward to retirement. (Holy crap I have to do this for 40+ years?)

6. Do what you love. (What does that mean?!)

7. At the end of the day it's about your personal happiness (True, but this doesn't pay bills.)

8. Just go for it, pick up and move, you're only young once! (I find leaping into nothing painful and foolish.)

9. Hang in there! (Yeah, I'm trying. Thanks!)

10. Are you crazy? (Yes, maybe...)

So what is one to do? I leave that question up to you because I don't have an answer. I can feel my sanity slowly slipping away, and while this may sound very dramatic I can tell you that it's real. I feel like I'm destined for so much more than becoming a 60+ year old man in a cubicle with a size 58 waist. I just sit and think of all the things I could be doing besides sitting there, sending emails and waiting for the phone to ring. I feel like I'm just throwing away the best years of my life, when I should be out exploring, learning and changing the world with my talents, what am I doing... sitting. Something has to give. There has to be more in life, and the longer I wait to find this out the worst I feel. 3, 2, 1. 1, 2, 3. What the heck is bothering me...? 

The real world. And what bothers me is that it's like an elephant graveyard. It seems to be a place where ambitious people, once full of hopes and dreams, go to die. Worst of all, I feel it happening to me...

Red

Red

What becomes

Of the color red?

A fiery passion,

No one can contain.

Does it yearn to be

Something it’s not?

A purplish hue

Or a yellowy hot?

Does it desire to be green?

As the wind kissed fields,

In the months of spring?

Or transition,

To an aqua marine.

The teal

Of the ocean’s pristine?

Jet black at night,

Not wanting to be seen.

Or does it simply fade?

Like night into day.

Losing its luster,

Marching endlessly,

Towards dull grey?

Selection from The Satchel of Dreams. Available on Amazon!

J.a. Wine

Switching Gears

Yeah, I'm switching gears here.  Why?  Because I can, it's my blog.  Stay tuned for original material.

The Male Stereotype Intro

In the universe, there's something called "Dark Energy".  No, this isn't a physics blog, but let me explain.

If you subscribe to the Big Bang (and lets not discuss that here) it says that the energy that initially caused this huge event is driving our universe apart.  In other words, all the "Stuff" in the universe is moving away from our galaxy.  

Physicists blame something called "Dark Energy" for this effect.  We can't see it but it's there and it's having huge effects on our universe.  

Geekdom aside, lets get to the meat of the matter:  We've all heard of, and are aware of the female stereotype in media, but is there a male one in the background having huge effects on our society?  In another post I'll attempt to bring some compelling evidence and links to studies done on this (If there are any that I can find).  

Stay tuned. 

The Narcissistic Poet: Must Every Poem be about your Crappy Love life?

"Poetry is Narcissism."  
-- Loose Quote 


A friend of mine said that, and I'm misquoting a bit but it's pretty close.  When you read most poetry out there do you ever ask... "I wonder what the poet was thinking about when he/she wrote this?"  Consider the selection below.  
__________________________________________________________________

I Love You

I see her in the distance

A place afar off

Her beauty ever present

Her skin so soft

My heart begins to race

With the passage of time

As I behold her grace

And wish she were mine

My lips are sealed

My legs grow weak

Only my mind

Is brave enough to speak

I Love you.

She grows closer

A place so near

She fills my heart

And soul with cheer

She is close now

A place so nigh

I could reach and touch her

Though I dare not try

So I whisper the words

With a weak voice of fear

A sound so low

Nobody could hear

I Love you…

She is past me now

A place far away

My mind goes numb

My heart led astray

She secretly killed me

When she walked away

She secretly killed me

And she didn’t even see

It’s a price I pay

As I stand all alone

For daring to say

Words not condoned.

I Love you…

__________________________________________________________

As embarrassing as it is to admit I wrote that in high school (circa 2001) what was I thinking?  Well I was head over heels in love with this girl (Name concealed to protect the innocent).  I couldn't get her out of my head, I would think about her all day every day.  When she passed by my heart skipped blah blah blah all that love stuff.

