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Bloggers & Social Media Experts Are Delusional
Warning: I don’t know what this post is about so I can’t tell you if I am going to rant, write about my kids, talk about sex, writing or anything else because I am just writing now. It may not follow the headline or it might.
It is an exercise in free thought. This is me opening up the grand cavern between my ears and just clearing it out. Not going to be censored or edited. It is just my thoughts and that might get me in trouble, embarrass you and me or might not do a damn thing at all.
I really don’t know because I am just writing about whatever comes to mind because I am frustrated now. Frustrated because I am in the in-between place where I don’t have everything I want but am so damn close I can see, touch and taste it. Frustrated because my inclination is to push harder and that won’t work. Won’t matter if I push harder because I can’t make time move faster…or slower.
Drove around to clear my head and saw a sign for massage. Thought about getting one and then I remembered that just before I left for Texas a guy told me he got a blow job for $40 bucks in that place and thought about whether a $40 blow job makes you feel good, bad or indifferent.
Is she thinking about laundry or getting you out of there as fast as she can so she can get to the next customer. I didn’t stop at that place to get a massage nor did I stop at any other because I knew I was going to play ball that night and it didn’t make sense to do it nor do I want to go to one of those places.
It is not my thing but damn a good massage would be nice.
Post Length and Frequency
I have had multiple conversations with people about how often we should post and how frequently and I almost never agree with what I hear.
People keep telling me about how people don’t read anything longer than 500 words and how they don’t publish “too often” because they don’t want to upset their readers. They tell me that more people will read my work if I spend more time writing better posts and don’t publish as frequently.
Sometimes when we talk about these things I start to tune out and think about other things like how many people are getting $40 blow jobs and how many bloggers exaggerate about how well they are doing.
And then I wonder how many of you are going to wonder about me and $40 blow jobs and what that might do to my SEO. It doesn’t really matter much to me because I write because I love this stuff and because it is cathartic. And then I look to my right and I see a stack of old pictures and I see me.
I am about 20 or so and I remember that day. Just got back from camp and I got a goodbye blow job from my girlfriend before we both left to go back to school. I don’t know what happened to her or where she is now. Haven’t ever looked her up on social media platforms or really thought about her.
Probably says volumes about our relationship but I guarantee that moment was better than a $40 blow job.
What I Should Be Doing
What I should be doing now is focusing more intently on wwriting stories. What I should focus on is taking those stories from the rough, raw pieces they are and converting them into something that can be built upon.
This is guilt speaking now. Guilt because for years I have been saying this and I haven’t ever finished it. I take some of them and move them along. I put the words down and create the characters that you and I want to read about. Take those characters and put them in situations that are interesting and relatable and I see in my mind the foundation and completion of it all.
I see a couple who weathers multiple storms and who figure out how to overcome great odds and adversity because even though it is hard, complicated and complex it is what they do.
They look at 1724, 83168 and 5969 and see not just questions but answers because the numbers are a guide and they serve as puzzle pieces.
So what I should be doing is focusing on that and instead I keep mentioning $40 blow jobs but maybe it is because I can see story elements there and maybe that is what is driving this. I know some of you are thinking it is because I want a blow job that I keep mentioning it and there might be truth in that but show me a virile male who isn’t interested and I’ll say he doesn’t want to admit it.
Sometimes You Have To Do The Work
Sometimes the only way to get what you want is to be the one to do the work. I talk to the kids about the value of working hard and working smart. You don’t get much from outworking the next person unless you are smart about it. There is a lot of value in hard work because hard work is often the foundation of luck.
But working hard without a goal, without direction, without focus or point is a good way to exhaust yourself. Don’t mistake activity for achievement.
And when I write down these words in a longer post than I normally write so many things become more clear and the thoughts that are swirling around my head and distracting me have quieted down. Noise and chaos are at a reduced volume so I can focus on doing the things that lead to achievement and are not just activity disguised as busy work.
Which reminds me that bloggers and social media experts are often delusional or at least the claims they sometimes make are. I can’t stomach half the advice I read because it is the echo chamber spitting out the same tired advice and it is not always good or accurate.
I still don’t believe that people don’t read long copy and I still don’t accept that some of you are as successful as you claim to be. But I understand your ability to sell product/services to others is contingent upon your convincing people that you are so  I suppose it is an honest reason to lie.
Paul McCartney Gave Me Wings
I am troubled because I received another email in which I was excoriated for not being as funny or wise as other bloggers. They complained because they don’t think scatological humor is funny and they said I am full of crap.
Well when you have a dysfunctional digestive system as I do you can proudly say that you really aren’t because well your body does its best to expel things as quickly as possible.
That might be considered TMI for some of you but I know at least a few of you are fan of the crap flinging monkeys that inhabit our fair land and you are interested in finding out how what sort of connection there is between Sir Paul and a blogger who has made like a Band on the Run towards the nearest toilet.
Be Kind To Your Behind
But before you get to hear the down and dirty you need to know that I am one of the brand ambassadors for Cottonelle. That means I am getting paid for the crap you are reading about here but the opinions are mine.
So now you and the fine folks at the FTC can wipe the sweat off of your brow or nether regions and rest comfortably knowing what is being talked about whenever you see the hashtag #LetsTalkBums.
Now that we have cleaned and or cleared that up you should expect to see more from me on this topic and you might even learn why you need to have a fire extinguisher next to the toilet.
Sometimes that spicy food is really hot.
Anyhoo, the lady with the cool accent in the video below will give you more insight into what it is all about.
