Yes I read my own blog sometimes. It’s not because I’m so in love with myself that I have to experience my own awesomeness a second time around. And no it’s not because I’m incredibly bored and have nothing to do. It’s not like I read everything. Sometimes when I’m doing pingbacks or editing old posts I sit there and go over what I’ve written. I remember things about as well as Dory does so sometimes I need to refresh my memory about what I’ve already written about. So for the sake of getting more thought garbage out I decided to summarize my blogging experience thus far.
It’s just another persona
Argue as much as you want, a blog is not mirror image of your persona. It’s just yet another extension of your personality. A blog can be a very close reflection or a wildly contrasting side of your true self. It’s all about what you want to get out of it. I started blogging to clear my mind of excess clutter but it’s mutated into something more. I have a very warped train of thought and twisted sense of humour that apparently appeals to some. I am an entertainer. I’ve always been that way. The joke maker. The proverbial life of the party. I enjoy entertaining on multiple levels but I still very much write for myself. The twist is that I try to make what I talk about somewhat appealing to the masses. There are those who know me like a book and those who stumble upon this wasteland. From the outside looking in I come off as an egomaniacal, super geek with a heart of gold who needs his mouth washed out with soap. Some people drink that in and take it for what its worth. Those who have the luxury of being able to match the truth against the show are awarded a much more enjoyable reading experience.
I don’t subscribe to your reality
Just because I don’t subscribe to blogs doesn’t mean I don’t read them regularly. I’m sorry. I just don’t subscribe to many blogs and even when I do I turn off all the notifications. I don’t like being told when I should read. I read when I want to at my own pace. My place of honor lies in the blogroll. I don’t just dump anyone there all willy nilly. People on that VIP list have earned their spots there. If I haven’t been to your blog more than 3 times you don’t get listed. In the world of the Zen Assassin the authors found on the roll are people I respect and follow religiously. I spread their words to weary travellers who happen upon my blog through that prestigious link. It’s my way of paying homage to them. That it why they are referred to as The Worthy. So don’t get offended if I don’t click a subscribe button. Get offended if you’re not on the Guest List. *nyuk nyuk*
Not everyone is a douche
I feared blogging for a long time. It reeked of pretentiousness. Admit it. If you’ve never blogged before and someone tells you “hey check out my blog” you cringe in disgust and think to yourself you pretentious little motherf*cker. I openly admit that was my mindset prior to getting involved. After all just about anyone can be a food or movie critic because they have a blog, right? However since entering this strange and addictive world I’ve come to understand that the egotistical, self-serving, c*cksmoking attention mongers are in fact the minority. The vast majority of bloggers are just decent everyday Joes and Janes with something to say. Unlike Facebook and Twitter where it’s a competition to see who can have the most grammatically flawed tweet or wittiest status message bloggers tend to have one inescapable commonality – they like to write for the sake of writing. Sure some have diatribes of rambling nonsense *ahem* but in a world as large as ours there’s something for everyone out there. I’ve met some pretty extraordinary people during my stint here and absolutely regret not diving in sooner.
Commenting here will make you a God-hating atheist, give you the clap, cause pain, suffering, instant death and send you straight to Hell
… or at least that seems to be the stigma attached to my blog. No one comments. I for the life of me can’t figure out why. I haven’t placed the impaled bodies of those who have commented in the past on my doorstep. I love comments. It lets me know I’m just not talking to myself as usual. I have a very loyal following of really eccentric and utterly intriguing individuals who almost always leave a comment. They’re the ones who actually keep me writing more often than not and I thank them wholeheartedly for that. I admit, I don’t comment on everything I read either but I do when it’s something I appeciate. Every blogger goes though the “is anyone even listening” phase. When you have a fountain of unconventional sanity like you find here, sometimes people choose to observe from a safe distance. Have no fear though. I don’t bite…
…unless you let me.
…in small packages.
That leaves a lot to the imagination especially if you are a frequent visitor to this blog. I could very well just let your minds frolic in the gutter. After all I’d have to agree with the first part of the blog title wholeheartedly. Course referring to someone as a thing is just crass. But then again if you look at the whole phrase if I’m the good thing then is it derogatory to little people?
Anyway before the train of thought veers down the track into Perv Town, my title is in reference to the innocent old adage referring to a meaningful gift.
I take you back a couple of weeks to a certain young girl who is on the precipice of a landmark birthday. She’s knocking on the door to the wonderful world of teenagerdom and I wanted to welcome her to the next stage of her life with a very special gift. Her ridiculously cool mother and I concocted a plan that was ABC After School Special worthy. It was a scheme so deliciously sweet it made my cavities ring and would serve as my Get Out of Hell Free card for the Rapture.