She inspired me to write poem after poem, most of which was lost because I didn't care as much about poetry as I do now.  

"Who gives a F*** about your love life?"

-- Loose Quote

Good question...

I'm quoting my friend again but why should the reader care if you're hurt, or if you have an intense love for somebody?  Why should the reader care that you asked your high school crush out and she mercilessly shot you down with a chain gun?

Should others care, and why?  Must every poem be about your crappy love life?

The Time

“Excuse me sir,

Do you have the time?”

I asked hoping he knew, and

If he did, he’d be the first.

He glanced at his watch

Gold.

So fancy and new,

And proclaimed,

“Why yes,

It’s ten past noon”

With an arrogant grin;

A cocky smile

He tips his hat,

All the while

Never realizing

The clock hands were

Frozen on his dial.

Without protest,

I thank him,

I politely play along.

For how could I

Correct him

If mine too,

Was wrong?

NBA or WNBA? (Not Another Sexist blog post)

When I say NBA multiple names come to mind: 

Michael Jordan, Kobe Bryant, Dennis Rodman, Scottie Pippen, David Robinson, Isaiah Thomas, and my personal favorite Reggie Miller.  

I can go on and on and rattle off the names of greats that have come and gone through the National Basketball Association more commonly referred to as the NBA.  There are so many legends in this sport alone that it can make a sports enthusiast giddy with excitement just thinking about the flashy dunks, beautiful passes and clutch 3-pointers from down town.  

Rebecca Lobo taking it to the hoop

Now I know what you're thinking... you're thinking I'm going to say that I can't name a single WNBA player worth their salt and you'd be wrong!  Completely wrong.  

Ladies, a shout out to you... some of you can ball.  Like seriously ball with the skill and precision of any of the greats I mentioned previously.  Greats like Diana Turasi, Rebecca Lobo, and Cynthia Cooper are just some of the stars in the WNBA that could most likely take good old MJ to school (Those names were non-google aided by the way).  Actually I wouldn't mind seeing the ladies go toe to toe with the guys in a good game of one on one.  

Reggie Miller, most likely taking a 3-pointer
from another area code.  Of course he'll make it...
he always does

You know... Pandora had a box a lot like this but I'm going to open it anyway.  I want to know what would happen if the NBA and the WNBA were integrated?  Yes you heard me, have both women and men on the same court side by side, teammates.  Sounds crazy?  Perhaps...

Ok, so the differences between women and men are obviously huge just in the way they're built alone.  And I can hear you saying it now.  "But Josh!  Women aren't as physically built as the men, they'd get hurt playing with them."  Or some might take this angle "Josh you're crazy it would never work, nobody would go for that... just leave things alone."  

Nate Robinson (left) at 5'9" next to
Shaquille O'Neal (right) 7'1"

I ask why can't it work?  If it's an issue of the physical differences there are small guys all over the league.  Need I bring up Mr. Nate Robinson?  For those of you who don't follow basketball, Nate Robinson currently plays for the New York Knicks.  What's so unique about Nate?  Well he's one of the shortest players in the league standing just 5'9" and weighing in at 180 lbs.  For reference, I also happen to be 5'9" (ok more like 5' 8.5"... I'm not ashamed) and weigh just 145 lbs.  

Don't feel sorry for Nate though, he's a formidable force on the basketball court averaging 11.2 points per game (ppg) and 4.5 assists per game (APG).  Hardly helpless if you ask me.  There have been other such examples like Spud Webb, most famous for his work on the Atlanta Hawks stood a tiny 5'7" and who could forget tiny little Muggsy Bogues?  Best remembered for his role on the Charlotte Hornets (Currently the New Orleans Hornets)  Standing at just 5'3" tall!  These pint sized ballers have (And had) great careers despite their physical limitations.  

So why bother doing this? Well for one I think it would add the "history" factor that I believe WNBA lacks in it's brief 15 year history, it would also give exposure to some of the league's brightest stars.  But that's just my opinion...

I want to know what you think.. so here are the questions:

Do you think the WNBA and the NBA should be integrated?  Why or why not?  

Are you really a Hockey fan and not care about basketball?  

Why does everything rotate counterclockwise?!  (Seriously it does, try flushing your toilet and watch which way the water flows)

Disclaimer:  When responding be respectful, lets not offend ladies or gentlemen commenting on this blog.  Thanks!  

Kiss Rhyming Goodbye: Non-Rhyming = Angry Rant?

Consider this poem that I'm going to make up off the top of my head.

I think rhyming can be cheesy.

-- If they're supposed to have the best pizza...
why do they keep changing their recipe?

like a pizza that's greasy
It comes from Domino's
Yellow like cheerios
Just under five bucks
but I think it kinda sucks.

Ok awful right?  Now consider this poem I'm going to make up with even less thought put into it.

Domino's pizza sucks
because it does
I hate it because its so greasy
and you never get enough cheese
it's just under five bucks
I hate it.

(Special thanks to Dominoes Pizza for being a good sport.  Seriously I love you... well maybe not "Love" but I don't hate you.)

Equally awful, I highly doubt either one of these guys would win an award in a poetry contest.  But hey the second one doesn't rhyme so the author must have taken more thought and have some profound deepness to his/her words right?

I've noticed in the world of poetry there seems to be this... higher esteem put on poetry that doesn't rhyme.  I've submitted my work to contest and I constantly see the disclaimer "NO RHYMING POETRY" my question is... why?  Can a writer be just as profound and skilled in rhyming as one who does not?

Months later I see the winning entry in this contest that I've been barred from and it's like some 500 line rant with an "F" bomb or two in it with no attention paid to structure and a meaning so abstract that it's impossible to grasp why the poet is so angry or what he/she is even angry about in the first place.

Don't misunderstand me.  I appreciate all poets and their unique writing styles.  I enjoy reading work that's vastly different from my own and have even written non-rhyming pieces myself.  But personally I enjoy bringing a sense of order or rhythm to my poetry and I blame the engineer in me for demanding this out of my work... but I don't see rhyming as the devil.

Sure rhyming can bring along some cheesy lines... (Who rhymes cheesy with greasy anyway?) but if the writer is crafty enough it can make for some pretty profound and clever works of art.

So here's the question:  When it comes to Non-Rhyming poetry what keeps it from being just an angry rant?  

Question 2:  Why do people seem to look down upon rhyming in poetry?  


Feel free to deviate from these questions.

Also feel free to share your Domino's horror stories... (Just kidding Domino's!  Seriously your pizza isn't half bad!)  = )

Choice

I peer down the hallow

Of a long endless road

It don’t go right,

Don’t go left,

And for how long

No one knows?

For miles and miles

There ain’t nothin’ around

If not for the wind,

There wouldn’t be a sound

The sun bakes hot

Burnin the ground ash white

I can’t take the heat

So I only walk at night

With withered legs

That Shuffle through the dirt

Tryin to keep the focus,

Off my bloody feet;

They hurt.

I must keep movin,

Just one more inch

If I keep going,

maybe then…

Sittin on the shoulder

With my face sunk in

I ask the Lord

To receive my soul

And Just then

I noticed a fork in the road

I rejoiced!

Cried tears of sand

Tears of a man

Whose faith had long since died

Yet I rejoiced,

Right then and there

I still had miles to go,

But now I had a choice.

The business of being... Homeless?

I saw this sign today, I had to stop and take a pic.

Look at this thing, it looks as if a college art student were advertising in a faux product showing.

This colorful work of art belonged to a man who was homeless... or so I assumed just by his appearance.  I have a friend who says, you can't judge a book by it's cover but you can get a pretty d*mn good idea.

I stop and say... "Well this is an elaborate homeless sign sir."  And he laughs, I asked him if I could take a picture of it and gave him $2.00 for his time... it just felt like the right thing to do.