How Not To Age Gracefully
They take their football seriously in Texas.
There were two of them sitting at the bar talking about the draft and what they think their team should do. When I sat down they took a moment to look up at me and went back to staring at the talking heads on the screen above the bar.
I wasn’t there to drink or hang out.  The mission was simple, order a meal for takeout and then go back home where it would be quiet enough to hear my thoughts without effort.
The place was packed so the bartender told me it might be twenty minutes before my meal was ready. He asked if I wanted a drink and I said to bring me whatever was good and on tap.
So I grabbed a seat and stared up at the screen. I wasn’t really paying attention to much of anything, but I figured the commercials would be more interesting than being forced to listen to the guy next to me try to talk the pants off of the woman on his right.
The guys on my left were at an impasse about whether the Cowboys quarterback was worth his contract and asked me to weigh in. I told them it didn’t matter because they weren’t going anywhere this season, too many other issues and an owner who was a pest meant they would be done before it all began.
I heard a voice from behind my left shoulder say I was wrong and that I didn’t know what I was talking about.
“You might be right, maybe I don’t.â€
Twenty years ago I might have chosen to engage, but I had no interest doing so now. I just wanted to grab my food and go.
“You give up easy for someone who sounded so certain he was right.â€
Jeans, boots and a University of Texas t-shirt were his evening attire. Might have been in his early twenties, might have been older. Couldn’t say one way or another. Guess I have reached the point where it is harder for me to distinguish some of these things. Twenty-five or 30, it looks about the same to me.
“Not that big a deal to me. I don’t care if the Cowboys win or lose. Not my team.â€
“You shouldn’t talk shit then. If they aren’t your team, why are you talking.â€
I made a point to take a harder look at him and sat up a bit straighter in my chair. I made eye contact and asked him where his friends were. I did my best to say it with a smile but made sure my eyes were flat.
“Why are you getting in my business. What is your fucking problem!â€
Twenty years ago my forehead would have already been pressed against his and I would have intentionally marching him towards a corner. I liked those corners. If I got jammed I would try to slam him against the wall.
I didn’t have many of those occasions but when I did it usually worked out in my favor. The wall always lived up to its end of the deal and was completely unforgiving. One of the boys once told me he thought it was unfair.
“I don’t want to be the guy in the hospital bed who says he fought fair.â€
It was true then and it is true now, but the difference is that a forty something year old man doesn’t want to fight period.  Toby Keith is right, I can be as good as I once was, but I respect the “once†part of it.
Got too many responsibilities and I have no interest in adding to the mystery aches and pains I already carry around.
The kid was a couple of inches taller than I am and had spent at least a few minutes in the weight room. What I wasn’t sure of whether he had done more with his bad attitude than wave it around at people. Sometimes all it took to adjust one of those was a fist to the mouth, but not always.
Twenty years ago you didn’t have kids growing up with the desire to become an MMA fighter. That doesn’t mean we didn’t get into fights because we did, but there wasn’t the same sort of mystique around it.
Nor did we have the YouTube effect. You didn’t fuck with people so that your friends could film and upload the event.
The challenge for the moment was to try and prevent this from escalating. Instead of responding I just stared at him and took another sip of my beer. Sometimes silence is intimidating.
He spat out a bunch of insults and tried to get me to engage but I remained silent…almost.
The man child who I once was was roused from his slumber. I’d like to say he took control of my mouth but that is not entirely true. I was mostly aware that calling the kid in front of me “a stupid fucking Aggie†would have some impact.
A thousand years ago when I was in college my friends at that school in Austin always used “Aggie†as a term that was less than endearing. I sort of figured that this kid might be offended and he was. Or  maybe he wasn’t. Maybe it was just the excuse he needed.
He tried to use my old trick of trapping a guy against an object but he wasn’t as smart as I was because the bar doesn’t provide the same utility as the wall so my head didn’t smack against anything.
In a movie I would have smashed my beer against his head, watched him slump over and then asked the bartender for another drink. But that didn’t happen here. I am not really sure what happened to my beer, but I am guessing he ended up wearing part of it.
When he wrapped his arms around me I started pounding on whatever part of his body I could reach, grabbed onto one of his ears and yanked hard. I got him with knee to the face before I was pulled off of him.
I like to think that it took four or five men to make that happen, but it probably didn’t.
A couple of days later I am grateful that I didn’t go to jail and that I didn’t break anything. But I hurt in ways that I haven’t for years.
Parts of me make an eggplant look white and I am eating Ibuprofen like candy. It might be a week before I don’t go to sleep in a bath tub filled with ice.
Time Management & Priorities
There was an audio post here, a beautiful one in which I sounded eloquent and insightful. There was an audio post here that would have made your heart soar and your soul tremble with excitement, but alas technical difficulties killed it.
But something happened, I flew too high and like Icarus I fell from the sky.
If you are really interested in hearing my voice or getting a sense of what sort of “podcast” I normally run you can listen to one of the other ones over here.
What You Missed
If you had been able to hear it you would have heard a short discussion about time management and why I have had less time to visit other blogs. It contained a few words about how commenting on other blogs helps to build relationships with other blogs and how it also helps to build our blogs.
You also would have heard why I have chosen to spend more time writing and working on this blog. It is not because I don’t want to build relationships, but at the moment I had to make a choice where to spend my time and I wanted to focus on collecting some of the stories that I have seen and been a part of.
It also contained a few words about some potential renovations here, but alas those words have been lost and now we have just this.
Doh!