You ever wonder…

1)…why, of all the hundreds of shopping carts at the grocery store, you always manage to get the one with the bum wheel? I was in the store yesterday, trying to figure out what sounded good to eat (see #2), and I had too much stuff to carry. So I went back up and grabbed a cart and got, apparently, the “lucky” one with the bum wheel. I see everybody else pushing their cart in comfort while I got the one that pushes out of the corners and gets loose on the straight-aways. What’s up with that? It’s enough to make me wanna put somebody into the wall when they try to pass me.

2)…why what sounds good in the grocery store never sounds good when you get home? I bought spaghetti stuff, eggs & bacon, frozen pizza, and ice cream, and ended up eating canned soup that I already had laying around. In fact, I went all day yesterday without touching anything I bought at the store. I totally suck at shopping, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, I guess. If/When I get married and fail a few times at it, the wifey will never send me out shopping again.

3)…what the population would look like if college students were a representative sample? First, we’d all be unhealthy. I teach a few media classes here and there, and I get kids saying they’re sick all the time. If my classes were a representative sample of the whole population, 40% would be under the weather once every couple of weeks, and 15-20% would have been in the hospital sometime in the last four months. In addition, 20-40% would have to attend a funeral, and 10-15% would have had a horrible break up that would prevent normal functioning. Then again, I may just be a crappy teach.

4)…why it always seems like you’re trading one set of worries in for another? I just completed my thesis for the master’s program that I’ve been working on (both the thesis and grad school, actually) for the past couple of years , and that was my last obstacle in the way of graduation. So after tons of rejoicing over completing one task, it dawned on me yesterday that I don’t have a job yet. Now I’m worried about that. It’s like when the thesis was done, God said, “Hey punk, you’re ready for life” (yes, God calls me a punk, but I’m cool with it). I said, “A’ight, God, lemme at it.” And there’s nothing to go at. It wouldn’t be so bad if I knew God called me to sit on my laurels and do nothing for the rest of my life (because a laurel is a good place to rest), but somehow I highly doubt that’s the case.

Although, if anyone is looking for a good laurel rester, I’ll gladly email you a resume.

Construction Work

In the book The Conduct of Inquiry: Methodology for Behavioral Science (San Francisco: Chandler), Abraham Kaplan (1964) advances the law of the instrument, saying “give a small boy a hammer, and he will find that everything he encounters needs pounding” (p. 28). The past few days, I’ve been pondering the whole blogging concept in much the same way, and not just because I’ve been told I behave like a small boy. If you get the chance to talk to any media scholars (I have to, being a media major), the great thing about the Internet is the seemingly endless amount of space available for messages. Broadcasting media are limited by time, and traditional print media are limited by space; however, the ‘net bites its thumb at both time and space. Taking both tenants into account, you should be getting an image of a small boy holding a hammer looking at an infinite row of nails, and wondering which ones to pound.

Traditionally (least, from what little research I’ve done on the subject), most like to hammer nails into the events of the day. This works well for people who have noteworthy things happen to them on a daily basis. In a recent episode of House on FOX, Dr. Chase asks Dr. House, “How would you like it if I interfered in your personal life?” House skillfully replies, “I’d hate it. That’s why I cleverly have no personal life.” I, too, cleverly have no personal life (at some point I may be bold enough to ask if any ladies want to change that, but I don’t proper forms ready to take applicants yet). Others make a living hammering on a specific type of nail, as they’ve been dealt a specific type of hammer.

For me, I think I’ll just close my eyes and start whackin stuff. In fact, in my trusty tool belt, I also have a screwdriver I can use to twist things (least, I’ve been told I can screw people, but I’ve yet to find out if that’s with a flat head or a Phillips), a level I can use to make things straight (rumor has it there are crooked things in the world that need fixing), and a tape measure useful for sizing things up (I feel like the statement “Just how big a boy are ya?” should go here); all of which are very useful tools for a guy attempting to build the house of life.

Thus, in the upcoming days, weeks, months, years, or whatever, I pledge to myself to use this space as an outlet in which to plug my philosophical appliances. Considering the small assortment of tools I’ve been able to acquire (college kids are poor; we can barely afford food, let alone tools), I doubt I’ll be able to build the large extravagant “mansions” like the others who have power tools at their disposal, but I pledge to myself to have the coolest “dorm room” ever. No repair too big, no modification too small, no task too difficult to at least attempt to conquer.

The great thing about this virtual house I’m building is that the door’s always open. So, for all who wander by, stop in, say “Howdy” (or “hey” or “yo” or whatever expression you use in your native dialect), get acquainted, and don’t be afraid to make suggestions of stuff for me to do. You’ll like me better if I put up the decorations you like, and I’ll like me better if I do stuff to make you happy.

Mark Antony Dingdong

Friends, Bloggers, countrymen, lend me your screens;

I come to bury myself, and praise those around me;
The evil that men do lives after them,
The good is oft interred with their blogs,
So let it be with me.

My noble friends have me I am ambitious,
If it's not so, then this endeavor will be a grievious fault,
And grievously will they mourn it.

Here, under the rest of Shay, AM, and the rest--
For Shay and AM are honourable men,
So are they all; all honourable men--
Come I to speak.
I speak of my friends, my faith, and just me.
But Shay and AM say I am ambitious;
And Shay and AM are honourable men.

I hope to bring many captives to my blog
Whose minds my general thoughts and insights fill.
Does this seem ambitious?
When that the poor have cried, I too have wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
But Shay and AM say I am ambitious;
And Shay and AM are honourable men.

You all do see that on various boards and blogs
I have posted thoughts and insights,
And thrice have been persuaded to commence my own kingly realm,
Which thrice have I refused: was this ambition?
Yet Shay and AM say I am ambitious;
And, sure, Shay and AM are honourable men.

I speak not to disprove what others speak,
But am here to speak what I do know.
I may have loved once, not without cause:
What causes me then to love or laugh or mourn?

O judgement! You've been fed to brutish beasts,
along with sound reason. Bear with me;
My life is out there somewhere
And I must post till it come back to me.

--adapted from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar