Things to Do in 2012 (For Me, But I Guess You Too)
Can’t Stop This Karate ‘Cuz This Karate Don’t Stop.
And we’re back.
Some of you may have noticed that my output decreased sharply from a bunch to zero, and I apologize for that. Every electronic device that I owned decided to shit their own beds within a week of each other and thus I was unable to produce at a level of quality that I wanted.
My fart jokes and erotica must never, ever, be cheapened.
One of the many unfortunate side effects of my extended break was all that brainspace and all those wonderful neurons used to come up with creative swears for Michael Bay and to talk shit about people much more talented and richer than I got moved to other projects. Such as finding pornography when one does not have a computer.
Mercifully, I can now get back to it with a shiny new laptop, as pleasuring myself while trying to hold a smartphone in position is not a skill set I’d like to add to my wheelhouse. Oh, and writing. I can get back to writing. But mainly the pornography.
What I’m trying to get at is: the road back to what passes for my normal is going to be slow going and today we’ll be starting with a big ol’ cop-out entry.
Things I Want to do in 2012
I don’t like resolutions. Mostly because I’ve never, ever, in the entirety of my life, seen one through to it’s logical and/or natural conclusion. It’s hard.
What am I capable of? Doing Stuff.
Resolutions are grand sweeping changes. One enacts them when one is making broad sweeping changes to their entire life.
Yeah, fucking, right. We are creatures of routine. We are designed to conserve energy whenever possible because you never know when a blizzard will wipe out the crops, or a sabretooth tiger shows up to eat you, or vikings will land on the coast and start working their way in toward your village. That’s not really the case anymore but it does make exercising or reading more a lot harder.
So rather than make a list of lofty resolutions that I’m unable to perform, I’m going to put down some stuff I need to fold into and make a part of my everyday life because at some point I need to stop being a shitty human being.
Put Together an Acceptable Writing Portfolio - Did you know that most agencies in Los Angeles have special ejector seats or trapdoors for those times that potential clients are so awful that they must be removed as quickly and hilariously as possible? These are the fun things you learn when the first words out of your mouth after you sit down are, “well, I work mostly in the field of Michael Bay Fan-Fiction.”
Not that I’m ashamed of my work in any way, but it’s honestly pretty hard to gauge someone’s ability, not in just terms of style and voice, but in output, working with others, incorporating notes, and adherence to industry style guidelines from a blog.
Actually Show Said Portfolio to People - It’s easy to talk a good game when you don’t let people see what you’re doing. You can be as talented as you want, but you know how undiscovered geniuses die?
Start Looking People in the Eye - I have very low-grade social anxiety disorder, which most of the time means I don’t like crowded bars or going to the mall. This is why I usually research the living hell out of whatever I’m thinking of purchasing then go to the place that has the item, buy it immediately, and then leave. It has, at best, turned me into the most efficient shopper known to man or god, and saves me a fortune on booze at bars.
At worst, it feels like my skeleton wants to jump out of my skin and that subconsciously everyone wants to kill me by smothering me.
Attacks like that are rare, and I get along without medication, but another side effect besides knowing where exactly everything is at Target, is that a lot of the time, it’s much easier for me to carry on conversations without looking at people.
Unfortunately I’ve reached that age where my situation stops being, “he’s just shy,” and quickly becomes, “he’s obviously a serial killer.”
Plus, I come off pretty disingenuous when I thank waiters for refilling my water and I don’t even look at them.
Hone My Very Being into a Killing Edge - that just sounds way cooler than “get into shape.”
What does that even mean, get into shape?
Shape for what?
What’s the threshold we’re looking at?
Like in good enough shape to bring down an NFL running back moving at top speed? Clean and press 400 pounds? Swim like Michael Phelps? It’s vague and specificity is key, especially if you’re going to be devoting time and effort towards a goal.
However, a ‘killing edge’ means you’ve devoted your entire being to existing as a killing machine. We all know what a killing machine is; it’s a machine that kills.
Grab Some Boob - Guys, it’s been a while.
Swear Less - if we’ve ever spoken in real life, then you know I treat fuck like punctuation. I use it in every sentence most often to establish tone.
Cleaning it up would alleviate some of the anxiety I feel when in polite company and I have to focus on. every. word. I. say. to. make. sure. an. errant. fuck. does. not. sneak. out. I feel a second and half behind any conversation and that’s just not fun.
Also, I recently told an old friend about my blog and, full disclosure, I looked back through some of my stuff to try and see what he might like, because I got ego like that, and I noticed the swearing. It was everywhere. It slowed down my reading of it. It drew too much attention to itself.
I had a writing teacher that told me (and my class, I guess), ” excluding dialogue, you get exactly one exclamation point a year. That may be one too many.” Her point being, that exclamation points are a crutch used to drive attention to something or force importance onto a point, but a good writer shouldn’t need those things. In dialogue, the exclamation point signifies someone’s raised their voice, or they are excited. It serves a purpose that is unnecessary in strict prose.
Swearing’s the same way. Maybe it helps to build a character or show frustration or excitement. In dialogue anything goes. Fragments, run-on sentences, and every other thing you got nailed for in English class, but in strict prose we should hold ourselves to a higher standard.
I’m not turning my back on all the fucks, shits, bitches, and goddamns forever, just reigning it in a bit.
Kill a Ninja
Because if you do, you become one.
Get a Sweet Tracksuit like Bruce Lee had in ‘Game of Death – ‘ This is really more of an addendum to some other things on this list, because it’s what I’d wear when I finally killed a ninja.
Yes, I would hunt and stalk a shadow warrior in bright yellow SO MUTHAFUCKAZ WOULD SEE ME COMING.
How long was that without swearing?
The other addendum, is I’d need to have already turned my soul into a dagger to be in the shape to properly pull of this suit. Elastic cotton is somewhat unforgiving on fat guys.
We’re back. I’m going to try to post twice a week, and we’ll go from there.