basic

Goals, shmoals

botski — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 21:56:27 +0000

Is it too early to assemble a list of goals for the New Year?

I’m probably the wrong person to ask such a question.

After all, I long for this time of year. I become enraptured with the thought of possibility, crafting laundry lists of to-dos, imagining up DIY projects, healthful meal plans and begin devising a schedule packed with regular jaunts to the gym to achieve the tight ass I’ve always dreamed of.

In all honesty, I become completely delusional.

I bring this topic up for the fact that the folks at Apartment Therapy inadvertently kick-started my goal setting with “5 Small Decluttering Projects for the Rest of the Year.”

By the looks of it, only two out of the five on the list are applicable to yours truly, but arduous enough. I’ve been meaning for years — YEARS, I say — to properly organize my filing system. Granted, it’s really not that bad, but I live by the creedo that things can always be better.

To put things into perspective, I have this game that I enjoy playing and it’s called: “What If I Died And Someone Has To Go Through All My Shit?” Basically, it involves me semi-regularly shredding any embarrassing notebooks of sad sack poetry, deleting unflattering documentation of my failed attempts at gussying myself up, and throwing away shirts with seriously gross pit stains. What can I say? I sweat. A lot.

Tackling my “junk drawer,” which has evolved into boxes upon boxes of Comic Con paraphernalia, birthday card mementos and stickers — lots, and lots of stickers — is something that has fallen by the wayside. I’ve always meant to start with a clean slate whenever I’ve taken up a new residence. Things haven’t exactly worked out as planned and I’ve set up camp with the same ‘ol useless junk that needs to either be properly filed away or chucked for eternity.

And with that, I hereby declare that I will live under the oppression of useless shit no longer!

This here marks my commitment to doing away with said crap before the New Year begins. Too ambitious to think that I can ~~complete~~ start this over the four-day weekend?

We shall see, friend. We shall see.

Tryptophan, you will not get the best of me.

Studies on the horizon

botski — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 19:27:52 +0000

In two months, I’ll officially be a student again.

After a couple of years of toying with the idea of going back to school to pursue a master’s degree in Library and Information Science, I’ve finally made the commitment (see: financial) to let my love for all things literary take me on a new adventure.

Past gigs within publishing and the nearly extinct world of newspapers left and indelible mark and I hope to pass on my adoration for print to the eager and not-so eager eyes of adolescents. I have a wealth of memories from the years spent navigating the dilapidated stacks of West Orange Library. I can only assume a new breed of awkward honor rollers will need guidance from someone of their ilk, and I will gladly oblige.

West Orange Library, you see, is the lone locale where I learned to efficiently tear out the pages from magazines to avoid purchasing them, in particular the big-girl rag, Sassy and Vanity Fair. It’s where I inhaled human anatomy books and became dedicated to grossing out other kids by pulling out my perfectly dog-eared pictorials of dicks ‘n vaginas. Basically, it’s where a pervert was born. It’s where I read one too many sleazy reads on the occult and acquired a retarded amount of superstitions, now known in part as obsessive compulsive disorder. It’s where I got my hands on a cassette of The Breeders and fell in love with Kim Deal. It’s where Ray told me about the time he “lost his gum in battle.” It’s the one place of my youth that I recall not worrying about feeling out of place.

I don’t remember any one face of West Orange Library. Maybe that’s why I liked it so much. There was never any sort of tyrannical authority figure, but always a watchful and helpful eye around to lend a hand when History Day assignments rolled in and consumed lives.

While the idea of becoming a teacher intrigues me, it also scares the shit out of me. Holding court as a librarian feels like a comfortable alternative. I’ll have the ability to reach out to the youngsters, but without being one of the many adults in which they learn to loathe through those tumultuous, melodramatic years.

The other reason (there’s always an ulterior motive) is that this won’t interfere with my nightly obligations. Batgirl was a librarian, you know. So, my nights of fighting crime need not come to a close.

Masuka

botski — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 19:55:35 +0000

Hey, remember when I proclaimed (to myself) that I was going to be back with a blogging vengeance? You know, because I have such an expansive fanbase (Hi, Mom!) eager to read my witty repertoire of saccharine scatology sentiments, dick jokes and pleas to carnally devour Dan Boyle and two thirds of the San Jose Sharks active roster.

I’m sorta like the female Vincent Masuka (only I’m not a little Asian scientist… or am I?) with timidity towards timing because we all know that unleashing the beast of profanity that lives within only results in further social isolation.

Apparently, not everyone is partial to the hilarity of familial ass-to-mouth jokes. Prudes, I say.

This is simply another gentle attempt at reassuring myself (because no one even knows this blog exists) that I can craft cohesive sentences that some stranger may come across and find mildly amusing, prompting said stranger to forward on the URL to the big cheese of a notable publishing house, which ultimately results in a book deal and loads of fame, fortune and culminates with an ass lift / boob job.

Or, maybe today is a slow day at work and I don’t want it to come down to me reading Craigslist’s “Missed Connections” in Zurich to pass the time.

The sniffs

botski — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 02:05:56 +0000

Cooped up all day, drifting in out and out of cough suppressant fueled slumber, dreaming of cartoons and Kim Deal’s angelic coo.

Neglectful, I am

botski — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 18:45:38 +0000

There are things to report. Always things to report. But I am considerably lacking in the committment and / or ability to detail the comings and goings of my life as I once did in my youth. (Uh, is that acceptable? To use “youth,” I mean. I’m kinda sorta, but not really getting up there in dog years.) Before I digress and wax nostaligic about personas that now lay dormant within LiveJournal and Diaryland, here are the latest proceedings that have come to pass:

1) A new job begins in a matter of days. Monday, to be exact. I am eager to be far more engaged both professionally and personally. What does it say about me when criteria for accepting a new position involves whether or not there are cupcake enthusiasts to consort with?

2) I haven’t cut my hair in over ~~two~~ three months. For someone with an almost religious dedication to shorning their locks, this has not be an oversight, but an attempt to try on longer hair for size. It’s been roughly 10 years since the case of metalhead dude mistaken identity, I think I’m ready for the healing to begin.

3) Holiday. Celebrate! The countdown has begun.

4) Josh and I have become fanatical about “Princess Robot Bubblegum.”

5) I may or may not be starting a faux “Lord of the Rings” tribute band named Second Breakfast.

Hey, we’re at APE together!

botski — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 23:31:45 +0000

Another installment of the not-so regularly scheduled APE (I sure do miss when it was in April!) went down this past weekend. I brought my camera, but completely forgot that I had it tucked away in my bag due to a high-volume of free samples acquired.

Nestled under 16 packages of facial tissues, which were cloaked in an advertisement for some company that I will never remember the name of, hid my beloved photo snappin’ device. Returning home with a lack of any photographic evidence from the convention floor wasn’t a total bust, I suppose. The surplus of face wipes now in my possession is conveniently timed with the seasonal dripping of nose juice.

With scant funds at my disposal, I had a particularly restricted budget prohibiting any frivolous spending — save for $7. That said, I found two items that I simply could not resist:

1) “No Klingons” button
2) You Otter Know by Aiyana Udesen

Saludos

botski — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 19:59:26 +0000

me llamo cakes.
y tu?