Monday, July 18, 2011

Debt Ceiling Apple Blockade

Geek Speak - Two Comics CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!

They brought swords to a debt fight
Our nation, or at least those who even casually follow politics, are waiting with baited breath to see how the fracas over the debt ceiling shakes out. Make no mistake, were America to default on its debts it would be very bad. The thing that makes me the angriest about it, though, is knowing the people who are fight it out in Washington are among those who will be affected the least. Many of them are already wealthy, and they draw a tidy income from their work in Congress, and many of them have additional income from shrewd investments (legally sanctioned insider trading anyone?). If the debt ceiling isn't raised, if America defaults, like so many other issues over which these strutting, malignantly narcissistic mother fuckers posture and proselytize, it's the average American who gets hurt. Want to buy a car? Sky-rocketing interest rates as a result of a lack of confidence in America's economy will mean that you ultimately pay thousands more in interest than the car is ultimately worth. Same with buying a house. Want to start a business? With interest rates so high and assets devalued you don't have enough credit or equity to get a loan for the start up costs. Republicans are by far the worst actors here. Blame the president if you like, but remember; it's Congress, not the president, that decides on spending and approves budgets.  Plus, we have an obstructionist party control of Congress who's stated mission is to take an opposite position to that of the president, no matter what it's about. In this environment, where titans clash, it's the innocent villagers trampled beneath their heels who suffer.

The iPad has a funny name
This is a little dated, but I think still has some traction. When Apple announced their tablet my immediate reaction was, "Oh, boy. Here we go. What overpriced piece of junk is Jobs going to tell the brainwashed, indoctrinated masses is the new next bast thing to a bank error in their favor?" Then he pulled out an oversized iPod Touch and had the audacity to call it something new. I about bit my tongue in half at that, but what really caused my cerebellum to go all Eyjafjallajokull was when he announced the name, "iPad." Molly Wood immediately went on CNet's Buzz Out Loud and basically said exactly what I was thinking. Namely, that's a horrible name if you happen to be a woman. Which is funny in and of itself, but if you take it a step further it's new-minted comedy gold with chocolate filling.

Writer's blockade-complete with metaphorical razor wire
I would really enjoy writing more than I have been able to do of late. It's not just about being able to find time while working around the understandable demands of a new baby, it's also about finding the creative juice and the will to do it. This blog notwithstanding there are at least a couple of other projects that really need my attention. One of my lapsed projects is a novel-length effort that is sitting fallow at around 23,000 words; just shy of the halfway mark to be considered a novel. There are at least two screenwriting projects that I should be working on at the same time. One is a post-apocalyptic adventure story with a supernatural spin, the other is a cop-drama with (you guessed it) a supernatural theme.

Other than finding time I also have a problem with sitting in front of a white screen with a blinking cursor. It's like the flickering dash of literary potential is mocking me as I go glare blind from staring at the virgin word processing space. In part it's a question of knowing what I want to do and where to start. How do you begin a police-procedural that's ultimately going to take a turn for the weird? The other problem is that I don't have the proper framework on which to build something that will pass casual inspection. Police procedural dramas are some of my favorite shows, but I've never been a cop and know next to nothing about being one.

Part of me says, "just sit down and write. Anything that you have doubts about you can clean up in the second draft." Another part of me says, "Don't listen to that first part, he's been sniffing glue." To which the first part responds, "::snort:: Research is for pussies!" Then there's another part of me, a part the other two are unaware of, but one that's omnipresent and all knowing, kind of like my psyche's version of Santa Claus. That part says, "even if you decide on one, you don't have the time to dedicate to either. You're not going to get anywhere, so just tend to your responsibilities and blow off the excess steam by playing more video games."

The thing is, the best time for me to get anything done is after I get home from work. Even with the demands of a home life that includes a new baby, I could find the time to do some writing (like now). What stops me isn't time, or research, or any of that bullshit. What stops me is the fact that when I get home from work I am A: drained, defeated, and may be a touch depressed, and B: I just plain don't want to do anything that even remotely feels like work. I spend all day at a keyboard, punching keys and trying to find some kind of stimulation in the action of doing so, and by the time I'm able to pack up and go home my mind has been numbed to the point of ambivalence toward anything that I might otherwise like to do.

It's a conundrum wrapped in a nuisance, and dusted with glitter that you keep finding everywhere even weeks after you through the fucking thing in the trash.

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