I posted a short blog entry this morning and expected to follow it up later with a longer post, but then someone called what I did "microblogging." And said it was nice.
So it's a thing. Brief, meaningful or well-thought blog posts are a thing.
Yay! So with that in mind, that earlier post will be my main post for the day. I will try not to make it a habit, but...sometimes I just feel a creative urge. And believe it or not, I spent more time editing and reworking that post than I have on other much longer posts.
Game 1 of the World Series. The Giants are killing the Tigers, 6-0. Go Giants!
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Image(s)
While paused at a traffic light during my pre-dawn commute, I noticed the silhouette of a woman (presumably) in the car in front of me styling her hair.
Through the dew streaked rear window of her car, it looked as if she was conducting an orchestra of her hair. Her elbows jutting out and bowing. Hands diving and disappearing into the headrest.
Or perhaps she was assuming a pose of a Hindu goddess. And for that moment,she was bathed in the divine artificial glow and hum of the red light.
And then it changed to green.
Through the dew streaked rear window of her car, it looked as if she was conducting an orchestra of her hair. Her elbows jutting out and bowing. Hands diving and disappearing into the headrest.
Or perhaps she was assuming a pose of a Hindu goddess. And for that moment,she was bathed in the divine artificial glow and hum of the red light.
And then it changed to green.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
O-Dark-Thirty, Part One
I am not a morning person. It usually takes me awhile to roll out of bed in the morning. Normally I hit the snooze button at least 5 times. That's on a good morning. A bad morning consists of of sleeping for an additional hour in 9 minute increments. 9 minute increments. Why is it 9 minutes? Is it 9 minutes? I heard somewhere it was, and I think I confirmed it before. Anyway.
There is more lucid dreaming that goes on in that 9 minutes than my nocturnal slumber, at least that I can remember. When my alarm goes off the first time, it usually feels like my soul is being ripped out of me by the jaws of a steam shovel. Seriously, I think of that steam shovel in P.D. Eastman's book Are You My Mother? My soul is that baby bird. Sleep is my mother.
Up until the time it died, I had the same digital clock and radio for around 20 years. At least. It was a rectangular. It had a wood-colored top where the small panel of controls sat in the lower left corner. The front had the digital read out as well as the old-style radio dial. The digital numbers had a dimmer switch too.
I remember sneakily reading Garfield books by the digital numbered lights while in bed as a kid. And I remember its soul-ripping klaxon. It pierced my slumber as a child and all the way up through high school. I don't think I took it to college with me, but when I moved into an apartment near home I got the digital blaring banshee back. The default alarm sounded like an elderly deaf woman wailing. I think that's the best description. Remember those deafening radio signals in the story Harrison Bergeron? It was also like that...but for my sleep...my dreams. I usually have no idea what I was dreaming or thinking before it went off.
At some point I started using the radio alarm option. Regardless of the alarm change, waking up was still like leaving a swamp while weighted down with 20 sleeping, easily-irritated little people. Notice, I said little people, not midgets.
At any rate, I think I will have to continue this post later today or tomorrow. This was meant to be a post about the peaceful time and nice experiences I've had in the early morning hours, despite the fact that I am not a morning person.
So, stay tuned for the next post where we may have a special guest appearance from Ted Knight.
There is more lucid dreaming that goes on in that 9 minutes than my nocturnal slumber, at least that I can remember. When my alarm goes off the first time, it usually feels like my soul is being ripped out of me by the jaws of a steam shovel. Seriously, I think of that steam shovel in P.D. Eastman's book Are You My Mother? My soul is that baby bird. Sleep is my mother.
Up until the time it died, I had the same digital clock and radio for around 20 years. At least. It was a rectangular. It had a wood-colored top where the small panel of controls sat in the lower left corner. The front had the digital read out as well as the old-style radio dial. The digital numbers had a dimmer switch too.
I remember sneakily reading Garfield books by the digital numbered lights while in bed as a kid. And I remember its soul-ripping klaxon. It pierced my slumber as a child and all the way up through high school. I don't think I took it to college with me, but when I moved into an apartment near home I got the digital blaring banshee back. The default alarm sounded like an elderly deaf woman wailing. I think that's the best description. Remember those deafening radio signals in the story Harrison Bergeron? It was also like that...but for my sleep...my dreams. I usually have no idea what I was dreaming or thinking before it went off.
At some point I started using the radio alarm option. Regardless of the alarm change, waking up was still like leaving a swamp while weighted down with 20 sleeping, easily-irritated little people. Notice, I said little people, not midgets.
At any rate, I think I will have to continue this post later today or tomorrow. This was meant to be a post about the peaceful time and nice experiences I've had in the early morning hours, despite the fact that I am not a morning person.
