Tag Archives: no life

Seven Habits of a Highly Mental, Ineffective Blogger

This is in response to: Seven Mental Habits of Highly Effective Bloggers.

Could I do a better job around here?  That’s a tough question to answer, given my horrible living conditions.  No one cares besides being humored then ignored (An Abundance of Katherines reference).

Atomattic encourages discourse, but WordPress is not the place it supposedly is for open discussion.  I try, and many dismiss.  Always some kind of uphill battle…or “fence.”  You try.

Here are seven tips that, so far don’t work well with this blog.

1. Think big.  If I lived the way I’ve come to blog, I’d see some real progress in my life.

I’d also see real progress in my…okay, so here everything continues to measure below standards.

There are small ideas, and there bigger ideas you want to explore (or already want to explore).

However, one of the earliest ideas that came to mind for a post here was how some artists consider the hand the most difficult object to draw/paint.

I’ve had bigger ideas, bigger ambitions, but ambitions plagued with unpayable costs.  (Poor, alone, period.)

2. Stay flexible.  Stay tuned to your hot topics and see what you can do with them. …Black Santa.

I’ve tried.  But besides my interests, rarely does anyone show their own interest with the content.  I’ve even asked questions.  Only when something dies, right?  And I’m not pushing that either.

And race as a topic is a no-go ’cause I wouldn’t know jack about squat.  Spoiler: I’m white.

3. Stay happily discontent.

Answer notifications when you can, but you always have to keep your expectations at bay when blogging.  Technology sucks.

Sometimes I am happy, and sometimes discontent.  Rarely, am I both.

“Don’t pin desperate hopes on anyone.”  What other kind of hope would there be? 😉

4. Don’t play it safe.

Since WP is a place of respect, and one you won’t be suspended the way you could be with FB, you can go all out with what you believe.  But just make sure that what you believe is genuine!

For me, oh, you don’t want me to turn my filter off.  I’ve held back a loooooot of language.  I’m a man of all sorts of wrongs trying to do right!  Apparently.

See: Spare the Junk.

5. Remember how small you are – in blogging and life.

Wow, an explicit reminder of that this time.  Thanks.

“You are not all that.”  Don’t blindly hope for higher stats.

I know of one blog that gets updated only once in a blue moon—three times the Followers than here.  Then again, the infrequency would make subscription easy.

6. Know how big you can be.

Do try for those ‘bigger’ ambitions.  But don’t explode, don’t confuse that with ego.

The 26 Dec 2014 record: 27 Likes.  That’s unbelievable, alright.

Greatness is hard to conceive, let alone achieve, when opportunity so, in general, is as elusive as the bastard mice that keep me awake.

7. Know why you’re here

“… but if you don’t know why you’re here, we don’t either.”

That kind of explains itself.

What Am I Doing On Google Plus?

Now that my PC has started up, after fear that the machine would be in an infinite restart loop with the “Undoing Changes” prompt (an update failed; and an update made automatically while …tethering).  (And beside the fact that there’s been some jerkiness, even with the cursor, which as a programmer I can tell you is troubling.  Just something to expect if you have Windows 8…)

I’m on Google+.

You know, the a service that became free to compete with the Likes of Facebook?  (Google+ has +1s instead of Likes.)  The service that automatically tags your posts, which eliminates your need to use your brain in that area?

Google+, the provider of the Android Authority, that has so far treated me like a Rush Limbaugh fan until it’s established that I’m not?

From Google, the “all-seeing, evil” company that, besides Facebook and itself with its own “don’t be evil” maxim, seems to know everything about you, and wants to cozy up with the government for taxpayer money (allegedly)?

Google Inc., the conglomerate company that bought YouTube ($1.65 bn.), Waze (map and nav. app; $1 bn.), Motorola’s patent portfolio ($12.5 bn., sold for $2.9 bn.), Zync Render (the rendering tech company behind Star Trek Into Darkness, hundreds of commercials), and tried with Twitch (nabbed by Amazon)?  The company that put Quickoffice on smartphones everywhere within months of its news offering (legal, but against the wishes of Microsoft), and might as well be Yahoo’s buyer in 2015?  (And Yahoo tried to buy Google for $3 bn.!)

