Just a note - I am going to three or four posts a week now (think I mentioned this) that I have finished the first week. Extras when something pops into the mind that I just have to note.

Still, while I am here, a few random thoughts. First, great bumper sticker motto I saw: "First pillage, then burn."

Words to live by, those.

Second, a possible explanation of Elvis. Elvis Presley may well have been the modern day avatar of Zeus, a being sent to bring good music, parties, and lust for life (as well as just lust) back to the modern world. However, he was tainted by too many earthly doughnuts after too long on the mortal plane, and thus faked his death to get back to Olympus where he could swiftly lose weight. Since, he has made more manageable trips to the realm of man, though he seems but a fickle spirit to the minds of man!

Yeah, its hogwash, but add about 800 words and it is perfect for a tabloid.

Last but not least - it is always great to graduate with flying colors, but walking colors can work, especially as they are slightly easier and you are sane at the other end.

Anyhow. Skittles and Ponies. I'll add more tomorrow.

Phone Conversations from Work

There are reasons I hate answering the phone at work. Someone has to do it, and it usually falls to me. Most phone conversations are easy and quick. Others are... less so. As always, it is those that are not easy or quick that stick in the mind. They vary a bit, here and there, but it is like they take passages from the same script.

The whole of the bad conversation tree would go something like this (note: I do NOT include my name in this, to protect my own identity, and I also properly changed the name of the store at which I work.) -

Me: Hello, this is Soar.
Caller: Is this Soar?
Me: Yes, this is Soar, ma'am
Caller: The thrift store?
Me: Yes ma'am, we are a thrift store.
Caller: Are you open?
Me: Ma'am? Yes we are open.
Caller: Oh good. I didn't know you were open on (Sunday, Tuesday, Fridays, holidays, ever)
Me: Yes ma'am. Do you want to know our hours?
Caller: Can you tell me your hours?
Me: ... Yes. We are open today from 10am to ____, but we stop accepting donations at four.
Caller: You aren't accepting donations anymore?
Me: No ma'am, we just don't accept items after four-
Caller: But I have a lot of things for you.
Me: That's fine, but the back door is used for donations. The staff back there closes down at four.
Caller: I can't bring them in the front door?
Me: We would prefer not.
Caller: Well. I'd like to sell some items. What do you buy clothing at?
Me: Ma'am, we do not buy clothing. What you want is a consignment store, they buy used clothing. We are a charity-based thrift store.
Caller: You aren't consigment?
Me: No ma'am
Caller: Isn't this Soar?
Me: Yes ma'am, this is Soar.
Caller: The thrift store.
Me: Yes ma'am.
Caller: But you don't buy you said.
Me: No ma'am. We work on donations. Thrift is donations. Consignment is purchase.
Caller: So you don't buy.
Me: No ma'am.
Caller: What about computers?
Me: What about computers, ma'am?
Caller: Do you buy computers?
Me: We do not accept or purchase computers.
Caller: But you accept clothing
Me: Yes ma'am.
Caller: You just don't buy it.
Me: That is correct ma'am.
Caller: What if the computer works?
Me: We still won't accept it ma'am.
Caller: Where are you located?
Me: We are at ____ _____ in Fairfax, Virginia.
Caller: I would like directions from Northwest DC.
Me: Would you like me to connect you to someone who can give directions?
Caller: Yes. I would also like to speak with a manager about your buying policies.
Me: Yes ma'am. Please hold.
...

I may be exagerating, slightly. I may not, too. That example conversation, that's only a few minutes long if you count the awkward pauses. I've had worse that lasted five, ten minutes. They spiral downwards into an abyss of miscommunication and social discord from whence not even the spirit of Ma Bell can wisk one fully from. That's just what I deal with. There are legendary conversations which managers have dealt with that are three times as long.

But this, more than a little, explains why I twitch a little when a phone rings around me. Its certainly one of the key reasons why I do not own a cell phone.

Once Again - Or, Six Random Musings

Almost forgot. That won't do.

Promised myself I'd put something in this blog every night for a week, then think about relaxing the schedual (all worship the schedual) and what happens? I forget until the wee hours of the night which is... well, late. I don't necessarily get that bad, typing-wise, when late at night - or so I tell myself - but it certainly isn't helping.

Also, the topic I was going to write on is way too long, and I will never get it out in a decent time. So. Six random musings. That's what I am going to do. First six things that pop into my mind end up here. How bad can that be, right?

Hoo boy.

M'kay. First of all, SKITTLES and PONIES.

Yeah, okay. The next five musings, let's try a little more, um. Anything. Because that's random alright, but as a thought, its right up there with corporate creativity and the idea that telling young people that candy is bad for them is likely to accomplish any positive effect.

Which is true. Tell a young kid something is bad, and that kid will nod at you and in all likelihood go off and do the same exact thing five minutes later. Children don't work well with the pure abstract or shades of morality, especially when sugar is involved. This is why parents quickly learn to upgrade. "Candy rots your teeth," especially if some sort of visual or details of the rotting are involved, now that works. The child has a concrete reason to be wary of candy despite the sweet siren song of sugar. Concrete examples and solid detail - every parent's friend.

Also, since I seemed to cover skittles there, and keeping on the concept of children? Let's look at ponies. Every little girl who has ever wished for a pony probably is unaware that they eat a lot, and then all that edible matter comes out in a very certain way. Also, a pony will never be able to room with a child, no matter how 'cool' that would be. Be sure to point this out to young children when they argue for the traditional uberpet so that you can bargain them down to something more reasonable like a dog or a cat or a goldfish. Or a pet rock. They still have pet rocks, right?

Well. Even if they don't, how hard can it be? Really. Try it. You go find a rock with no sharp edges and not that big a size, wash off the dirt, and take it home. Ta-da. You have a new pet. Call it Steve or Fluffy or whatever. Basalt is a cool name for a pet, I assure you. It won't take up much room, will never destroy anything of yours by its own accord, doesn't eat, needs no medical bills, and will never want to be educated. If you are good at sculpture, then you can improve your pet, even.

Which brings me to hobbies. Get one that involves making something. Even if it is making someone laugh. Trust me. It's a lovely thing.

How many is that? Four? Ack, five, but that's only if I count the first one. Why did I have to pick six?

Well, I will take the first one because I am trying to do a speed post and better something terrible than to not follow through. Right? Right.

Its always easy to get a concensus when all you need to agree with is yourself. I have no problem just saying 'yes' and 'ah-ha' and so on. It makes my life that much easier. Of course, if you are a deeply argumentative person, have particularly annoying devils and angels on your metaphysical shoulders, multiple personalities or a number of additional voices in your head, it can get a little more difficult. One of them wants candy, one of them wants to sleep, one doesn't want either because of the nightmares of rotting teeth, one spews out nonsense that all the others scramble to try and make reasonable before it ambles out the mouth or gets typed into a blog (note from oddball voice #28 - BUTTERFLIES!), one of them tries to be the reasonable and rational human being, one is an internal censor keeping anything too weird from wandering out (like that paragraph about the tables with teeth [maybe next time I end up doing this late]), one tries to be relentlessly optimistic to try and balance all the others, and the last one is just trying to keep count.

Not that I'd know.

Skittles and ponies, ya'll. Me and my voices are taking up the new hobby of sleep!

So I get to thinking at work about the necessity of having a purpose. Now, I do not have the best job on the planet. I have little positive to say about it. I have quite a bit negative, but that's a post for another time.

Still, every time I think about it, I come to the same conclusion. Its better to have something to do than nothing at all. I can drive myself to the edge of muttering to myself and mad plans by having nothing to occupy myself properly. Now, I am not saying leisure isn't good. It's lovely. I wish I had more. I tend towards sloth - I just want to be a sloth with a goal or two. Interesting ideas are more than just something to keep the mind active. They're the grist that keep us all from going mad.

Which, of course, means the way to get through any given day involves finding something to keep my mind active that I don't walk away from when something pretty shines over another corner or find so vexing in some way that I abandon it when given oppportunity. I have many such interests. Of course, something that interests one that can be done as a way of earning a living - now that's a trick.

And if you think this topic is dry because I couldn't think of anything and just typed out the first thing that came to mind when I sat down, because it is better than nothing, then you win a cookie.

It was either this or the odd obsession I had today with sharpening pencils. Which was fun. The machine went whirl and then the pencils came out and they had these perfect tips and I could write in really really small text and it was fun and now I wanna go sharpen more stuff! ... ahem.

Hey. At least it kept the mind occupied, eh?

Musing on American Idol as Psychic Apparatus

Once again, making a post in the late hours when I am all but assured that I will be about as eloquent and effective a writer as Pauly Shore was an actor. Also, my chances of making bad '90s references goes through the roof. But them's the breaks, and better late than breaking the schedual.