As I walked away I realized something.  This man just advertised, got me to stop, inquiring about his sign and he made a sale.  My next thought was... well what did he sell?  And that's what I realized... he sold himself, his condition, his entire being was his product and this was his advertisement.

Time out here, I'm not saying he is scamming people, he looked for all intensive purposes homeless, and I could tell his condition was very real.  He was probably somebody who had gotten laid off and fell on hard times... poor guy.  However he learned to survive and adapt to his new life on the streets by collecting money from curious on lookers who would see his sign and say... Hmm what's this about?   So how is that different from what Walmart does?  Or what Microsoft does?  All have widgets they want to sell and they advertise using fancy commercials designed to peak your interest and say... hmm what's that all about?

Is there a secret code amongst the homeless in terms of how to advertise?  Is there a formula one can follow to be the most successful?  This sounds crazy but I guess what I'm really asking:  Is there a true business model for being a successful hobo?

Life's Random Encounters...

Witness if you will the little guy at the left.  Why is he (or she don't want to discriminate) significant?

Well I was at work, stressing  and thinking about how miserably horrible my day at the office was going and I saw him (or her, easy there ladies I'm not sexist) sitting on the steps outside my work place.

What was it doing there?  Not moving, not afraid of all the "ooohs" and "Ahhs" and the "Look how cute it is!" that was hovering around it's tiny little head.  Just sitting, in that pose taking it all in.  Ok realistically it might have strayed from it's mother who knows and who cares look how cute he is!!

Let me get to the point before I lose you.  I had lunch with a friend today and he said he had the most interesting encounter.  He's single, about 24 years of age and he's one of those real artsy type guys who seems to be good at everything and is completely open and honest about feelings and all that gushy stuff that I don't are about.  He went to a restaurant for... well lunch (Can a guy have 2 lunches?  What's wrong with that?) and he saw this woman sitting there alone.  With guts of steel he invites her to sit next to him and she complies and they hit it off.  Just like that, random encounter which might lead to something more.  We don't know this of course but stay tuned folks... and believe me I'll keep you updated.

The point is... life seems to be a bunch of random encounters, random chances that if we sieze them can become our greatest adventure.  For instance... Mr Albert Einstein (You know Mr. E = MC hammer himself) worked at a post office for a while, no doubt dreaming of things that you and I wouldn't understand if we sat in a Relativity class for 1000 years.  Maybe you're that smart but I for one am not!  But here's what terrifies me.  What if he had not taken his chance?  What if he said... "well... let me just sit on this thing, nobody will listen anyway"  Does it terrify you when you think about how different the world would be today had he made this decision?  Think about it.  If one man, Mr. Einstein, had sat on his gift and had not taken a chance you probably wouldn't be reading this blog right now.  So much of our technology is based on his theories of relativity.

The Bottom Line:  Random encounters make up the world.  You'll know when they happen, you'll feel them; those moments in which your heart says "Go for it" but you'll feel this little lump of fear inside called your brain say "Meh... maybe I shouldn't."  Word of advice... do it!  You just never know what will come out of it.  As long as it's a good thing for you, don't be afraid to take the chance.

...and yes I got all that from looking at a miniature squirrel.  I'm a lunatic I know.  = )

Hello all!

So it's been a while but I'm about to kick this in gear. I just wrote a new book called The Satchel of Dreams that I'm super psyched about, i mean just look at that cover!

It's a collection of my very best poetry to date! 

Although it's only a self publish (no shame here in any way.) I think it's time I joined the community in open discussion of the works of other authors out there trying to find their place in this big bad world we live in. Here's the link to my book because I do want you to read it. I really do.  I wouldn't have put it up if I didn't think I had something good to offer!

http://www.amazon.com/The-Satchel-of-Dreams-ebook/dp/B0086XF666/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1338766347&sr=8-1
Promise you won't be disappointed, and if you are come holler at me, I'll make it right for you.

Stay tuned to this blog for more updates on my journey into this brave new world. Until next time!

Cheers!