Yeah, I’m there.

And I’m guessing my activity there can only add to my utterances of “I’m going to hell.”  It hasn’t though, so far, given the strangeness/weirdness of the implementation.  I mean, Circles?  To some that sounds cute, but to me it sounds even more closed off than how Facebook handles its own member grouping.  Closed Circles—literal media closed circles.

And with the inevitable jerks that exist online (already seeing them already! 🙂 ), I can expect a new meaning to the term “circle jerk.”  No, nothing sexual, just…annoying people on Google+.  Move over, ‘Friending,’ I just circle-jerked you!  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

And to spoil my potentially brief presence on G+ (with this post)…

After making Amy my first ‘Friend’ (and sadly, likely the last), this was my first post there (enjoy!):

These Google circle things here are strange.
(Yeah, I’m new here.  And Facebook kicked me out for not proving my own ID in time.)

Anyway, I found another use for a Christmas gift, given my body can’t tolerate sugar as much as it used to…

Chocolate pyramid.


G+ automatically tagged #Facebook, #ChocolateLovers and #Chocolate… So, hey, choco-lovers, does this image circle-jerk you make your mouth water?  No, I didn’t think so.

Thank God, WordPress doesn’t automatically tag posts; ’cause then there would be people attracted via— what else, but Google for the circle-jerking that, here, means something else entirely.  What am I kidding, it’s going to be indexed that way anyway.  Thanks, social media!

Remotely Related Stories

Of Angels Like Politicians

I shout, I pout,
I pace about the house.
But once in many years I walk the woods.
I breathe, and make glance, or two;
what little time spent in the yard.

as if to say I should
be so weary or dreary,
frightened or sad,
depressed or depressing,
hardly heard, or hard of hearing.

And for shame, my mere appearing.

I wish I may,
I wish I might;
here, sulking forever,
so low, as to call it ‘plight.’

So “bright,”
what a future told,
expected, said, rhymed and rolled,
— but like mold,
it ages but never gets old.

Now that’s a word.
a want of a life,
ever, left there like a turd.

Yeah, “free as a bird.”

Oh, you can pray,
or try as you plead, and scream,
each day,
fall, realizing
you’re punching a bag of hay.

How far things stray,
the predictions, they swell, I swell;
none so whole, none forward.
No, no, they don’t go so well.

But life goes on,
yet some still dwell;
of angels like politicians,
the whole world goes to hell.

Can you hear me now?  No.  Of course, not.

Keepin’ Movin’ Forward…in’

Must I keep blogging?

If only the “out of sight, out of mind” adage didn’t scare me enough that I remain silent… or that the content always comes out incomplete… if so much of what’s on the internet didn’t scare me… a tree falling in the woods does make a sound.

Everything matters, but you shouldn’t mind everything.  Examining everything you see when it occurs— that’s like being a spectator all your life.  Or an impoverished observer.

A year to pass next month, August, where it went from the weird awkwardness (I can’t put my finger on it— could be the homeless people?) of the Portland environment to… this.

It takes courage to put your controversial feelings up.  But to continue going?  That’s the real hard part.  And bonne chance, good courage, good luck.  It certainly takes the knowing that sites like Google, like Facebook censors and will sell your information to people you’ll never know to never move to Blogger.

You have to build a reputation (or better— already have one).  Popularity requires consistency, and you’ll get the wrong people if you could care less about the integrity of your beliefs.  Those that believe nothing believe everything.

In the general sense of this fast-paced world, you have to think on your toes and not get lost, not get ahead of yourself.  On the interwebs, you have to click and type fast enough… again, without getting ahead of yourself.

Despite my own incompatible views, you shouldn’t bottle crap up that’ll tear you to pieces.  I may remain an easy target so easy that no hater dare bothers (or that libertarians in general are seen as beyond crazy), but you have a chance, having not exhausted everything before becoming ready for the world like me.  You stand more a chance.

Speak, child.

I be distant to a degree but me don’t give up on the big picture; me don’t give a rats ass ’bout what the false things yous call me.  I may say I have no hope or faith (don’t forget “broekn”), but I have determination, less fear… and chocolate.  If only it didn’t seem like I have to bottom out.  Nothing drug-related— hopped up on emotional crap, I think.  And chocolate.  Evs.  (Sick— ‘whatever’ reduced to ‘evs’ now.)

