Sometimes It pays to wreak havoc

I went golfing today.

...

Well, I went and walked around on some golf holes with other people. We had golf clubs, I'm fairly positive about that. But not clubs where people who know how to golf become members. The golf clubs that one associates with hitting (like other types of clubs: maces, baseball bats, etc.) things. Oh, I know that most people mentally link golf clubs with hitting golf balls. However, it doesn't have that connection for me yet. The other members of my party managed to make that connection on numerous occasions throughout the night, but I just swung my Neanderthal weapon in the air and proclaimed my masculinity by blaming other things, like the grass, for my failures. I think the other men in my tribe were convinced.

And in the end I managed to support my long standing opinion about golf. It is a social event. Hitting balls with those weapons takes skill, but talking and walking around with other people only takes other people who are also willing to walk around and talk. It's not like basketball where you can get noticeably better in the course of a game. When playing a round of golf you improve very slightly because you only hit the ball 3-4 times for each hole (I was playing scramble or else I would have had to hit the ball quite a bit more). But men like me hate just walking around talking. We need a goal, so we talk while heading to the next spot that someone will hit a ball. After complimenting, commiserating, or smack talking, we get back to the real reason that any of us are out on the golf course. Interacting in a social manner that fits our psyche.

Now we have evolved.

Entropy be damned

I have noticed of late a drifting of my energies away from that solid individual I have worked so hard to create. Now, though I do love to toot my own horn, I am not tooting my own horn. Maybe just a little. I am, instead, issuing a call to arms.

Let the trombones' fanfare echo in my heart as I lift myself from despair. Begone atrophy of body, mind, and spirit.

Up. Up, I say. Rise to face the day and do something. Because action is life, and inaction is the opposite of action. So, if inaction is the opposite of action and action is life, what does that make inaction.

I know that sometimes we've gotta wait by and see things move on their own (like children learning to ride a bike or something), but that's a choice. And choose is an action word. And that is how I roll.

It's on the bag

I've picked up a new hobby lately. I enjoy it about as much as I thought I might. Here's the lowdown. I go and visit local potential employers and ask them whether they accept resumes. If they do, I give them one of mine. If they don't, I ask for an application. But the fun doesn't end there. I also ask if the application is available online, but most potential employers tell me that up front.

Case in point: I went out to a job fair the other day and it was nearly a two hour drive. The only employer at the fair talked to me for a moment and said, "You can give us your paper resume, but it would be better to apply online." I have to say, I was under the impression that a job fair is all about meeting people in person, but I'm wrong often enough that I wouldn't be surprised if it happened again.

So, if you have any leads on jobs that require writing, teaching, or theatre (I know, it has an E on the end. Blame my schooling.), please let me know. I'd love to further my list of applications because, as a hobby, I like it.

Don't worry though, I know that when I say you, I'm really talking to me. This is like some otherworldly trick to get me to talk to myself some more. Well, I'm not falling for it this time Gribnebop. You'll have to try harder than that.