So, I know it's been a while since I've posted anything. Did anything interesting happen in between blogs?
Oh. I see.
Good thing you don't read this for the news, otherwise you'd be the least informed people ever. Spring is in the air, as are tornadoes, playoff basketball, playoff hockey, NFL lockout negotiations, Mississippi river floods, excess pollen...what was I talking about again? Oh yeah, Manny Pacquiao re-established himself as the cream of the crop and possibly the best boxer ever by holding titles in 8 different weight classes at once.
The greatest living fighter, the Philippines probable next president and people still do this.
Possibly the most impressive thing about Manny is that he's done all of this by the age of 34. The most impressive thing about this isn't the 8 titles he holds, or his position in the Philippine's Parliament, it's the fact that for his fight this past weekend against "Sugar" Shane Moseley, he had a guaranteed $20 million purse.
Pictured: not a $20 million purse.
I think this struck me because first of all, $20 million is a metric shit ton of money. Second of all, he's only about 5 years older than me, and I barely cleared $35k last year. I'm not saying he doesn't deserve it, I'm just wondering how come I don't get punched in the head on a daily basis, but somehow my financial planning is worse than a Filipino who was essentially orphaned at the age of 12. Manny is my favorite boxer, and I think his story is an inspiration and should be used when people try to make excuses as to why they can't do something, but dammit, I want a taste of that sweet filthy lucre.
Mmm, filthy.
This insane rambling brings me to the thesis statement of my...uh...self indulgent diatribe I guess. I have noticed that my entire generation is all facing a 1/3 life crisis at the same time. This notion is inherently ridiculous in that it assumes that everyone in my generation expects to live into their 90's. Yes life spans are getting longer all the time, but even so the average current expectancy is in the 70's. But I digress.
I just found out "maudlin" is named for a dude, Bill Maudlin. Thanks Google!
Is it facing our own mortality that makes us want to relive our pasts differently, or even just relive them at all? I personally wouldn't go back at all, even if I could. All the shitty times and bad shit that happened that I persevered through made me who I am. If I didn't experience that, I might not kick quite so much ass. And the good times are never as good as you remember them. The funniest shit is alway funniest when it's viewed through the sepia filter of time. Do you not see your memories in sepia tone? I pity you. My memories come to me like a Charlie Chaplin movie, a brief amount of action, then a card with the dialog.
That tomato had gams that went from here to Timbuktu! I tell ya she was the bee's knees!
This isn't to say that I think getting older is the cat's meow, not at all. I literally just realized that I turn 30 next year. When the hell did that happen? I have gray hair...IN MY BEARD! What the fuck is that all about? Oh yeah. That's right. But that doesn't mean I have to like it. Look, we all have anxiety about things. I still live in an apartment instead of a house, I spend way more on cable and internet every month than I do to heat or cool my apartment. Basically, I'm still living my life like a just graduated college student. It's terrifying. Nothing specifically, I like my job, my wife is cool, the city we live in is great, we have good friends, we can pay the bills with no issues, and we keep ourselves fed and comfortable.
The problem is that it always seemed like I'd have something figured out by this point in my life, and I think all of us children of the Reagan era felt that way. We were sold a bill of materials from our sitcoms like "Growing Pains" and "Family Ties" and the entire TGIF line up that by this point in our lives our direction would be clear and all we'd be doing is handling wacky adventures week to week to keep ourselves entertained and learn life lessons. In reality, more of us are like "Perfect Strangers". We feel like fish out of water, trying to find someone to love us for who we are while working shitty jobs in broken down retail stores.
Oh, Balky and Larry. What can't we learn from you?
Also, you have to watch this. It's my life, it's my dream. Nothing's gonna stop me now.
While I was searching for that clip and picture, I totally lost my train of thought. But as always, I don't go backwards. Remember?
Sharks have no necks.
So, plowing ahead in this blog is just like how I plow ahead in my life. I put my head down, try to do some cool shit, and live my life happy just taking every day as it comes. I don't really start freaking out unless I try looking at the big picture. I was an economics minor, which means I just took the econ classes that sounded fun, but an important concept I took away from...something was that in the long run we're all dead, so look at the immediate future and try to make the most out of the short run. You know what, you don't really care. The people who read this already know me or stumble upon it completely by happenstance. Either way all I'm doing here is mental masturbation. These are all platitudes that I'm expounding to convince myself that I'm somehow more sure of what I'm doing because I can see the whole game and what everyone else is up to. It's all bullshit, but at least I realize it. I'm comfortable in my emotional bubble. I have no idea where I'm going, but I know where I am and I like it. I honestly have no idea if that makes any sense. Truth be told, it's Friday night, I've had a couple beers and I'm distracted by boxing. I'm gonna leave you with some Music.
Both of these are from AV Club (http://www.avclub.com) and are from their outstanding Undercover series. First up is Low covering the craptacular "Africa" by Toto. If you like shitty lyrics done amazingly well, you'll like this:
I'll leave you with possibly my favorite Undercover ever, Wye Oak covering "Mother" by Mr. Misfit himself, Glen Danzig. If you don't like Danzig, I don't like you:
