Thursday, September 27, 2007

I remember

I remember waking up late that day.

It was one ofthose clear blue and cool days where I could probably have seen for mile if I was not glued to the grey dashboard in front of me.

I don't know why lot of things happened that morning. Why we took my car, but I did not drive. Why I was running so late or even why I decided to go by myself rather than with the rest of the team.

Maybe we were meeting downtown? Maybe it was an effrot to get focused.

All I do rememeber is wanting to throw up as my mom drove at lightening speed down I-70.

It was the last time I really felt that jumpy, that anxious about anything. I was making myself sick I was so nervous.

My high school team had clamoured from the bottom of the heap to the final rounds in the state mock trail torunament. I know, not really something to many kids get excited about, but it was what I was dreading at that moment.

I still have the clear image of me sitting there watching as we round the Benton Curve and the city came into full view.

"Just think, if you become a lawyer you can feel this way everyday," she said.

I remember hearing that but not really understanding it.

It makes perfecty sence now.

Saturday I will be embarking on this pointless voyage of taking the LSAT. Another test that will determine whether I measure up to their standards or not. I am hedging my bets and saying the latter.

Although I have no idea how well this thing will go Saturday morning, I do know that for the past couple of day that creeping, anxious feeling has returned to the pit of my stomach.

My head is again locked on my shoes focusing so I do not throw up the last bit of hope I have inside me.

Only this time no one will be there to drive me to the courtroom if I am running late.

It's an odd thought to have this week.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Location, location, location...

I like hte idea of being a regular.

Your drink or meal or laundry set out for you like they knew exaclty how you wanted it. Mostly becasue you have been coming to that bar, booth or store front for the last few months at the same time.

It's not really a rut, it is just consistency as the world around you falls apart.

Well, today I say fuck you to being a regular. I recenlty had my entire idea of how to conduct a producctive work day turned upside down when a fellow factory lineman told me that there were time he would jsut leave the office to hang out at the library, coffee shop or even occasional greasy spoon joint.

"Wait, you jsut leave the office and don't do any work? How do you meet deadlines or get your widgets screwed tightly on those adverbs?"

"I do the work," he said. "I take a laptop and a cell phone and get my work done much faster than I would in the office with all the distractions..."

Simply amazing.

So today I did my own little experiement; stealing away to the Central Research Library of the county. The rich kids library.

At 1 p.m. it was the wildest library I have ever been in. And, let me tell you, I have been in some wild libraries.

There were people everywhere.

An old many relcining reading a book, probably a Grisham or Clancy. A middled aghed hippies looking dude who was glued to his overly-fancy lap top. Probably a computer porgramer looking for an escape from his own office.

When we made eye contact from across the study room, we would nod and then shiftly go back to what we were doing - fearing, it seemed - that this stranger could somehow rat us out to the authorities.

"Is this the foreman at the Factory? Yes, well, I jsut saw one of you men reading a book down here at the library! I'll detain him until you can send the authorities."

Even the parents who would drop their kids in to the "children's section" of the library - a seperate room to allow them to read loudly and make other child like nosies without disturbing other - seemed oddly shady as they looked for their own escape from their loin inspired howler monkey.

You could tell a when a new person would arrive as they would lazily walk in a soft-edged zig-zag, trying to get a feel for the room.

Will they sit at a desk...on the couches by the window...maybe at a computer? Where will the spirit take them and plant them to fit in despite the fact that we all were kind of forced like mismatched puzzle pieces in that room.

But the juxaposed jagged edges smashed together kept us jsut far enough a part to derive some solitude, but still feel like we were in the middle of all the madness.

I feel like I am dangerously close to quoting a Jack Maniquin song.

If this post got to the point, I might have to jsut hang myself from one of those Library stacks.

Friday, September 21, 2007

Interwebs, prepare thy self!

The Wednesday Weekly has always been a good forum for my little diatribes and drunken rambling.

They might not have always been the most well though out or coherent, but damnit we had a good time. We laughed, we cried we have made some slightly racist comments in these hallowed parchments of ... inter net journaling.

Oh, don't confuse this with some kind of good bye speech. This is not my Xanadu. No, my lack luster elite. Today lesson and personal insight into my own pathetic drone of a life is an announcement!