Oh wait… that passed already and I didn’t get taken away. Dammit! I guess I have to go back to being bad then…
The mission was to craft a piece of artwork for the young lass and get it to her by or before her birthday. On the outset it looked like an easy task. The picture was completed in only a couple of days leaving plenty of time to get it sent off. There were a few obstacles to overcome first in order to get said package from point A to point B. The first of which is the fact that I live next to Santa Claus and she lives near Sin City. That’s a heckuva distance for a flimsy parcel to travel. I’m no stranger to undertaking improbable missions though. Heck I first met my wife face-to-face on a dare. Traveled all the way from the heart of NYC to Niagara Falls Canada just because she didn’t think I’d do it. But that’s another tale…
I know. I’m awesome.
Nunavut to Nevada doesn’t seem to be too insurmountable but then there stands my old nemesis and the second gateway obstacle – good ole Canada Post. There is no love lost between us. We’ve engaged in many wars against one another and have fought each other to a stand still. A peace treaty was established earlier this year in the hopes of putting an end to the decade of conflict. The peasants rejoiced. Unfortunately CP caught wind of my super secret Priority One mission and shattered the pact by announcing there was going to be a nation-wide union strike.
Right on. Couldn’t have waited a couple more weeks right? Of course not. You are the bane of my existence. Why should I expect anything less. Touché.
I was wily in my ways and dispatched the package with a tracking number a week and change before the rumored start of the strike. Although it was a sneeze above regular mail priority it didn’t bring me any relief. Mail moves like frozen crap going uphill in the north and my greatest fear was that it would take too long getting to the south then get stranded there just as the strike would erupt. Sheer luck allowed it to blaze a trail all the way to the border without so much as a delay and avoided the strike by mere days. Up next the greatest challenge – Americans.
The final challenge was a twin fanged threat. American Customs can be a very fickle entity. You can easily get a package opened, confiscated or even destroyed depending on the mood of whoever is on duty doing the processing at that time. It’s their discretion. We all know how dangerous a piece of paper and a CD can be so naturally I anticipated the worse. Remarkably though it passed right on through customs and made its way to my old stomping grounds of New York City by the 1st of June.
I was giddy all day yesterday. When I checked the status it had reached the Las Vegas Sorting facility on Sunday (the 5th) and was slated for delivery. My hopes were high, but still I held on to that little shadow of doubt because I know far too well how the final leg of the race is always the toughest. I waited and waited to receive word. Finally, later that night I got an email from Thypolar informing me that the package arrived on time and intact. (12) was given her surprise gift(s) early and I was treated to a couple of pictures mommy took of her reaction as she opened it.
I have to say the smile she had and the look of shock on her face gave me the warm fuzzies of doing something good for someone. I may say I don’t like children but that’s just generally speaking. I don’t like people either but I have quite a few that I consider very dear friends. The same holds true with kids. Some kids I truly do like and appreciate. (12) is one of those. She’s a great little gir…err.. ‘scuse me… soon-to-be young lady who has a very pure heart. She’s not selfish. She’s not caught up with all the nonsense many children nowadays get wrapped up in and still has that precious dose of innocence. She also has the luxury of being surrounded by an awesome (yes I referred to someone other than myself as awesome) family and good friends. I was really tempted to post at least one of the pictures she sent but alas, she is not my child and I’d never violate a family’s privacy like that. I’m bad but I’m not a douche. I trust there will be a great many pictures of the newly crowned (13) once her birthday has come and passed so stay tuned to Thypolar’s blog for more updates. I don’t like to get sappy too often because it seriously tarnishes my gangsta nerd reputation but sometimes it eeks out.
I’m man enough to show respect when respect is due. I’ve bashed Canada Post and the United States Parcel Service on numerous occasions but this time you came through big time and were spot on in every phase of the transit. For that I thank you. You’ve done Kevin Costner proud. Somehow though I suspect we will meet once again on the battlefield. Until then you have my respect.
So… what does a sanity challenged individual who made a child happy do for his next trick?
Start pushing my way back to the front of the line to HELL of course! I can’t very well start getting a reputation for being a do-gooder now! There are far too many assholes in the world for me to rant about and stupid people to cruelly mock for me to turn good. For now it’s back to the drawing board (no pun intended).
Okay. Stop with the perverted stalker connotations. Yeah yeah, I know this is the one-stop-shop for depravity and reckless thought but this is a perfectly innocent post. In fact it relates directly to one I made the other day about a little girl I’ve never even met.
Wait. That doesn’t sound right either…
Seriously though this goes back to the gutsy tale of the little girl known as (12). If you’re unfamiliar with Act I please go and catch up with the times. Those of you who are up to date I shall continue on with the story…
Poor little (12) went back to the doctor the other day to continue with her infusions. The week before was rough for her so the 4 day break was much-needed. Unfortunately her return was marred with a series of unfortunate events (the likes of which I will not go into detail here because I may pass out). She toughed it out though and somehow manages to keep on plowing her way through whatever obstacle si in front of her. I was tipped off to an amazing scoop the not too long ago though. Apparently young Miss (12) has a birthday coming up soon. Yes, the darling little (12) will officially join the ranks of teenage fiefdom. I’m not a religious man but I pray for Thypolar and hope (12) never finds the angst button.