Must I keep going?  No.  But I just do.  I could pack up and leave, easily.  But I just keep moving forward, not knowing what tomorrow will bring… or not bring because I’m an impoverished observer.  And I can’t literally move place-of-stay-wise ’cause I don’t have any money and can barely cross the street.

Novice No Voice

I can’t help it.

After zero hits here and there, I miss another whole week, miss all of the windows of opportunity to advance anywhere online.  And then I fail to carry my passwords with me.  I’d be entering the name and e-mail for a comment but for my WordPress account’s protection… no, no, I needed that password that you can hardly memorize.

But, of course, alas, an ass, and sweating in my sleep these days (it’s Summer), I did get to catch up on some TV shows.  I got into Supernatural, naturally.  So much so that the daily TNT 9-12 rerun block serves as a major replacement for the Glenn Beck radio progra— whoops, I shouldn’t have mentioned that I tune in… occasionally… and like everything else neglect my listening…ship.

It doesn’t help me revealing ‘political’ things— Pags was on this morning— about myself, after wearing away my perceived credibility.  Neither the time nor the health to back up everything said me has… though everything of serious subject matter brought up is based in fact.

So… there’s only that element of trust, it seems.  I’ve never gotten any of that hate/trolling.  But that wall of silence— certainly.  I always have silence going for me.  And that kills me.  It literally kills me.  How many months do I have left, doc?  Oh, that’s right, I have no insurance.

It’s 2013 and still, nary a voice.

Alternatively, you could follow Ian Punnett’s twitter, @deaconpunnett.  Ending his gig on Coast To Coast AM this morning due to tinnitus, he still has more a voice than this so-called person, sitting here.  On 1-5 a.m. EDT, having to sleep (go figure), I managed to catch the last ten minutes, his comments, his swearing that some of the read radio commercials over his more than a decade on the program were parodies…

Or you could start a comment war conversation over Supernatural, where Jensen Ackles, 35, is still doing his gravelly voice, with a season premiere this October 15 (CW network).  He shaved his beard, and will act as if he isn’t married.

Whatever.  Willing but incapable, I guess I’ll just go back to my hole fixing software bugs.  Not even internet access beyond here or there; it’s too easy to miss a whole week, and… well, that’s what happened.  Again.  And then I hit publish, more crap information that no one hears.  Write Like You Give a Shit.  Uhm, sorry, that’s too exhausting.  Again.

I can’t help jack… unless jack asks.  Jack asks, jackass; tomato, tommato.

What’s this guy’s problem?

MIA?  No, I give up.

Have I been Missing in Action?

Nah, this isn’t action.  It’s still work, though.

After getting zero hours sleep for a day or two—and I mean zero, finishing all of the necessary parts of the 6502 assembler for results (semi-)professional, releasing the next version of the NES emulator, still baffled by the timing issue for that triangle sequence in the Test Cartridge…

…After finding out that Nichole Cable was already dead… watching the already-end of this country unfold as students coming out of Princeton know nothing, the history teacher a self-avowed Communist and no one cares.  …Or knowing that one of the followers expect me to put up here what would probably kick me off WordPress, given pages/people being kicked off FaceBook for dissenting— even for things so little as calling White House Liar Jay Carney names…

I saw Girls for the first time.  I mean, Hannah went from kind’a innocent to craaaazy.  And Shosh is still a virgin?  OMG!  WTF!  GGP!  NO?

Oh… Gauhd.

I wanted to just come here and say I’m through, done, going to delete this account, but…  I mean, I would definitely do it if… there was somewhere else to speak and actually be heard.  (And that’s if I’m heard here.  And I thought yesterday was June 1.)

One month, dropping the ball, reading very little, after saying… that month ago that I take my reading seriously.  I mean, seriously.

I try to catch up, but frickin’ WordPress won’t let me scroll any further.  So I can’t know much more than what I get in the limited e-mail updates.  Sorry about that— maybe do my own Carnies’ Corner so you can tell me what to read, or at least what I’ve missed? … No?

