Where This Thing Has Been and Where This Stuff Is Going

I write TomBeingTom.com because I like writing, and I like Tom. It’s important, I think, to know ourselves, to like ourselves. I like me enough, and what goes on in my head enough, to share it with the world. Generally speaking, two or three dozen people read each new blog I post. Sometimes, that number doubles. Sometimes, it halves.

It isn’t “successful” or viral, but it is fun.

When I started it I knew, it would be neither successful nor viral, it would just be fun. A personal blog. Me, writing about stuff. Something for me to write and friends and family to read. I never figured it would be very interesting to people who didn’t know Tom, and I was right.

But it might be time to say goodbye to Tom, just being Tom.

Not because I don’t enjoy it anymore or that people aren’t still reading it. I love it more now than I did on day one, and I have more of a following now than I did then.

But …

The reason I started TomBeingTom.com was to get myself to write, to challenge myself to become a writer. To prove to myself that, if I put my heart into it, I could write consistently. And consistently well. I think I’ve proven that.

So, if TomBeingTom.com has fulfilled its original purpose, then it is time to evolve that purpose, if that purpose can evolve, or to put it on the shelf as a memento to my very personal and internal success.

In other words, it’s time to find my niche.

If TomBeingTom.com had a niche it was this: me, talking about stuff. Any stuff. Politics, religion, ghosts, dogs, love, my day, her day, moving, Stephen King, crime, the future, seasons, beer, yadda yadda yadda. In fact, when I first started it I told people I had the Seinfeld of blogs. In the 90s, Seinfeld was often jokingly characterized as a show “about nothing.” My blog is a blog about nothing. I come up with an idea, I write about that idea for 400-1400 words, I post it on my blog, summarize it on social media for friends and family, and they read it. Sometimes I get comments or even questions, or a kudos, and sometimes I get pretty much nothing at all in response. Great. My formula worked to perfection.

But for a blog to be “successful,” the sphere of reach must necessarily be larger. And from the very beginning I knew that a larger reach comes from a specified niche. To understand that, just think about what folks type into Google machines when they’re looking for a topic. Almost nobody in the world randomly types in “Tom” to see what Tom is being.

Bless you if you do. 😉

So, to drive the world to Tom I need to be more than just Tom. Really. Apparently, that’s a thing.

For the last couple of weeks I’ve been googling “how to be a successful blogger” and all sorts of things (that were not Tom) popped up in response. Some of it I’ll get to in a minute, but the best summary is this:

  • Find your niche
  • Add value

There are a lot more, deeply important, responses, but these two are vital. I have to know what the overall theme of my blog is and, every time I write, I have to add value to that theme and to the lives of the reader.

I tell my boss and co-workers all the time (or, at least, I used to) that the first, most important aspect of running a successful business is to define its core mission and values. Every decision we make from then on can refer back to that core mission and those core values.

That same principle applies to a successful blog or, if you’d like to get all existential and stuff for a minute, to a successful life. Define your mission. Define your values. Work, write, and live according to them. So easy an ape could do it.

But I’m not here to change your way of doing business or your life. At least not yet. I’m here to change the way I write. To find a niche. A mission. To add value.

To add value to my mission and to your life I have to be more than honest, interesting, and original, three things I think I did pretty well on TomBeingTom.com. I have to, in some way, help you, the reader, discover something new. All the other things are important – consistency, outreach, identity, authenticity, transparency, originality, honesty, and great content – but none of it matters to the larger world without value.

All those things are true in business, too, by the way.

So, from now on, Tom will be thinking about something more than Tom. Tom will be thinking about his core mission and trying to find that one thing he’d be passionate enough about (besides Tom) to write about every day.

Tom is going to try to find his niche.

And then, by god, he’ll find a way to add value to it and value to the lives of every person who stumbles across it.

Because, in the end, it’s not about me, being me. It’s about something bigger than that.

P.S. When I say “successful” blogger I don’t mean money or fame or notoriety or even lots and lots of readers. All of those things can be byproducts of success, but they are not the definition of it. The definition of success, to me, for my blog, would be this: defining my core mission, passionately writing about it, and getting great, interactive feedback about it every time. If that happens I will know I have done something I truly love to do, and that it has added value to the life of the reader.

What could be better than that?

P.P.S. Having a niche does not exclude a variety of topics, or content. It doesn’t mean writing the same thing every day and changing the adjectives and nouns. It means that every topic of every blog falls under the scope of the mission, and relates back to it in some way. For example: when running a business you can sell a variety of products (topics), but how you sell them and who you sell them to relates back to your mission (niche).