This week wise, and beard clad men downtown bellowed the Kudo horn calling for volunteers for a new project. The old Paragraph Factory has Viagra induced boner for Blogs (consult a doctor it is last more tha four hours). And so they are preparing to launch yet another blog that will challenge the need for our own paper product.

I, like Spartacus in a crowd, raised my hand a volunteers. Well, it was more like I was conscripted. It seems, among some of the wilder crowds downtown, my reputation for insanity has been recognized as both and asset and dangerous on many levels - keep him away from the paste up machine!

Well, WWers we have already seen the creation of the crime blog...soon after we had the political blog and then the editorial cartoonists blog. Not long then we had a music blog and a business blog and a gardening blog. Hell, if i looked I am sure I would find a quilting blog.

Today, my newsroom announced though, Mike Ekey would be one of the principle contributors to the paper's newest Dating and Relationships blog. Kiss and Tell.

I know, the name leave a little to be desired, but the editors in their infinite wisdom feel it is time they let one of the younger staff members (youngest, actually) tack a crack at their blogging culture.

Being that it is my generation that is casting off the newspaper in record numbers, they want to try this little experiment to see if the masses of 20-somethings will read a relationships blog.

What is this blog about? Well, I'm not really sure. Our first editorial meeting involved me and the two other contributors (who match up with other much needed demographics) talking about dates we have been on, women/men we have been with and the general idea that we have been given a licence to write about anything that deals with the opposite sex.

Folks, we have hit the jackpot.

I mean, i know everyone is going to love hearing about the time I went on a date and managed to get roofied.

Everyone will love to hear about the church group i went to that turned out to be the dirtiest group of swingers this side of Christendom.

I know people will flock to the time I flirted and got the number of a former high school teacher (i knew she looked familiar, i said the next day reading my old year book, as I am penchant to do).

Hunter Thompson said, and I;m paraphrasing, you don't know the edge until you have gone over. Well, kids, grab your grappling hook and prepare for a sharp fall because we are getting ready for go flying off that edge and never look back.

Will it get me fired? Maybe...will i get to meet new people...I hope. Have I found a new venue for writing about this god awful gonzo existence I call my life...you better fucking believe it.

Hold on to your butts.

(I will post the new site here once it is live. I was told it should be about two weeks from now. Any ideas? Questions? Tips...I think we will need regular features and good things to talk about. So I am looking to you, my loyal base of retards and fuck around readers.)

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

I need stats stat!

The internet is a fucking scary place.

But what really gets me about the internet is that you have, in a sence, two internets. Follow me for a second becaue this might get complicated.

Most people know the Internet - capital I - as the "place" they go to check e-mail and download porn or get photos of the grandkids. The thing is, you really anr't going anywhere. You are sitting in your office and viewing these things as they stream though the fiber optics, cable lines and telephone wires.

But the physical internet - the wires in the walls at homes, and underground cables, the boxes that are hidden by small shurbs is the physical manifestation of that same internet.

What does this all mean, Mike? Are you on the pills again?

Yes.

But that does not end my own facination with the network that copmanies are figthing tooth and nail to control that allows us to look at dogs on skateboards and squirrels on skis.

The guy from AT&T was trying to pitch to the city council the idea that the city needed to instal a 10 foot tall relay box in the middle of a park. Bad news to most, but part of his pitch included these facts as to why those kinds of boxes were needed all over the city...

- Growth in Internet traffic went from 1.5 million gigabytes per month in 1996, to 700 million gigabytes per month in 2006.

- You-Tube didn’t exist in January, 2005. Its users are now watching 100 million clips daily, consuming as much bandwidth each and every day, as the entire Internet consumed in the year 2000.

- Downloading a single high definition movie consumes more bandwidth than does the downloading of 35,000 web pages; it’s the equivalent of downloading 2300 songs over Apple’s
i-Tunes web site.

- There are 60 million new video “uploads” each day.

- Daily email traffic is projected to grow from 90.4 billion in 2007, to 102.2 billion emails in 2009.

- By 2010, it is expected that 20 typical households will generate as much traffic as the entire Internet moved in 1995.

- Sweet mother of god we are addicted. I don't even want to know what percentage of that data being flowed though out bandwidth is porn or some otehr elicit item.

