Spoiled by the Force

The Air Force spoiled me. Thinking back and comparing to now, boy was I spoiled professionally.

It’s a good thing I had to log in to my work email last night, because if I saw that same email this morning I would probably have gone home. A promotion of a colleague that more or less made me want to vomit – literally. I just couldn’t believe that *I* didn’t get the position. I must mention, though, that I didn’t apply… So… Therein lies the problem.

Back on point: why did the Air Force spoil me? Because, professionally speaking, promotions and raises were a given up to a certain level – the level at which I left the Air Force for greener pastures. It became well-known of when you’d make rank. And my bosses pushed to give me more – unofficial increases in responsibility – a way to shine above the rest.

After the Air Force I joined a company that, for whatever reason, promoted me after just 3 months – a mere continuance of the already-set promotion schedule. And ever since, it’s been a challenge to gain any ground.

Sure I’m in a better place than I was years ago. Sure I have a better life. Sure I’m more comfortable and arguably more happy. But I’m missing that gain – missing that growth – missing that improvement in career.

For 3 years now I have held the same title and position, though my duties have changed slightly over the years. I’m quickly becoming over-educated and under-employed (actually, I’ve been under-employed for a long time). What’s worse is that I have seen little to no growth – especially compared to the schedule set of 6 years between the Air Force and the post-Force job.

I’m not one to sit by and let things happen. Actually, yes, yes I am… But seeing the promotion announcement last night made me feel left behind. Hopefully that was the last straw. I’m educated, I’m qualified, and I’m smart – I can do anything, literally anything, that I set my mind to. I’ve been in over my head and came out on top time and time again. I’m a survivor. I’m a go-getter. I’m good. Hear me roar. Hear my battle cry!

… … …

Thanks for the pep talk. Now let’s go get it.

(And keep on me about it!)

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Coffee accessories: The never-ending plight

My office has coffee machines much like any other office with coffee machines you can imagine. Also with the coffee machines are the typical accessories: sugar (fake and not), creamer (dry and wet), stirrers (wooden), and cups (paper or ceramic). Coffee packets and filters are also provided to allow for proper coffee pot operation.

This is all fine and dandy. And even though the coffee sometimes is less than desirable, it is free nonetheless and easily doctored with various powdered and liquid substances.

The plight that is mentioned in the title above comes from the coworker(s). I have not yet identified who, but I had quickly grown tired of, and continue to be tired of, the way they place said coffee accessories on the counter.

“What could possibly be wrong here,” you might say. “Well let me tell you,” I would quickly retort.

You would expect that the primary accessories be placed near each other, and they are. The problem at hand: a paper towel dispenser that hangs on the wall next to the sink.

Now, what could be wrong with that? A lot, in my book – seemingly nothing, in others’.

You see, said coworker(s) move the open sugar and creamer container to just below the hanging paper – where once a person reaches with wet hands, water immediately drips to the countertop below – right where said coworker(s) continue to move the open sugar and creamer containers.

I, like most people, would rather have clean and un-dirtied coffee accessories. I, apparently unlike most people, recognize this hazard and continue to move the accessories (stirrers included) to a dryer, safer place. Over and over and over again.

Please, people: pay the fuck attention to the coffee accessories.

Thank you.

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Is blogging dead?

It is for me, or so it seems.

It’s been a long time since I seriously sat with the intent of writing a post, be it poetry/prose or the non-writing blog content. For a long time I’ve thought about splitting this blog in two in order to keep those two seemingly different content types apart, mostly out of respect for each audience type.

And then there’s Twitter. And my iPad. And food. And alcohol. And life. And school (again). They all get in the way and take away attention and interest from this. From here. From you.

But honestly, I’d like to reconnect with you. See if we can’t re-light the flame that has seemingly extinguished.

So hello again, again, and probably another again. Here we are: face to face.

What do you think? What do you think about the content split? What are your thoughts?

Who am I kidding… I’m the only one who’s reading this. (Except for you, you’re apparently reading this as well.)

Back on point: is blogging dead? I guess we all face this question at some point or another if we’ve ever associated with blogging in any way. But I think I have the answer:

Blogging dies or lives for each one of us; it never dies as a whole. Blogging dies if you ignore it or don’t partake – it lives so long as you pay attention to it. But, know that so long as one person pays attention to it, it will always be alive.