Does that make sense to you?

P.P.P.S My wife just told me I can’t completely quit BeingTom, or she would cry. I’ll find a way to do both, for love. 😎

The End of a Thing

Technically, I ought to just skip today’s session and buy the fellas a round this weekend, in thanks for their support. Or maybe I could play the birthday card and wiggle out of that obligation or trade free birthday beers for free blogging beers. Technically, I could fudge on my bet. Technically, I could call 30 days good, since this is 31.

But, on the other hand, I could really prove something to myself if I could somehow come up with 400 words in 10 minutes, before I have to get ready for work. If I could do that I could look back on the whole experiment as a success, because it taught me how to free flow, to meet my obligations, and to piece together an article in a hurry, when I have to. I mean, sure, it’ll be short on research and might even come across looking rushed or unplanned, but, sometimes, we have to make compromises. Sometimes we just have to wing it. That’s life.

Speaking of life, you probably know by now that my life ticked another notch forward yesterday, when I observed my 49th birthday. This ol’ planet did another revolution around that there sun, and gravity pulled me a little further down in various parts of my body. I’m not complaining, I like moving forward in life. I feel young, most of the time.

I don’t feel young today. My plan to pace myself on my birthday got blown apart by a noon call from a friend for a lunchtime beer. That led to all sorts of mayhem, as lunchtime beers often do, and the celebration began. I celebrated. Far harder than I expected but, again, it was my birthday. I do have great friends. And a spectacular wife. And one hell of a strong liver.

But that’s it. I know it’s Friday, but there is no way the party will continue. I’m done. Forget the fact that the weekend has not even begun, or that it’s kind of a long weekend with the 4th of July on the other side. Forget all that. I’m taking a break. Even the most powerful liver needs a weekend off.

Soon.

Go ahead and strike that last paragraph from existence. There’s not an ounce of truth in it. The party has just begun. It’s still my birthday until it’s not. I might take a day, but I won’t take a weekend. Come on, man. This is Tom we’re talking about. Who are we kidding?

But however the rest of this weekend goes, I know I’ll spend it with love. I’m lucky enough to have a big group of great friends, and an amazing family. I just, somehow, drew the right card in life, in that respect.

On that note, I made it. Some 500 words in about 10 minutes.

Thank you again for your patience this month. I’ve enjoyed bringing you daily Tom, more than even I thought I would. I’m amazed how many stuck with me; the daily clicks actually went up as the month went by. But that’s enough of that for a bit. Tom Being Tom will return to its regularly irregular schedule, and I’ll go back to bringing you my thoughts, on stuff, about every week or so.

I’m gonna miss this. But this is not the end, only the beginning. We have a lot left to talk about.

Another revolution has just begun.

My 100th Entry

Today has the distinction of being the last day of my 48th year on the planet, and my 100th entry.

I started tombeingtom.com in January 2016 as a spontaneous idea I had been working on for months. In my journal, in November 2015, I gave myself an ultimatum: write daily until January XX – 60 full days – and know for certain at the end of that period whether I am going to be a writer, or I am not.

I had been playing with the idea of writing for years. Even back in high school, 746 years ago, I was encouraged to pursue a career in writing by teachers. I did not. I pursued instead a career in carousing. It was always more fun to have fun. I had jobs. I had my own business. Fairly early on, I owned my own home. I took my work life seriously, but I didn’t take my future seriously much at all.

When I returned to school in my 30s, after a brief 16-year hiatus, I ran into the same level of encouragement. Professors encouraged me, demanded me, to write. My poetry teacher loved me. My English teacher wanted to make me an English teacher. The Critical Thinking professor wanted me to teach other kids in the class how to write critically. Writing was that one god-given thing I had.

I should show you all some of my poetry someday.

About that time in life (sorry for the digression), I started writing. I joined an online “about.com”-style service and became their NFL writer. I produced, for them, some 10 articles, the 3rd of which was selected as the article of the month (among hundreds, or thousands, or some such) and I felt pretty good about myself. Then I stopped. Cold turkey.

I don’t remember why. Did I get bored?

I took some more classes, shifting to online formats entirely. They were easier but lacked the personal touch and motivation that came from direct professorial contact. Eventually, through great effort, I never finished school.

I’ve spent the last dozen years running an appliance store with a great family that has become a family to me, as well. I take my work life seriously. I love it. It pays the bills, helped me get another house (which I subsequently lost in the crash), and allows me my precious carousing.

But there was always this emptiness. This “what am I supposed to do?!”

As an aside, and at the great risk of pushing yet another consecutive article into the “too long to read” category, I should point out that I don’t believe in supposed to’s. I don’t believe in god-givens, either, since I don’t believe in gods. I have a knack for writing probably because I’ve spent my whole life in love with words. There is a yearning to write because I’ve put it off my whole life and feel like it’s something I can do.

Aside over. Sorry if it was meaningless.

So, I told myself, in November 2015, that I was going to shit or get off the pot. This time, for sure. No excuses. No tolerance for failure. By January XX, 2016, I was going to be a writer or hang that yearn up forever.

I failed.

I did not write every day between November XX, 2015 and January XX, 2016, and the deadline came and passed and I was still thinking, “should I be a writer?”

About a week later I asked some friends where I was carousing in a bar if I should start a blog and they all said, resoundingly, “YES.” So I did. Spontaneously, and with a lifetime and several months of buildup, I decided to start tombeingtom.com.

So here it is, on the last day of my 48th year on the planet, my 100th entry.

I’m not close to bored. I’m not close to done. June 2017 has been my favorite month of blogging, doing it every day. If I had the time, I would do it every day until the gods came to pull me from this mortal shell and take me to do what I’m supposed to.

But I won’t. I don’t. I have this store to run. There is more carousing to do. Writing doesn’t make me money, and money’s a big deal. I won’t post daily after the day after tomorrow. But I will keep posting. I will keep writing, all the time.

It’s what I do. I’m a writer.

I have 100 entries to prove it. 😎

The Book I’d Like to Write and Give to Everyone

Now that I’ve gotten this daily writing thing down, I’m thinking of starting a book.

I’m still open to ideas on this book. I think I’d like to make it a little bit quirky and self-indulgent. Maybe it could be something about the journey and oddness of life, from the perspective of somebody who sees things a little bit different. I see things a little bit different.

Politically, I don’t align myself with any certain cause, but instead seek out answers. What works? Last night I was talking to a new person, we’ll call him Rupert, and Rupert was telling me he’s traveled all over the world and social democracy doesn’t work, anywhere. I asked him how so? He told me that it drags the rich down, and the opportunity to become filthy rich just isn’t there in societies like that. He said, “don’t you want the opportunity to be filthy rich if you come up with a great idea?”

I told him no.

I told him most people who come up with great ideas don’t become filthy rich, anyway. There just aren’t that many filthy rich people, but there sure are a lot of filthy poor people. He agreed. I furthermore told him that what I’d rather see is a pulling down of the top and a lifting up of the bottom. He agreed with that as well. I told him that’s how a social democracy works. We cheered.

Religiously, people just don’t get me. I guess because people have spent their whole lives thinking only one way of believing is possible, so I can’t possibly not believe what they believe. I’ve been an atheist for more than 30 years, following a 3-year stint where I tried daily religiosity. Before that, I just believed what I was told, without practicing anything. So I’ve been a sheep, when I was very young, a devout in my teens, and a freethinker my entire adult life. But some folks think all it’ll take to push me back into their worldview is a nudge. I don’t mind; I know nudging is a part of their religion. It is not a part of mine. Mine says live and let live. And pull down the top to raise up the bottom. That’d be a good first commandment.

Honestly, if there were a god I’d want to do the same thing to him. Nobody deserves to have everything. Besides, creating the universe was a long time ago, and creating mankind was a dubious accomplishment at best. We should rethink how we think about that.

So maybe some sort of book with a self-indulgent title like “Freethinkin’ in Modern America” or maybe “Your God, My God, Red Fish, Blue.”

Yeah, I don’t know what that means, either.

Or maybe, to really sell something today you need to do it with numbers. “The Twelve Things Every Freethinker Must Know,” or “How To Piss Off Every Religion and Political Party In Three Quick Steps!”

Nah, it wouldn’t matter. I don’t want to sell it. I’d pass my book out like candy, and hope folks read and enjoy it. I hope it’d make them smile a little bit and think a lot. Or vice versa, I don’t care.

I think it’d be fun.

The only drawback would be, with my attention span, the book would wind up being about 18 different things in 13 different chapters.

Maybe there’s my title.

Carry on with your day from here, folks, and don’t get too pissed off about anything. It’s not worth it. We can’t really change people, but we can change the world.

My book will tell you how. 😉

For a Smile

Well, here we are, boys and girls, in the home stretch. Seven days from today I will have typed my last obligatory words and tombeingtom will return to its regularly scheduled format: whenever I please.

Not that I haven’t enjoyed these moments we’ve had together. I actually enjoy stretching for a topic each day, or simply freewriting a blank page for public consumption. I even enjoyed my shining moment yesterday, which was halfway cheating but still followed the letter of the original directive. Plus, it made some of you smile. If I can get someone to smile, every day, I’ve done my job.

Did you smile just then?

Okay, then, I will continue.

The wife and I have been busy getting the house ready for the return of the mother-in-law. Her room has been something of a storage unit since she’s been away, visiting sisters and such, and now we need to store our stuff someplace else. I want to build a storage unit in the backyard, but haven’t pulled that $549 trigger just yet. Money is so much easier to part with than to earn. Perhaps once I get my massive tax cut from the passage of the new health care bill I’ll use some of that windfall to purchase a shed.

Perhaps monkeys will fly out of my ass, too.

Smiling yet?

Last night, around 9 in the evening, I was ready for bed. I had put in a long day of yard chores and house organizing, and finished it up with beers and BBQ. I let the dogs out for a minute, after checking the perimeter for skunks. They did their business and went back inside. It was 103 degrees and the sun was setting behind the distant mountain peaks. I couldn’t help myself.

Realizing that 103 at 9 pm was rare, I decided to indulge in one last beer and a poignant moment alone on the deck. I’m glad I did. Everything in life makes sense when you can take a moment for yourself and indulge in the pleasures of a cold beverage, a big deck, a summer evening, and a beautiful view.

I don’t know what tomorrow brings. I don’t know what I’ll say in this space. What I do know is that I’m happy to be alive. I’m enjoying every magical moment of this thing called life. I hope you are, too.

And I hope, somehow, I made you smile.

Have a magical day, folks. 😊

The Smithin’ of More Words by the Juggernaut of Jargon

I took a little time yesterday and read a few of my old entries. The last 25 to be exact. I really enjoyed it. I found some typos that I’d missed on my final edit the first time around, and I corrected ‘em. They were minor, and easily missed, and there were only 4 in 25 entries. That’s a pretty good average, I’d say.

I enjoy reading what I write. I don’t know if that’s one of those “wrong things to say” kind of things, but I’ll say it, anyway. If more people wrote the way I do I’d probably read more. That’s definitely one of those “wrong things to say” kind of things, but I said it. It’s okay to disagree with it; I encourage you to write the way you like to read, too.

Since I’ve started this foray into dedicated daily entries, for the entire month of June, I’ve had two other people tell me they’d love to start a blog. I’ve encouraged them. I’d like to help them get started. I hope they have great success, however they define it. I hope they scroll back to their old entries and enjoy what they see. I’d hope that they hope that others write like them so that they can enjoy what others write, too.

Have I belabored that point?

Honestly, it’s Sunday and I’m on limited sleep and I didn’t feel like getting up and putting in my 400 words before church, so I’m just filling in blank spaces on empty paper so I don’t have to buy the beer.

You knew that, didn’t you?

But let me be honest for a moment. Another moment, I mean. Because what I said above was entirely true, in every way. I love reading my old entries. There were some typos. I fixed them. I wholeheartedly encourage people to write and share. The two people who have said this week that they want to start a blog are clever and dear to me. I can’t wait to see their stuff.

But the other honest thing I was going to say is that I look at my writing like poetry a little bit. I may not have something to say all the time but I endeavor to say it in the most ornate way. It’s art to me.

Poetry.org defines poetry as “an art form in which human language is used for its aesthetic qualities in addition to, or instead of, its notional or semantic content.”

See, even if you didn’t understand all the words in that definition it’s a beautiful use of the language.

I like to take language, take simple moments in time, and write something aesthetically and semantically pleasing about it. I do it in sentences and paragraphs instead of stanzas. I make purty.

Or, at least, I try to.

Whether or not I succeed is the judgement of the observer, just like any art.

So, those are the things that went through my head as I read my own stuff. If you’d like to do Tom a favor, and you find yourself with some time, go back and read some of the ones you’ve skipped. Read them for their flavor more than their content. Let me know how I did. Even if you didn’t agree with the opinion, or care for that day’s topic, did I make you smile? Did I create something artful with my use of the language? Did I create something awful instead?

That’s what I look for when I go back. I can be biased, so your opinion means even more to me than mine does. I hope you find that you liked it enough to want to read more. Or I hope you hate it enough to tell me so. Either comment improves Tom, being Tom.

Okay, so I went and filled a blank page with more than 700 words without really meaning to. I apologize for that, and hope to do it again tomorrow. I hope you read it. If you don’t, I will punish you with another 700 the next day. It’s what I do.

I’m the energizer bunny of semantically poetic prose. The irresistible force of lethal literary illumination. The juggernaut of jargon.

I’ll stop there. You deserve better. 😉

Have a great Sunday, friends!

Shorter, Shorter Would Be Better

If brevity is the soul of wit, then I might be a blooming idiot.

I was talking with a pal yesterday, over a beer, and he made an offhand comment about how he rushed through yesterday’s blog and would need to go over it again. He said it was longer than the ones I had been writing in June, and he was right. Shorter would be better, he intimated, with all the demands of modern life that consume him.

Well, yeah. I agree. And I’m sure you do, too.

Sometimes, though, I have more to say than other times. Sometimes I’m talking about something really important like the fate of all mankind or Ludo getting sprayed by a skunk. That last link didn’t work because I haven’t written that one yet. It’s gonna be long. He deserves loquaciousness.

But, here, in June, while I am forcing upon you this daily diet of delectable dialogue, I should have more consideration for you, the reader. So, I renew my vow.

In June, I will keep my entries to 400 words or less, or I will split the entry into multiple days to save brainspace. This has the added benefit of giving me a topic each day. If it’s too long to shorten and too critical to split, it will wait until July. If it can’t wait, then I’ll break the rule.

It’s my blog I can do what I want. If you want to do what you want, start your own blog. Honestly, that would be cool. I’d be your biggest fan.

And speaking of writing your own blog, one final point:

If you ever want to test drive one of these things send me your entry. I’ll post it on my board as a guest blog. You get to express yourself and I get to post something to avoid paying on my bet, without lifting a finger. Folks these days call that a win-win.

And lest you think that’s cheating, I’ll clear that up. My original promise to Kime and Ryan at the bar was that I vowed to post something in my blog daily. I could post a cartoon that intrigues me if I wanted. An excerpt from a poem. A picture of my deck.

You read that right. 😉

So in closing, I want to let you know that I’ve heard what you said and I promise to …

(Sorry, that was 400 words; you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to see the reiterated promise. What will it say? Til then, dear reader, til then! 😂)

Friends Being Friends

I have the best group of friends.

If you’ve been following my stuff for any length of time, you probably already know that. We seem to connect daily. And, as often as possible, we put together events where we can all see each other. A big group of us is going to Vegas, this summer. Maybe 30 of us. Plus family. That’s a lot of people invading Sin City all at once. I hope we’re ready. I hope Las Vegas is.

I’ve mentioned friends today because, honestly, I’ve expressed diffidence to some of them about my unnamed tombeingtom.com June writing project. 30 days straight of me, talking about stuff, is a lot. Especially when you consider this is only day three (or is it four?) and that means there’s, like, 187 days left to go.

I’m prone to hyperbole; I get that.

I’m also prone to use a word like “diffidence” when I could have just as easily said “doubt.” Writers like thesauruses, though. Especially the ones that give different words for things.

But when I asseverated trepidation to my cohorts in that fashion they each reciprocated magnanimously, asserting confidence in my proficiency. In other words, they all believe I won’t ever run out of things to say.

Even those who have placed bets against my success are otherwise encouraging of me. Some of my compatriots have placed a stipulation upon me, so that any day of failure on my part means a day of free beer on theirs. As happy as they are about free beer, to a man they don’t believe that will happen. They’re betting that they’ll lose their bet.

I’m betting they will, too. I don’t have the sticktoitiveness I would have liked to have had in life. I didn’t start taking my writing seriously until about 3 hours ago. Maybe a year. Something like that. But this thing I do, here, it matters a lot to me. Friends get that.

I wanted to say a little bit today about my friends. My emboldening, uproarious, complicated and, at times, outrageous friends. I wanted to give them a shout out, each and every one of them. I’d be a lot more lost without them.

Even when I question my own proficiency, they’ve encouraged me to do this. To persevere. To write. For me.

I won’t let them down.

I can’t. They’re my friends.