(All worship the schedual)

So, anyway, I get to watching American Idol earlier (and I know I am not the only one) and the thought flickers through my mind that the braintrust of the live show - the judges - operate in a sort of psychological way. That is, there is a representitive of the ego, the super ego, and the id, and the last judge is the conscious mind contantly pinging between them.

Granted, two seasons ago this would have been a much easier case to make. Back then there were only three judges. The only argument for Consciousness we had on the show was Ryan Seacrest, who between jokes at Simon and faint worry for and about the contestants tries to be as professional and cheerful as possible. Which sort of fits the role.

More importantly, though, back then we had Paula Abdul. What an unrestrained Id she was for the program. Paula rarely thought before she spoke - oh, who am I kidding, it is very likely Paula rarely thought at any point during the season. She was such a wonderful creature of instinct. A better writer than me once said that Paula was representitive of all the dreams and well wishing of the audience. All those folks who cheer and clap regardless of what the performers do (and, on American Idol, I assure you someone could gurgle through a song and get a roaring response from that house), they found their avatar in Paula. She dreamt the big dreams, she saw the possibilities and the sparkles and all the great things that all these kids could get if they won. Granted, some of that was probably her altered state of consciousness. Regardless, Paula was the heart, the Id, of American Idol. Even if that heart was bleeding, and the Id was perpetually out looking for a lunch. Wikipedia defines the Id as "The unorganized part of the personality structure that contains the basic drives. The id acts as according to the 'pleasure principle', seeking to avoid pain or unpleasure arosed by increases in instinctual tension. The id is unconscious by definition." What better role than this for Paula, who rarely sounded coherent, who often got up and danced to songs she liked, who never stopped believing. This isn't a slam, mind you. While I don't think Paula was the best judge, someone that doggedly earnest, that purely sentimental was necessary for the show. She had heart, she was heart, and while it is easy (so easy) to mock that, like any good mind the show wouldn't have functioned without her.

Balancing Paula is of course Simon Cowell in for the super ego. The money grubber, the hard nosed realist. The one who doesn't so much care about the dreams so much as wanting proof that a singer has the necessary skill and talent to make it there. Cowell isn't nice. He has, by definition, no heart. He knows, as the super ego does, that heart gets in the way, blocks the road, gives those who don't have the shot false hope. Simon Cowell is the oracle of the rational mind. He's the slap in the face for those singers up there, while Paula is the soft comforting voice in the night. But Simon, for all his hard edges, is far more noticeably important. He may get booed a lot, but when you get down to brass tacks, he is the one that always tells the hard bottom line. Simon won't lie to someone to make them feel better. Like any good perfection seeking mind, he knows that rejection and pain aren't the enemy. Failure is not the end of the world, and Simon is there to tell people that if they'd listen. He tells a simple truth. If you are good enough for that point, you get a pat on the head and a warning not to falter. If you aren't, he'll tell you to worry. Evolve or die. Improve or be eliminated. Simon is only as important as the other judges, in the parts of the show we see, but because his role is so coldly rational it is easy to get him.

Of course, that leaves Randy Jackson. The ego. The part of the mind that handles the drives of the id, and strives for the perfection inheirent in the super ego, and still keeps on functioning. Randy gets the unpleasant job. He has to sound wise, rather than supportive (as Paula used to do) or critical (as Simon ever is). Randy's always had some... trouble with this. It isn't really his fault. Like the ego, he occupies a middle ground between two forces which staked their own territory and then realized they did it just a table away from something very different than themselves. Randy tries - he occasionally offers good critique, such as Simon, or empathizes like Paula. But his job, ultimately, is to look at the contestant not as glorified elements of themselves or a commodity that he has to sell, but as people at whatever stage of the competition they are at. Randy has the burden of trying to relate to a bunch of teens and twenty-somethings under truly crushing pressure like they are just who they are - people who, to some degree, he is responsible for letting into this place, and is watching being transformed by the show. Sometimes that transformation takes the form of crushing them, and sometimes it is molding them, and Randy has to relate to them as if that isn't the most important thing. Because it isn't. The ego acts to the reality principle. Randy tries to get through all the pressure, all the attitude and arrogance and fear and worry, and make things plain. I commend him, though I think he tripped here and there over the years.

So that was the early seasons. Paula talking about the pretty beautiful singers and how they were so bright, Simon finding every flaw and slamming on it because if he didn't then someone who would break would get through or someone who wasn't high enough quality would qualify, and Randy, in his own words, "Keeping it real". Or at least trying in that general direction.