So, stay tuned for the next post where we may have a special guest appearance from Ted Knight.
Monday, October 22, 2012
Tired and Tardy
So, I think my policy is that if I don't get to start a blog entry before 10 PM on a week night, my post will be brief. On purpose. It's the last game of the NLCS. San Francisco Giants vs the St. Louis Cardinals. It's pouring at AT&T Park in San Francisco. It's the top of the ninth, two are on, and the Giants are winning, 9-0. 9-0. Yeah, it's not looking good for the current World Champions. Still, never say die, right? Right. I think the umps are considering delaying the game due to the rain, but really, it's the top of the night, two out, two on. The Giant's fans and players are dying to see this game end. They are putting in Sergio Romo to close out the game. The umps are working on the mound now for the pitcher. This is October baseball.
I definitely have some ideas for the next two blog posts. I would share them, but I won't. Which, I guess that means I wouldn't share them because I didn't.
My mom and dad came up to Skokie to visit this weekend. We had a nice and relaxing time. We didn't need to do much driving around or entertaining. We just visited, ate some good food, and laughed a lot.
One strike away. Matt Holliday is batting.
Am I really live blogging a game now?
Holliday pops it up and the game is over. Giants win the National League Pennant.
Oh well, there's always next year. However, my next blog post will be tomorrow.
I definitely have some ideas for the next two blog posts. I would share them, but I won't. Which, I guess that means I wouldn't share them because I didn't.
My mom and dad came up to Skokie to visit this weekend. We had a nice and relaxing time. We didn't need to do much driving around or entertaining. We just visited, ate some good food, and laughed a lot.
One strike away. Matt Holliday is batting.
Am I really live blogging a game now?
Holliday pops it up and the game is over. Giants win the National League Pennant.
Oh well, there's always next year. However, my next blog post will be tomorrow.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Full Count
The St. Louis Cardinals are in post-season baseball again. It's amazing to me that they manage to make it into post-season, but I am always excited when they do. I'm excited and nervous. I get nervous because, well, "I am" a member of the team. I am a co-manager, co-owner, bat boy, a pitching coach and the batting coach. For most of the 162 games in a given baseball season, I am not as involved in the day-to-day games, in fact, I am more like a hot dog vendor. However, when it comes to post-season, that's when I'm called up, that's when my team needs me to play a vital role in the Cardinal's post-season success.
Well, that's at least how I feel.
And it's really no picnic. I'm sometimes relieved when the Cardinals don't make it into post-season because I won't be a nervous wreck for late September and most of October. When I say nervous, I should say an anxious, pacing-the-floor, face-palming, mouth-frothing basket case. I go from utter extremes and saying things like, "They suck. They don't deserve to win" to "Is this team unreal? They are unbeatable!" I try to pretend I'm not interested, but it's just no good. As soon as I think they are completely out of a series, they rally in the ninth inning on a 3-2 count. And they really do this! They rally on a 3-2 count! They just did this against the Washington Nationals. The Washington Nationals were the new hopefuls and the Cardinals ruined their chances.
The Cardinals were in the post-season last year. They made it in on the Wild Card and then won the whole blasted thing against the Texas Rangers who were in the World Series a second time in a row! And I believe the Cardinals were one out away from losing it all. Then David Freese hit a beautiful home run that sent in three runs for a walk-off victory.
I was raised a Cardinal's fan. And in small towns in southern Illinois, you were pretty much three things: Christian, Republican and a Cardinal's fan. The Cardinal fandom is largely due to the AM radio frequency of KMOX. Most people in southern Illinois, Arkansas, northern Kentucky, southern Indiana and almost all of Missouri listened to KMOX out of St. Louis for sports. KMOX had all the Cardinal games. They gave up the rights for the broadcasts for a brief period, but now they are back to running every Cardinal game. Their best broadcaster was Jack Buck. I grew up listening to him on a crackly AM radio while riding in the truck out to visit my grandpa. It's another one of those warm nostalgic feelings.
I have not always been a baseball fan, but I've always been a Cardinal's fan. By that I mean, my passion and zeal for baseball has not always been there, but my default setting has always been the Cardinals. Much like some Christians are Christians in name only. They've not stepped inside a church in twenty years, but when they are asked on surveys they usually mark Christian.
I stopped being a fan for a variety of reasons, but I think some of it was tied to some weird rebellion against my dad. Dad and I didn't always get along. I was a difficult, jerk-of-a-kid at times. I really was. I don't think it was just normal adolescent/teenager stuff because I continued to be a jerk, especially towards my dad, long into college and graduate school. Why? There are a variety of reasons, but I'm not sure it's important to go into those things here. Nothing bad or horrible happened between us. Nothing like that at all. My mom and dad were both incredible parents that did an amazing job raising me and my sister. I was a very difficult person to get along with for a long time. I'm sure my parents would say I wasn't that bad, but it's in the past now.
