Posts Tagged ‘blogging’

As if I’m not already taking up too much of my time chasing an impossible dream, I began writing for a new website. This new task has taken away from working on other projects, but from what I have learned in the last year, writing seriously has a much bigger benefit in the long run than trying to make people laugh does. In fact, making people laugh is pretty much a waste of time. Why put so much effort into something a feather to a foot can?

Anyway, the new site I’m contributing for is called Call to the Pen. For those unfamiliar with baseball, it’s a slang term for–I’m not going to even bother. To view my articles exclusively I will redirect you to my other baseball site I write by myself and the page I have dedicated to this new site. I figure, if you are interested enough to click on one link, you will probably click on a second.

You can find what I have written so far here on this really long string of words that for some reason I thought should all be part of the link.

That’s it. Just wanted to share this little piece of nonsense.

I’m also spending New Year’s with a sexy lady.

Niu Niu Timmy

No, not here. She’s only my number two and three.

Here are links to places you can find other works of mine.

cleat report

The Cleat Report: Anything baseball related

phalse philly sports logo

Phalse Philly Sports: Philadelphia sports satire

I think blogging here has jumped the shark for me. Or maybe I’m using that term incorrectly. Yes, I know for a fact I am. Jumping the shark should be used when a hotshot high school student tries literally jumping over a pool of sharks while riding a motorcycle and in no other instances.

What I mean is with this blog I spent so much time promoting in the past that I can never say anything awful about anyone I actually know. This is kind of shitty in a way. Isn’t that the point of blogging? To talk shit in a cowardly way?

Not that I have a billion bad things to say about people. Most people I would talk badly about most likely don’t know this blog exists or wouldn’t bother to read it. I think this is a problem we all have with being mean. People are inherently good, but then we bring out the worst in others to the point they want to say bad things about us on a blog. So really I’m fine if you want to say bad things about me on your blog because I get it. Just don’t expect me to meaninglessly click “Like” on your post.

I actually started anonymously blogging somewhere else on Sunday, speaking in half-truths. I’ll probably do it here too in some cases just to keep it present. A half-truth, at least to me, is when you start to tell the honest truth and it hurts the person it’s about so much that you end up tossing in something so incredibly ridiculous they assume the whole thing was a joke. A classic one is God tells a man to build a boat because a giant flood is coming and then he has to grab two of every animal.

noahs-ark1(There once was a man named Noah and everything after probably didn’t happen)

With everything going on in my life (eating lunch and eating dinner) I find myself becoming a more private person. Not so much private where I don’t go outside or interact with people ever. I’m actually much more social than I was a year ago. I have a job where I talk to people every day and on my way there at least one person’s armpit is shoved in my face–half of the time at my request to block the stench from someone else.

I don’t really have a point to this other than I couldn’t figure out anything else to write before going to bed so I figured I’d update here on how I really don’t have much to share, but at the same time I have a lot. I think my problem is finding a balance between what to say on a blog and what to keep private because to truly express myself in some ways would upset people. Never forget, I’m an angry white male in his mid-20s who never really achieved what he wanted in life. Plus my foot hurts and whenever someone’s foot hurts they usually lose control of their words.

Forgive me blog readers for I have sinned. It has been 9 days since my last blog post. That’s an estimation and kind of depends on interpretation. It’s been over a week though. I guess you can say my absence is because like Shawn Michaels, I have lost my smile.

I’m not handing over my world title. I’m not going to retire. I’m not going to stop blogging. I have too many things already written anyway. For now though I have very little interest in blogging. It’s not something I really think about even anymore. That’s not to say I have given up my dreams of becoming a writer. I may not be as focused on certain writing aspects in my life as I would like, but I am still writing as much as I can, which is not as much as I would like.

For now I will probably be blogging less frequently. I no longer get the same, if any, satisfaction out of it that I once did. That’s not to say I’m not happy. I’m probably the most gleeful I have been in a long time. So in your face, or something.

I am a week away from turning 26 and saying no is easy for me now. Well, I don’t really say no. I more bite my lip, tilt my head, shrug, and then say “Ya know, I’d rather not.” I’m fine without simple pleasures. I’m comfortable accepting every role I have in life. I know my value. Some things in life will never go my way. Some people will never be dependable. Things that used to make me sad just make me say “meh” because that’s the way it is and I didn’t see it coming. I give an “all righty then” and continue to move along through life.

So really what I’m saying is don’t expect me around as often, but expect me around. I have no real reason to slow up on blogging other than I just don’t like as much anymore. I would go further into it, but that’s a lost battle not worth dancing into.

Gold-Dress-dancing(Not sure if there is anyone on the planet with less sex appeal than Taylor Swift. My uncle who always has car grease on his hands…maybe)

The word “an” is a Latin prefix meaning “one.” Anniversaries happen one time a year. We all have only one anus. Anacondas always travel by themselves. And annual events happen once each year.