Last season, though, the formula changed. It had been shift awhile. Paula, having embraced her inner child or just getting wonky, had been rumored to be on her way out for awhile, and the consciousness (Ryan) acting more as an objective intermediary. An avatar of the individual viewer, combined with an agent of necessity to move things along. The role fit him better. So they added another judge (as you, whomever has actually read this far probably knows) to fill that void. Kara DioGuardi is meant to be current, to know what is needed in the industry. She fills the holes growing between the three other judges like a good conscious mind is balanced in itself. She lives very much in the present, has a sharp eye and a hard tongue if necessary. She knows how to hold a grudge, that's for sure. She's more forgiving than Simon, and less so than Paula was or Randy is.

This make-up would have worked great, really. The four balanced each other like some psychologist's idea of a musical party game or an ancient philosopher's imagining of four guardians who stand at the foot of the muses keeping their appointment calenders clear. But Paula left, and now Ellen DeGeneres has taken a seat at the judging table and...

That brings me back to my thought on the braintrust, earlier this evening. Because almost as soon as the idea occured, I realized it worked better in the past. I'm not entirely sure of this new dynamic. Randy seems to be sliding into Paula's old place, but as an id he'll be more watchful. A wild bobcat looking for dinner rather than a pampered kitten looking for affection. Kara has seemingly abandoned consciousness - stark evaluation of the present position - for Randy's old place, not far away (Remember, ego and consciousness go hand in hand) of trying to relate to the contestants on an individual human level in relation to how they are doing versus how they should be doing. Its fuzzier, but with Randy now the most idealistic of the three known quantities (take a moment to shudder in fear) its just easier to take that position and let him out in the dark moors that used to be Paula's realm. Ellen is... adapting. I like her on the show, but I still don't know how she fits.

At least Simon is still who he has always been. The critical, viscious, clear eyed lump who will tell you with a level look if you aren't good enough, and do it as a kindness.

Then I realized something. Simon usually looks bored. Which was my other big thought. The super ego is the most stable thing in the place. Simon the most stable part of the show. Until he leaves, of course. His base position has always been bored. That is his resting state, the point to which he always returns. That's his job. He's not comfortable, or particularly enthused. Because the only way he is supposed to be, the only way that his state changes, is if someone on that stage in front of him makes him be not bored. Evoking emotion - forcing the rational to riot, to arose the heart of a indifferent man - is the only way that any contestant gets anything out of Simon. Its why he calls so many songs boring. Because that performance failed the simple litmus test of making him care one way or another. The things that matter, they'll make him feel despite his misgivings, despite the position he holds.

Light save anyone that makes him angry or disappointed, though. I notice those usually leave pretty quick, though.

Anyhow. Just my random musings. I really need to learn how to conclude these better and start on them earlier.

A Bedtime Story

Almost forgot to post something. That won't do. How about a nice bedtime story?

*************

"Once upon a time there was a guy who did a thing for a girl because she was pretty and had a crown and a kingdom as a dowry and because as brave and strong as the guy was he was also rather shallow and marrying into money and position just seemed easier than working for a living. So..."

"MOM! Dad is screwing up the bedtime story again!"

On Scheduals - Or, Why I Am Worried

I have never been that good with single draft writing, nor am I all that skilled at off the cuff conversation. Which is another reason why I find it rather odd that I am doing any sort of blogging, even if it is the equivilent of private writing (because I sincerely doubt anyone is reading these).

Add to that my somewhat listless, procrastinating nature, and I find the idea of writing down any sort of post daunting. I know it sounds like complaints, again and some more, but it isn't. Its an explaination, because I am doing this regardless.

To start is difficult, and that is a truth that rarely changes. Objects in motion tend to stay in motion, and those at rest tend to do nothing more than grow moss. Getting the latter to become the former takes actual impetus, but all it takes is any one of the hundreds of distractions in life to take momentum from a task at hand. Some times it may feel easy to begin, and the more a task becomes a habit the less energy required to make sure one keeps with it. But habits, like everything else, need that moment of decision and effort to keep at them.

So, while I do not believe I am producing good writing here, I am going to keep trying. I'll need to be finding topics soon enough - there is only so long I can mutter esoterically in the shadowy corners of the internet. But I will not be doing what I half expected I would. I won't be giving this blog up after a couple desolutory stabs at it.

For better or worse, this is where I start. Let's keep up the momentum.

On Misanthropy - Or, A Secret

Let me tell you a secret.