Sigh.  And so, ending this next single-page chapter in this non-life, I say I give up, but like Al Pacino, “it keeps pulling me back in.”  Or as with StuntedAdults, it’s an abusive relationship.  An exaggeration, I know, but…

Whatever.  The generation-aleph (after X, Y, Z… no— double A?) common word.  “Screw you guys, I’m going home.”  Followed by, “Don’t hurt me!”  Followed by Shimky.

Update: typed ‘Rosh’ instead of ‘Shosh.’  Can’t do things on the spot = not a blogger.

A Rich Poor Man

‘One who makes his own time is truly a rich man.’

The closest I could remember, from Henning Mankell’s Wallander: “The Leak.”

But I have no control.  Work with no pay.  “Too much time on my hands” and busy.

(Of course that expression had more to do with self-reliance, but on with my blather…)

I could watch the following episode of Wallander, “The Sniper.”  Or, the latest episode of Mad Men.  But not both, no.  AMC often comes in loaded with interference— one of the high channels.

I could relate with about no one watching the Swedish former, which includes dates going back to 2008, or I could relate with the wrong people with the latter, now or never, watching something that even Entertainment Weekly is finding a bit not-so-fresh.

(And by “relate with the wrong people,” I mean, come on— you should get by now how I refuse to be a cog in the system so I could be a “real” person.  A cubicle?  @$%# !  (And that’s if I’m lucky!) )

My mother then wanted to flip a coin over the two.  I hate that.  I absolutely hate that.  Subjective “random” to fix a more-or-less superficial problem caused by the fact that no one in this real dump of a house is responsible, one reason or another.

I could and would instead take that hidden third, persistent option, and just drop out, go back to the software I work on again.

Once something fails, usually when not if, where it becomes exhausting or dishonest, I end up going back to that outset option.  More used to it, more in my nature.  After all, it’s the only goddamn control I have.

I’m not lazy.  I refuse to kill myself doing nothing.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no nerd— if you went into Dungeons and Dragons, World of Warcraft or other “nerd stuff,” I wouldn’t know what you’d be talking about.  Then again, I know nothing.

But don’t get me wrong the other way too— seeing the 11:11, the ‘reminder’— “hold onto that thought” lately, the kinds of thoughts that roll around in my head at those times: trite technical things, like 24-to-30 frame-per-second conversion, duplicate every fourth frame.

It’s this lifestyle, the same insecure, empty blah, where doing anything else means “getting nowhere.”  There’s too much risk going forward alone with no other skill. No control but that.  Dead in the water (not a title), etc.…

Now with an even narrower “schedule.”

I could cover The Ends of the Earth (also not a title)… or sheer stupidity, as blogging (blahgging) still becomes one of those distractions at best in my résumé-free, criminal record-free prison life.  What’s the use of keeping up with what I don’t need to keep up with?  You don’t need me, do you?

I end up posting to combat the silence on my part.  Or rather, silence here, as I cover the “general” news on the other site…

Yeah, in obvious need of help, but I can only do what I do…

Not to be.

What am I kidding?  I can’t be!  That absence hole is deep.
You aim to fill that horrendous hole, but instead you lose sleep.
More of that absence, a weather delay, and subsequent President’s Day…
“Better than I was before,” —no, you’ve really gone more astray.
Such absence, and still a dependent with damn unreliable phone…
“Hey, Dakota Fanning’s role in Now is Good didn’t die alone!”
Well, there is no truth beyond this point without some long, drawn out story.
I have tried.  I have spent several days on that.  It gets ugly fast.
“This is where ‘faith’ is crushed by the weight of lost time.”  Sounds happy, right?
If it wasn’t for quality control, my abbreviated life story would still be here.
(And it was here.  I wrote it.  And then I went to sleep after ten… a.m.)

I don’t want to die alone.  There, I said it.

Finally.  And it only took several days of drafts for other things that eventually got scrapped to reach this point.

Yeah, yeah— I know most people would say they don’t want to die alone either.

…Should I say more?

It’s been over a year since I kicked off a larger presence, and… emotionally “cratered” over how I saw myself, and faced a near-black hole of aloneness.

Continue reading I don’t want to die alone.  There, I said it.