I won’t waste your time much further. I just simply hate to miss an anniversary of any kind and felt that I should at least acknowledge today that it is the one year anniversary of me self-publishing my first novel, Satan: Little League Superstar. A year has passed and I still hate using the word novel even though the word book sounds a lot more like something with pictures and pop-up monsters, not that I am above making a book like that. So technically I guess this means it has been exactly a year since I made my first dime from writing. The best part is I have made enough money from my writing to live on, if I decided to live in a homeless shelter and only buy cheap drugs. Now that I have discovered writing for Yahoo I have more of an income from writing entering my bank account. It’s not a tremendous amount, but it’s still something and will look great on a resume to people who don’t understand they publish just about anything on there.

To read more on how great self-publishing is, you can read a Yahoo article I recently wrote about it and was paid a very specific $3.72 upfront for writing it.

Top Five Heartbreaking Moments From Self-Publishing

And read the rest or at least click on them.

I started “contributing” things to the Yahoo Contributor’s Network. I am not a fan of the word contribute. It’s a word teachers would use whenever they felt you were not participating. Usually when a kid doesn’t participate it’s because there is a much bigger problem. Then the teachers embarrass the kid by calling him out on his bullshit and the kid goes home and cries. Then his parents meet together at the school to figure out what’s wrong with me. The school blames my parents and my parents blame the school system. A fist fight breaks out between my dad and the principal. My mom yanks a woman’s earring out through the flesh and due to the injury the woman gets an infection. The next two years are spent trying to keep my mom out of jail for “getting caught up in the heat of the moment” which is the sleazy lawyer’s advice. Meanwhile I am in 4th grade now, friendless, and weighing 200 pounds. My dad’s living in Peru and late in the year we find out he has received a sex change operation. After a 16 month sentence, my mom ends up serving a lifetime for her actions while incarcerated. My dad remarries and eventually drowns in his own semen, according to the autopsy report. All of this because I wouldn’t contribute.

But I’m contributing now. Here are the first three things that have been put up there. Whether they interest you or not, it’s helpful if you click on the links because I get paid per visit aka I may be able to make enough to buy a nothing. I’ve already submitted things that fall under the “humor” label so that should be more interesting for you…maybe. So just click on each. It’s helpful.

Three Baseball Teams and What They Should do at the Trade Deadline

Better Than Nirvana

Catchers Are the New Shortstops

If you want to contribute to Yahoo then Google “yahoo voices” and figure it out yourself. You won’t make much money, but if it gets picked up by one of the random Yahoo sites then you can earn a pretty penny. By pretty I mean around $2.

two dollar bill(I’d hit it)

I’m participating in a blogging project. Is it a project? It’s more people just putting links places. Sounds like hard work to me. We’re supposed to write about sleepovers. I already wrote a post about that before, but felt it would be cheating to allow them to put that link up. I’ll put it up here anyway then summarize it below again for the sake of things. The strangest sleepover I had can be read here at Up All Night Giggle Fests. But I had more and here are the top 10 things that I remember from sleepovers in no particular order.

1) At one of my first sleepovers a kid with bad breath showed us his butt then we watched The Stupids and made fun of the kid who fell asleep at 8 then we all fell asleep at 9.

2) When I was sleeping over Michael Barbera’s house one time we were watching Jungle 2 Jungle. He fell asleep and his dad came over and shut the movie off while I was still awake. I pretended to be asleep after that because it would have been awkward otherwise.

1997-jungle-2-jungle-poster1

3) When I was older I was sleeping over a friend’s house. He asked me if I needed to (insert whatever your favorite term for masturbation is here) before going to bed. I told him no. He excused himself and returned 10 minutes later. He probably wanted to say his prayers in private, right?

4) I was never allowed to have friends over as a kid because my house was really gross and messy. I began house sitting frequently when I was an older teenager and I had a friend sleepover one night. He slept in the little girl’s bed. We also watched porn and laughed at it because doing anything else would be weird.

5) A lot of times I would drink at friend’s houses. I never wanted to sleep on the floor so I usually stayed up all night until I was super enough to drive home. One time a girl rested her head on my crotch and we watched 9/11 conspiracy videos on YouTube all night long. She got really fat and didn’t remember me a week later.

venturalarryking

6) One time a friend of mine at a sleepover I actually stayed at asked me if he should show his foreskin to some girl in exchange for her to show him her boobs. I told him not to and he didn’t. I have never felt so trusted.

7) When I was younger my mom was in the hospital a lot. It was unfortunate that one time when she was in the hospital my dad was away for like the only business trip he ever went on. I think it was to Baltimore. He saw Jason Giambi there. Because my parents were afraid of someone calling DYFS on them, my sister and I had to stay at a neighbor’s house. When I was sent to bed I remember waking up and crawling around on the floor for no reason at all.

jasongiambi

8) XXX***TOO EXPLICIT TO TALK ABOUT PUBLICALLY***XXX

9) One time I got home late from New York City when I was doing stand-up comedy and decided instead of driving the 30 minutes it took to get home I would just sleep in my car since I had work the next morning anyway. This wasn’t so much a sleepover as much as it was a cry for help that went ignored. I also hurt my neck trying to sleep.

10) I swear I remember one time when I brought a change of clothes and a sleeping bag over to a friend’s house expecting to sleepover and they kept hinting at me to leave. I can’t remember the particular details, but I remember the feeling of rejection and being reminded that my sleep farts were not welcome in their parent’s basement.

remember-the-time