day two, thirty-one days of blogging
sunday, january twenty-seven 2019
Okay, so there's a chance that this was a big mistake. I just finished the second-
to-last draft of my CRIM 410 paper and I only have a few minutes this morning before I
have to take a shower, find an address for some MSP correspondence, and then rush out
the door to work. I thought I'd find the time to blog every day, and especially considering
the small posts I make, I thought it would be easy. It doesn't help that it's day two and
after yesterday's introduction I'm already running out of things to say.
I'm finally taking lots of 400-level classes at school and one of the things I've
quickly realized is that they are way harder than even the 300-level ones. And the
reading is insane. I have upwards of two-hundred pages of readings some weeks (and I know
that compared to a lot of other majors this isn't actually even a lot). I'm finally
learning to skim though, which is good I guess.
I really don't know how other people do it. How do people manage a job, university,
a relationship, friends and family, all at the same time? It's really hard and I feel
like I'm reaching new levels of stress all the time. Also, people do this basically right
out of highschool. It blows my mind that seventeen and eighteen year-olds can go to
university and just do it, and do it well. Teenagers move across the country and manage
to get degrees and build lives for themselves. It's incredible, I know I
couldn't do it.
Anyway, sorry for the quick cut-off, but that's my time.
day one, thirty-one days of blogging
saturday, january twenty-six 2019
So I've decided that it's finally time I started taking writing seriously,
and in that vein I'm starting with an attempt to blog every day for thirty-one days.
I guess it's all dawning on me now; if all goes well in my life I'll graduate at the
end of the year and join the ranks of learned scholars out in the world trying to
make a living by writing on the internet. I want to live that dream too. I want to
spend my time in tropical places, and exciting parts of the world that aren't overrun
with other plain white people like me, and I want to write about stuff and not have
It's one of those things I wish I'd committed to five or ten years ago.
As a quick aside, have you noticed that Microsoft Word is obsessed with trying
to add commas behind everything? It's starting to drive me crazy every time I see
those blue squiggly lines underneath a word because I know it's going to be a comma
and I know that I didn't put a comma there for a reason. It may not be the right
reason, but I'm trying to have some semblance of flow here. I was talking about it
with my wife the other day and I think that little suggestions like that have the
potential to homogenize all of our writing, so that at some point everyone's flow
will sound the same. Now I'm realizing that I may be overreacting, but at the time
I really felt that the subtle encouragement--just right click, accept the suggestion,
and the line goes away--was enough to change writing. And maybe I'm crazy.
But there must be other people out there like me that find the little blue
squiggly lines just a little anxiety-producing.
tuesday, december eighteen 2018
In previous versions of the blog I used to write a lot of poetry.
I can almost remember my favourite. It went something like this:
Tuesdays seem to go so slow
Ad breaks on the radio
Cigarette, coffee, fried potato
Steel toed boots in the heavy snow
Why do we write poetry? What's the point? And what makes poetry good?
I'm not an educated man, especially not in English lit, and I've always wondered
these things. I mean, I can tell you what poems I like. My favourite was shared
with me through a copy of the New Yorker. I think it was from a 2015 issue and
the title had salamander in it. I think. It was good and though I've been looking
for the last few minutes, I can't find it to share it with you. I took a photo of
it on a phone that has long since died. Oh well, what can you do?
There's something so special about good poetry and something so embarrassing
about bad poetry. That's the big barrier to entry, right? It's not even a fine
line between the two. It's a thick demilitarized zone filled with the pride of
people who gave it a go. How humiliating to imagine that people are laughing about
your words behind your back. It's a fear that keeps us from doing lots of things in
life I guess.
Nobody listens to the radio anymore though, right? Or watches TV? I had some
people in the restaurant the other day explaining how cranberry fields are flooded
so that the berries float to the surface and are easier to gather. Anyway, I knew
that because of that old commercial with the two guys in waders standing in a cranberry
swamp. I can't remember the brand, it was the one with the blue logo.
Ocean Spray maybe?
All I see now are Instagram commercials for cellphone games. Also ads for
shoes I've already bought.
tuesday, november twenty-nine 2018
Reports that say that something hasn't happened are always interesting to me,
because as we know, there are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also
know there are known unknowns; that is to say we know there are some things we do not
know. But there are also unknown unknowns -- the ones we don't know we don't know.
And if one looks throughout the history of our country and other free countries, it is
the latter category that tend to be the difficult ones.
Donald Rumsfeld, US Secretary of Defense 2002
He gave that in response
to a question about the lack of evidence connecting Iraq and weapons of mass destruction.
As we know now, there was no evidence, and what the US government used to justify the
war was fabricated...
Anyway, that isn't what this is about. This is an announcement. The blog is back.
It's got a new look (entirely designed by me).
Let's see what happens.