Anyway this revelation put even more pressure on me to complete the digital rendering I promised her. There is a goal in sight and it prompted me to work tirelessly in the wee hours of the morning to get it done. I am determined to get the sketch and the high-resolution digital image out to her in time for her birthday. It still feels weird sending a gift to someone I’ve never physically met. I don’t quite consider myself a stranger though. I have a picture of her and her two brothers on my fridge.
Wait… that sounds really bad now…
Her mother gave us a Christmas picture of her family ya lunatics! I may have to ask you to leave if you keep up with these perverted thoughts!
So tomorrow I will head to the Post Office and once again place the fate of a surprise birthday gift in the hands of Canada Post and the US Postal Service…
…God help us all…
Oh yeah… I suppose you want a sneak preview. I suppose I can do that…
To be continued….
I’m not a nice guy.
Don’t let the devilishly good looks, intoxicating writing style, utterly unbearable aura of awesomeness and supreme humbleness fool you. I’m not saying I’m a bad guy, mind you, but I’m certainly not as “good” as I could be. Often I have thought farts that don’t make it to the blogosphere. I call them thought farts because no matter how disgusting a fart is you still laugh. You don’t want to but you do. They’re crude, rude and lewd and if said in public would bring forth a piercing sneers and jeers but muffled giggles as well. I say things people think about but don’t have the balls to say sometimes. I’m like a walking South Park episode. I find humor in almost anything. I make light of things other people take far too seriously. There’s a fine line between disrespect and comedy that people really need to learn about. I push boundaries sometimes but it’s all in good fun. I’m frighteningly politically incorrect and in some people’s eyes that’s a bad thing.
With that as the backdrop to this whole post, I fear I’m losing my place in line in Hell. Over the past 23 or so years I’ve strategically maneuvered my way down the queue. There are a ton of people at the head of the line that I’ll never be able to get past but that’s okay. I just want a decent seat if I’m going to roast for eternity. Unfortunately moving up here has halted and, dare I say, even reversed my hard-earned progress. First it was volunteering my services at the animal shelter. Initially I only intended to build a website for them for free but now I’ve found myself walking and tending to dogs for the past 3 weeks. That’s not the kind of thing you put on your resume to Hell.
Then it was volunteering for a couple of activities during Toonik Tyme. There I was working long hours, making friends with adults and mingling with children. Me. The supposed antisocial anti-child anarchist. As if that wasn’t enough, as of the past week I’ve found myself volunteering once again – this time at the Iqaluit Community Greenhouse – doing manual labor duties such as hauling soil and bedding planters. Helping the community and expecting nothing in return.
What the hell is going on? The now 23hrs of daylight must be baking my brain.
But then came the ultimate act that’s bound to get me kicked right out of the line completely…
A couple of weeks ago I was reading a few posts about a loving mother and her beautiful young daughter’s medical condition. Some of you may be familiar with my blend Thypolar. If not I urge you to cease reading my dribble and catch up with this fascinating woman’s tale. Her daughter, who creatively is referred to as (12), is an inspirational young girl who’s going through some physically and mentally taxing times right now. She’s a trooper that somehow manages to crank out a movie-star quality smile whenever the camera is on her. Some how… some way she managed to inspire the non-existent fluffy frilly side of my heart. I decided since I’ve been on a sketching roll as of late that I’d make something specifically for her. Not only would I send her the signed sketch (which I rarely do) but I’d digitally render a full color, print quality illustration of it as well. She likes frogs and faeries so that’s what I’m going to make for her. I’m still debating on how to present it to her. I know Thypolar reads my blog and sometimes informs her kiddies about the well wishes and compliments they receive but I don’t think they actually see this blog.
Geez… I’d hope not. I live in fear of my parents keeping up with this much less underage children. *nyuk nyuk*
The recent Rapture-mania made me think about (12) once again so I finished off the sketch for the most part…
On a completely serious and out-of-character note, it saddens me that the flaming bag of douche who got the whole Doomsday craze rolling has gained so much notoriety meanwhile real people with real problems and real concerns like young little (12) remain anonymous. Sure I kid around a lot here, spout outlandish thoughts and spin interesting tales about my life experiences but I would hope people are intelligent enough to know when I’m playing the fool and when I’m dead serious. I’m very proud and honored to send this little wonder something I created. Sure, it’s just a piece of artwork, but if it puts a smile on her face or makes her day I’m happy. I’m actually experiencing a bit of anxiety about sending it because I want it to be just right. A 35 year old tough guy is intimidated by a 12 year old girl. Go figure. Every artist wages a constant battle with perfection. I know this picture is far from perfect and it makes my stomach turn on end as I constantly question myself whether its good enough.
Anyway before I start babbling again stop flitting around here and read something more interesting. Read up on her. Beam her and her lovely mother some positive energy and if you’re feeling really proactive, send her a card or something. Let her know there is still some hope for humanity and that we’re not all a bunch of trend-hopping stooges who go gaga over the stupidest things and neglect the people, plights and stories we should really be concerned about.
Stay tuned for future updates about this piece.
Love, peace and hair grease folks!