L: Never making the connection

It seems sometimes that all the recent tohughts of my life spiral around a small group of matters, related and unrelated, joining them. I really should have posted at some earlier point in the past two days. It'll be difficult to keep straight, and I'm going to end up babbling... which of course is what I always do anyhow, so there won't be any discontinuity.

The notion of a generational catastrophe is one I've already broached in this blog, and it's one I happen to believe in. On Sunday, I was reading over Time Magazine's Entire Population of the Year: You. Now, I was kind of sold on the idea, I thought it was neat, because hey: we've done some pretty nifty things with the internet. But reading the article over, I was less and less sold on the notion that "You" was truly deserving. It all just seemed like a massive accumulation of bullshit.

Yes, Wikipedia and YouTube are immensely popular, as are Facebook and MySpace, but aside from encouraging shut-ins, what do they amount to? I'm on Facebook, primarily as a means of stalking my friends. I'm on YouTube, mostly because I made a movie and would like people to see how poor quality it is. I frequent Wikipedia, really because I'm just too damn lazy to crack a book. It's not changing my life, nor that of anyone except those rare YouTube and MySpace celebrities who are lucky enough to get interviewed by Time magazine.

So I'm still wondering what my generation means, and if it's this, I'm a little nauseous, but attempting to put myself at ease. It ain't easy. Another recurring theme is my ongoing fascination with the beat writers, to whom I discovered numerous connections when composing my long feature article for Stephen Douglas' class. The article's on mature comics. R. Crumb was an acqauintence of the beats in San Francisco, and Alan Moore counts William S. Burroughs among his influences (well, who doesn't?)

Jody told me yesterday that she was having flashbacks (or as she put it, "visions,") of my presentation, which was encouraging for my mark, certainly. When I wrote about it here, I made a number of typos -- I'll let you to pick them out.

There's an ongoing joke among my friends that I seem earmarked for greatness. I tell them, I'm modest, because if I'm not, then once I realize how awesome I am, the whole damn thing will be ruined. I mean, for me to explain it like this, it already sounds pretty fuckin' egotistical, but this blog being an exquisite exercise in narcisism to begin with, that I think can be forgiven. I think people expect something from me, I've no idea what it's going to be. I came up for this really funny idea for a play where one of the main characters is painted on the wall. I think it's the funniest idea I've ever had, but I'm pretty sure it's funny only in my head.

Today was my "Office Olympics" day. I'll explain: in the episode of The Office (US) entitled "Office Olympics," manager Michael Scott leaves for the day (along with Dwight,) so Jim Halpert, bored with his paperwork, begins arranging a series of "Olympics" based on materials from around the office... boxes of paper snowshoe racing, doing laps holding cups of coffee, that kind of thing. The whole matter gets really carried away, but the final event is interrupted with Michael and Dwight come back. Despite seemingly getting carried away with distractions, Jim recounts at the end of the episode that it was "just another day at the office... I finished my paperwork and closed two sales. So, actually, it was more productive."

I knew I was going to be bored today. It was kind of like test-driving what my internship would be, because I was sitting alone in the newsroom (well, in company of the busy first-years.) I tried to arrange a lunch with a friend who had taken the day off, but she was adamant against that, because she had shit to do. So bored, I went all the way to the mall for coffee, becayse I've lost faith in the Sheridan Tim Hortons. The one at the mall isn't great, either. I should have probably gone to the one across the street from the mall. So eventually I got back to school and got down to business, trying to get interviews for my first sceneandheard article. Then I spent like an hour doing a crossword puzzles, the jumble, and word search, because that's become my habit. Then I ate lunch, which is a process in and of itself because I had to go all the way to the microwave and take care of the meat (I've become somewhat particular in regards to my sandwiches these days, or maybe just routine,) buy a Coke, and then wander upstairs seeing who was around. It was after talking to Jess that I realized I should probably be writing my long feature article. So I set to work on that for a few hours, hitting 1800 or so around 5:30, not even halfway through my potential content but a mere 500 words or so from the wordcount target. So I got a lot done today.

The thing is, while the original pitch for the article was pretty narrow, when I factor in the many suggestions he gave me last week, the article could very well be a book. Okay, that's exaggerating the matter, but the point is, it's a cumbersome fuckin' article.

A cumbersome article I should probably finish writing, as it's due tomorrow. 500 words isn't such a big deal, but it's making them come out in the right order, I'm finding is the problem.

So I'm gonna go do that, I'll settle my angst with the universe later.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotts