2/16/03 5:30 PM PST: Where to start ...

Oh, I know: I'm gonna keep using random animated gifs I find if they amuse me, because, truth be told, I can. My professional and clear cut design can be seen elsewhere on the site, on my own Soapbox, I do what I want, regardless of taste of common sense. Unless it can get me prosecuted, of course. Now, on with today's show ...

A few days ago, I got an email from my best friend in high school, Carnell Greer. I've been sporadically looking for him since I graduated college in '95, using the web as best as I could. No results. Somehow (I won't say), he found me and we sat on the phone (me, on a phone, for almost two hours, so you know it was important as I loath talking on the phone) about everything that we missed, what we're up to now, and so on. It was insanely crazily good to hear from him, and if I drive to Cave Canem (a writing workshop I intend to be accepted to this summer), I'll definitely drop in on his small-town Indiana experience.

That kind of reconnecting with the past got me thinking. I was watching The Bernie Mac Show on tape the other night (I tape almost all the TV I watch for later viewing, partially so I can have a life and partially because I hate commercials) and on it, Bernie was keeping a box full of presents and love letters he'd received throughout his life, going all the way back to his childhood. I stopped the tape and realized I had almost never, ever received a love letter. I'd written my fair share, but I don't remember getting many. Nancy Walker, who I was involved with for a few months in Memphis, I recall, wrote me a love letter once. I got a mix tape from a high school sweetheart (and tons of sex, god I was so young...), but I don't remember getting love letters.

I started to think a bit more on it, and realized my present-getting overall was pretty shabby. Considering that I really only started professionally being a jackass in my junior year of high school, this struck me as odd. I was a nice kid. Sweet. Went to church. Gave tons of presents. Rarely got any back.

This caused more reflection (it's like a hall of freakin' mirrors in here) and I started to think about my new year's resolutions for 2003. "Be less nice to people" was prime, riffing off of the 285th Ferengi Rule of Acquisition (I decided if I was indentified with sci-fi races, I'd be half Klingon and half Ferengi), which clearly states, "No good deed ever goes unpunished."

I'm probably gonna go to Jamaica by myself. I'm sure as heck going to Cave Canem by myself. As the long days stretch before me, I find myself writing and planning and working, alone. "Born alone, die alone," Nas said way back on Illmatic. When my life starts to get bumpy, as it surely has this weekend (we'll get there), I've found an unswerving dedication to whatever I think is good normally gets me out of it.

My Valentine's Day was considerably unromantic. Uneventful even. Sat home, talked, slept. Not a single kiss, not an affectionate glance or brush of the hand. It could have been Arbor Day for all I knew. Despite my hopeful tone late last week, I got a big, steaming cup of "kick in the face."

Kind of ranting now, but it's all connected, so I'm gonna forge ahead.

I am not doing as much writing as I want, despite my preponderance of time. I'm singing more karaoke, hanging out more, doing less, being fairly happy about it. Then I realized, I'm still updating the Soapbox pretty regularly, and that keeps my writing "muscles" limber. When I had to sit down and fix the script for my comic book proposal, it went fast, no breaks, no bumps, very smooth going. I'm gonna try to get a lower-impact one out the door to Marvel (who I suspect have a "shoot on sight" order out on me based on some of the hell I've given them in my Operative Word column) this week as well. Moving forward, incrementally, and being okay with that kind of progress.

Slight rant divergence: I used to be very frustrated by my ability to develop new ideas and new concepts by the score and my seeming inability to complete any of them. Now I'm finding a balance, a little bit of progress on everything, inching towards a greater conclusion. Last week: massive Valentine's prep, also a birthday mix for a dear friend. This week: the Cave Canem app, some unfinished business with USC, and hopefully that Marvel proposal. The week after, perhaps some legal work, perhaps some on the chapbook, and so on. Steady forward motion.

So that's life, moving on, not getting bogged down in my sadness or my disdain for humanity or anything else. And that's enough talking for now.