And at last check of my Google Reader, quite a few people pay attention on one side or the other. So no – blogging is not dead.

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The birds and the basketballs

Someone wanted me to write this, so here it is:

When I was younger, say, late-single-digits/early-doubles, I used to play basketball in the yard. I would hop around doing the basketball thing, you know… typical stuff. Many times I would warm up by shooting the ball straight up and catching it, straight up and catching it.

One day as I was warming up, I shot the ball straight up, caught it, shot it straight up, caught it, shot it straight up, was blinded by something falling in my eye from above, and I promptly ran into the house.

Upon further inspection, I became acutely aware that a seagull had flown above and relived itself not just on me, but in my eye.

MY EFFING EYE!

The end.

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Onward Ho

It’s been a while since I last updated the blog. In fact, the last time I updated the blog was almost 3 months ago and was about my love interest with Twitter. Needless to say, that has quenched my thirst for writing publicly and has been a decent success by my measure. Also needless to say, that has resulted in a lack of blogging, as you can see.

Anyway.

I come to you today with nothing of value, nothing to offer, nothing of worth other than a mere empty acknowledgement that this blog exists and with any luck someone is reading this. If so: Hello. How are you doing? Thanks for hanging around.

I think one main reason for not updating here, other than Twitter use, is that I feel this blog has lost direction. Nay, rather it has a lack of focus. I feel the need to break this blog into two: the first being the usual entries you’re used to with the touch of humor; the second being a place for the poetic & prose type of entries. To some degree this division, and lack of dividing, has prevented me from posting altogether.

So.

Here we are. At a crossroad of sorts: time to change, time to divide, time to write.

One thing at a time though. First: decide to divide or not. Second: divide or not. Third: write.

Onward ho.

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A Date with Twitter

So I’ve fallen off the blog wagon. I’m trying to get back on but it’s proving more challenging than previous times I’ve fallen off.

No, I’m not saying that I’m giving up. Nor am I saying I’m going on sabbatical from writing.

You see, there’s someone (read: something) else…

I don’t know how to tell you this, but, I think Twitter has come between us.

I know, I know. I’m sorry and I hate saying it, but it’s true:

Twitter has my attention.

…

I know this must be hard for you to understand, and it’s certainly a lot to digest, but, please know that I still think of you, and want you in my life. It’s just that, the whole 140-character thing has dragged me in and provides that release, the give-and-take, you once provided, dear blog.

You see, it all began when I started the Twitter account for this blog. At first it was meant to be a promotion tool, a way to get out the word, and be a place to express, in short-form, thoughts that may or may not be relevant to the content of this blog.

Little did I know that it would slowly but surely take away my focus from you.

And I’m sorry for that.

Maybe… maybe we can all have dinner together and I can introduce you to each other? Maybe you two can be friends? Maybe you’d get along. That would be nice, wouldn’t it? I think you two would really hit it off.

Unfortunately, I must say that there is no way I can end my relationship with Twitter, at least not within the foreseeable future. And I also cannot end my relationship with you… so…

…

I hope you understand that this is not goodbye – I’ll try my best to write for you into the future (as inspiration comes of course).

But now I must go. I have a date with Twitter…

…

‘Til next time…

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Change the trunk oil, not the engine oil, please.

Many years ago, my friend wanted to buy an engine from a guy so he could upgrade his car for racing purposes.

We went in my car to get the engine from some guy in El Paso. He thought it appropriate to bring my car and also thought it perfectly sane to put the newly-purchased used engine in the trunk of my car.

After lining the trunk with tarps, we loaded it in.

As we drove back to his place, which consisted of both left and right turns over the course of an hour, the engine understandably tipped from one side to the other.

What did we open the trunk to find after arriving at his house to unload the engine?

Engine oil. Everywhere.

Apparently no one thought to drain the engine prior to transport. Also apparently, no one thought about checking to see if the oil had been drained from said engine prior to loading it into the trunk.

Needless to say, that was a nightmare to clean; a process which took days, included a laundromat, and never fully removed all of the oil.

Fortunately I don’t have that car anymore.

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Follow me on Twitter! (It might be worth it.)
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