Back to baseball. I think when I started to really reconnect with my dad is when my interest in baseball was rekindled. And when I started to get back into baseball, I really started to reconnect with my dad. There's something about talking baseball with my dad. I expect some men out there have similar feelings, but perhaps the sport is football or basketball, but not soccer. Never soccer. Just kidding. Sorta.
Over the past ten years I've been following baseball and my Cardinals with greater frequency. Been following spring training. Listening to the Cards games on the radio, which is still my favorite medium for following baseball, streaming radio, TV or an app called Gameday which gives play-by-plays with pitch placement, at-bats, etc. But there is still nothing like post-season baseball. There's this excitement and electricity in the air. As I said, I go from a passive watcher/follower to a member of the team. I feel like an overenthusiastic mascot that really believes he is instrumental in his team winning. And no matter what time it is, if the Cardinals clinch a post-season series or world series, my dad is the first person I call. After all, we both know the Cardinals couldn't have done it without us.
Well, that's at least how I feel.
And it's really no picnic. I'm sometimes relieved when the Cardinals don't make it into post-season because I won't be a nervous wreck for late September and most of October. When I say nervous, I should say an anxious, pacing-the-floor, face-palming, mouth-frothing basket case. I go from utter extremes and saying things like, "They suck. They don't deserve to win" to "Is this team unreal? They are unbeatable!" I try to pretend I'm not interested, but it's just no good. As soon as I think they are completely out of a series, they rally in the ninth inning on a 3-2 count. And they really do this! They rally on a 3-2 count! They just did this against the Washington Nationals. The Washington Nationals were the new hopefuls and the Cardinals ruined their chances.
The Cardinals were in the post-season last year. They made it in on the Wild Card and then won the whole blasted thing against the Texas Rangers who were in the World Series a second time in a row! And I believe the Cardinals were one out away from losing it all. Then David Freese hit a beautiful home run that sent in three runs for a walk-off victory.
I was raised a Cardinal's fan. And in small towns in southern Illinois, you were pretty much three things: Christian, Republican and a Cardinal's fan. The Cardinal fandom is largely due to the AM radio frequency of KMOX. Most people in southern Illinois, Arkansas, northern Kentucky, southern Indiana and almost all of Missouri listened to KMOX out of St. Louis for sports. KMOX had all the Cardinal games. They gave up the rights for the broadcasts for a brief period, but now they are back to running every Cardinal game. Their best broadcaster was Jack Buck. I grew up listening to him on a crackly AM radio while riding in the truck out to visit my grandpa. It's another one of those warm nostalgic feelings.
I have not always been a baseball fan, but I've always been a Cardinal's fan. By that I mean, my passion and zeal for baseball has not always been there, but my default setting has always been the Cardinals. Much like some Christians are Christians in name only. They've not stepped inside a church in twenty years, but when they are asked on surveys they usually mark Christian.
I stopped being a fan for a variety of reasons, but I think some of it was tied to some weird rebellion against my dad. Dad and I didn't always get along. I was a difficult, jerk-of-a-kid at times. I really was. I don't think it was just normal adolescent/teenager stuff because I continued to be a jerk, especially towards my dad, long into college and graduate school. Why? There are a variety of reasons, but I'm not sure it's important to go into those things here. Nothing bad or horrible happened between us. Nothing like that at all. My mom and dad were both incredible parents that did an amazing job raising me and my sister. I was a very difficult person to get along with for a long time. I'm sure my parents would say I wasn't that bad, but it's in the past now.
Back to baseball. I think when I started to really reconnect with my dad is when my interest in baseball was rekindled. And when I started to get back into baseball, I really started to reconnect with my dad. There's something about talking baseball with my dad. I expect some men out there have similar feelings, but perhaps the sport is football or basketball, but not soccer. Never soccer. Just kidding. Sorta.
Over the past ten years I've been following baseball and my Cardinals with greater frequency. Been following spring training. Listening to the Cards games on the radio, which is still my favorite medium for following baseball, streaming radio, TV or an app called Gameday which gives play-by-plays with pitch placement, at-bats, etc. But there is still nothing like post-season baseball. There's this excitement and electricity in the air. As I said, I go from a passive watcher/follower to a member of the team. I feel like an overenthusiastic mascot that really believes he is instrumental in his team winning. And no matter what time it is, if the Cardinals clinch a post-season series or world series, my dad is the first person I call. After all, we both know the Cardinals couldn't have done it without us.
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