Most people are, for lack of better terms, good or at the very least nuetral. I mean this entirely objectively, mind you, as I take no stance on the absolute virtue or evil of mankind. As an observer, though, the average human being will find most other human beings pleasant or at least bearable in the majority of interactions. We as a species are social creatures, and part of that is, by and large, we don't spend the majority of our time annoying one another. This holds true. Go on a day out with others, and actually try to keep track. Bet you the ones you like or just notice outweigh anyone who makes a negative impression.

Then you try working with the public.

This is where prior experiences fail. Working with the public, with people en masse descending upon you, that's entirely different from relating with people in a day to day way. For those of you who have never had this experience, we aren't talking about a line of a dozen folks. Working with the public is when you stop talking about groups, about crowds, and start using terms like 'society' and 'clusters'. When you refer to the day in ways which imply less linguistic communication as interactions with biomass.

You deal with one or two or ten or twenty people, and most of them will be nice or kind, and the occasional 'other' doesn't really impinge on your mental well-being. But you start dealing with folks by the dozen, and those negative instances start adding up. At which point some other facts will start making themselves apparent. The first and foremost is the impact of emotional memory.

We remember things better, as people, if we associate it with other things. Emotion is a great anchor. Something irritates or elates you, chances are you'll keep it in mind a lot longer than something that stirred not your heart at all. Negative feelings - dislike, pain, anger, fear, and that ilk - they make an experience stick like glue. Combine that with instances of dealing with the public, and the statistically enhanced likelihood of some sort of nasty run in along the way (or multiple run ins) and you run into why retail and public relations jobs are murder on the psyche. A person will deal with more than a hundred people over the course of a day in even the more basic of those jobs. Chances are, they'll forget the, say, 90% of those people who were fine, where nothing went wrong or even things were rather cheery. But the 9% that was harder, that was spent dealing with harsh, demanding, and bitter encounters - anyone in those jobs remembers those much more.

These unpleasantnesses, as I note, accumulate over time. You don't remember the good people much. You can't forget the bad. It leads to getting jaded, cynical. Ask someone if they've worked retail. Ask them how it made them feel about folks. See if their mouths' twist.

I may be over elaborate - I've waited way too late to start this post, and I am tired. But this is the secret - its easy to remember the negative, so those who see it often sometimes forget the positive.

But there is always that one last percentage point. Those instances that are good enough that, even over the course of a bad day, still stand out afterwards. Sometimes they're just the bright spot. Other days, a really good customer, an understanding client, a helpful associate, is all that keeps the flagging fellow trapped in the service or retail industries functional.

***********

Yeah. So. I suppose next time I'll try a topic a less esoteric. If I am putting ideas and such here, it would be nice to have some that aren't as snarled.

On Beginnings - Or, I am doing this for all the odd reasons

So. I've decided to create a blog.
I am doing this, granted, none of the reasons that most people create blogs. I don't really worry about my voice getting out there. I am not concerned with sharing this with friends and family. I am not looking to inform or educate, expound, expose, or coerce.
It can be argued, in fact, that if I am a lone voice crying out in the wilderness... Nifty. I like wilderness. Less people there, and for someone who started on the introvert side of the equation then took a sharp left turn into misanthrope territory, the middle of nowhere just means you don't have to worry about upsetting the neighbors.
But at this point, any of my hypothetical visitors (leastwise, the ones who haven't wandered off to greener, or at least more cheery, pastures) might be wondering why I am actually doing this. Simple. I'm rusty.
Used to be I was good with words. Still am, maybe, when talking. Those times I am not tripping over the English language (let's be kind, call it 75% of the time. Cough.) But writing? Agch and alas, I am out of practice. Thus, a blog. Hopefully with at least one or two people I rope into watching to hunt my lazy rear up when I haven't left a post or two in awhile. I hope to have a schedual for this blog. Three or four times a week. Really, I do.
We'll see how that goes.
I also know that a blog is, well, useful for proving I am an articulate, intelligent, learned gentleman (camoflague! I mean, um, important qualifications) should I apply for some sort of job position where prospective employers wonder about my ability to string words together into actual conversations. So there is that.
So. I've now written my first blog post, and its entirely about why I am going to try writing blog posts. How very meta of me. Hopefully I'll develop more of a variety, or else I am going to bore myself into some sort of comatose state long before I get anywhere with this.

Anyhow, if you actually read this whole intro, you've earned a cookie. Go on, and make sure its a good one. I'll distract the guy monitoring your diet.
I promise.
You trust me, right?

Heh.