Consider this mind blown.

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Becket

Sam Becket is a far better man than me.

I, looking back into my own past, have lied, cheated, stolen and can barely forgive myself for that. I still lie awake at night knowing that what I have done in the past will never be as good as this fictioanl character.

But then again, fiction is better preserved than our own reality.

I have watched this episode of Quantum Leap more than half a dozen times and even now, with the sound turned off, I can recite the lines like their were my own dialog. My own words that I wish despreatly were my own so I could say that I made a difference.

But don't we all? Isn't that our nature? To be someone who did something, somewhere, somehow...

It is seems almost peverse to think that that someone could be you and you alone. And that somewhere could be a random mining town in Pennsylvania and that somehow could be simply being yourself...doing the same goddamed thing you have done for the last decade even though all you want is to go home.

Here, though, home is not an option.

I have not felt like I have actually been home for the last 6 years of my life. Nowhere, no one here, even, makes me feel comfortable. All I want to do is leap to a time when I felt like I was at home. But that time is gone.

But, maybe, that is not my mission here.

It finally makes sense when one of the greatest teachers I ever had told his less than rapt class that his bigest regret was the feeling that he had ruined the life of on student by telling her that she was not good enough.

In his own immmaturity, he blurted out that, possibly, she did not rise to the level and told her to quit. It had been more than 20 years since that day and he still regreted it.

But then again looking locally and small is not what we are taught...so this become incomprehensible for most who read this diatribe.

For that majority who strive for success and amazing things, they see themselves on a level that, somehow, affects everyone around them. Their influence touches millons and their words will fall on the ears of everyone.

But when you mass produce a good thing, there is always someone out to try and make it better and who can come up with better marketing to sell their inferior product. Even if it ends up ruining everyone you set free.

We think too globally.

We assume that everything we do must be given to everyone we see, touch or happen to run into at the corner of 3rd and Grand.

But what makes Becket so much more powerful than the average superhero is not that he saves hundrends from a falling crane or a meteor. Instead he saves ones man from his own self destruction. One woman from abuse. One life from medocity.

he makes a difference locally and on such an intense level that those around him see him as the superhero they have been waiting for all their lives. Where are our local superheros? They were mass produced sold to us as an inferior product. Better marketing outweighed the real saviors and messiahs.

It is just a TV show, but what makes me cry at this episode each time is the fact that I see my own goals relfected here...and I see my own failures gleaming there each time.

I wanted to be local. I wanted to be small town...I wanted to focus my talents and the things I can give on such a small crowd that I would make a difference...not on a scale that would merit award or praise from some natiaonl clearing house.

I wanted to be a lawyer for children, families that had been torn apart by misforuned and greed. I wanted to be a voice for people who had been so torn down by a society of global thought...passed over by people who look not for the small people, but rather the big leage takers. I wanted to make a difference to someone, anyone, anyhow...but did I?

Fuck no.

I went to the "Big Leagues" without any thought of those who pushed me there. I went daily.

I think it is time for a change. I used to dislike, but now I will refuse to write for the daily. Tonight. I will make myself a another drink and remember that I am here becasue I loved being local, small town and simple.

I am not going to muck it up by trying to be something more. Becasue the power to change that does not lie with me. Hell, I would not want it to lie with me.

Tonight, I want to be something more than a voice. TOnight I vow I am getting out of journalism. It is the only profession that lauds and celebrates the big picture to such an extent that it becomes unhealthy and unkept.

Pulitzers and state awards only celebrate those who want to change the global landscape and make a difference in but a handfull of lives. Its is the quilt ladies and the fundraisers in your town of 1,200 that make the difference to so many more...not so much in quantity, but in quality.

I guess you have to deicde what is better for you. This is the decision you have to make. RIght now I am being trained how to produce Quantity and I hate myself everyday for it. I feel dirty. But for now it will pay hte bills as I plan my escape.

2008 will by my recokning. 2008 will hold so many more possibilites and opportunites for me to do something, anything, anywhere.

I am going back down the ladder. I am demoting myself. Hopefully then I can learn what it truly means to help someone and make myself better...make them someone who can take on the mission that I want to continue here.

Maybe then I can at least become something closer to what Sam Becket has become.