Plus, beer can get expensive. I have a car payment to make now. 😉

The Unnamed Tom Being Tom Dot Com June Writing Project

Before I was ever a blogger I read other people’s blogs. Not with any sort of consistency or fervency, but just to see what was out there. The only three I read with any sort of semi-regularity, at that time, were from James Altucher, Steve Pavlina, and Wil Wheaton. Pavlina taught me that a 7 wasn’t good enough. Altucher showed me a wonderfully irreverent way to look at life, in general. Wil Wheaton got me to start a blog.

I admit I hardly ever read any of the three anymore, but I check in on Wil from time to time. It’s not their fault. I’m just a fickle feather floating in a stream of consciousness within the ether, mixing the heck out of metaphors. In other words, I’m notoriously short on attention span. I read a lot of Mark Manson and Ryan Holiday these days. They’re really good. I can’t imagine ever not reading their stuff. But I probably will (won’t?) soon. It’s impossible to know what I’ll find genius-y next. I’m a fickle feather floating … oh wait, I already told you that.

Moving on.

The reason I mention all of my former and current influences is because it’s almost June. Besides being my birthday month (go me!), it’s also the month I promised a couple of friends a couple of weeks ago over a couple of beers that I was going to write in my blog for 30 days straight. That idea occurred to me because I saw Wil Wheaton do it once back in December and said “I’m gonna do that someday.” I also said, “but not right now because that would be a cheap copycat thing to do so I’m gonna wait until no one remembers he did it and then I’m gonna do it organically and no one will know the difference.”

So, that’s what I’m going to do, starting tomorrow. I’m going to covertly rip off a former Federation officer. Does that make me a Ferengi?

Should that be Ferengian?

Whatever.

The other thing I’m going to do to make this work is keep each entry short. Like, under-400-words-each short. That’s not because I’m too lazy to write over 400 words every day (although that might be true, too). It’s because if I drone on and on every day for 1500 words I’m likely to lose a lot of you by the third day instead of the fifth. I’d probably also say “Donald Trump” too many times.

So, that’s the plan. Starting tomorrow I’ll post something daily for 30 straight days.*

I don’t know yet what each and every day will bring but I vow to you all that they will be concise, politely irreverent and, most importantly, Tomly in every way possible. I’d appreciate it if you joined me daily. It’ll be fun. We’ll chat. I’ll give away prizes. I’ll tell you more lies.

So there it is. Starting tomorrow Tom Being Tom will be brought to you daily while we count down the 30 days until my 49th birthday on the 29th.**

Can’t wait to see what I say!

*Technically, since tomorrow immediately follows today, and you’re seeing this today, I’ll have done it 31 days straight in June, if you count May.

**That’s new math.

***There was going to be a 3rd asterisk but I can’t remember what it was now. Squirrel!

Rambling, Man

Football is over.

Well, not forever, but just for the 16-17 season. A few thoughts:

That was such an amazing Super Bowl. I don’t have to tell you that. When the 4th quarter rolled around I turned to a room of 30-40 people and said “anybody here think Tom Brady can’t score three times in the 4th quarter?!” Nobody doubted it. I did. I didn’t think it could really happen. Not in the Super Bowl. Not the way he looked. Impossible. If he isn’t the best QB to ever play the game I don’t know who is. I thought that before this Super Bowl, and I know it now. You do, too.

Kurt Warner was selected to join the luminaries in the Hall of Fame this year. His story is among the best ever told. Rags to riches to unwanted to the Super Bowl with Arizona to the Hall of Fame. I tell my version of his story here, and I defend his induction. I love being a part of CaliSportsNews. I love to write.

In case you missed it, I also wrote about the Rams and Chargers offseasons. I think my next article will take a look at the stadium being built, but I have some other ideas, too. Look for something new around Thursday. I love to write.

I see a lot of mock drafts out there already; it’s too soon, I think. I want to do one but I think it’s just too soon. The draft is April 27th. I’ll do an official one for CaliSports a couple of weeks before that. Really, that’s 6-8 weeks away. Not too far.

Unrelated to football:

Ludo has become an angel. After we brought home the new cage, he just crates right up without question. The other day I took a 10-minute nap at lunchtime (I do that), and when the alarm went off on my phone he jumped up from where he was curled up next to me, ran to his cage, and laid down. No words spoken. He knew my lunch hour was up and I was headed back to work. It’s amazing how a source of such frustration can one day, suddenly, become something so amazing. The light went on. My puppy became a dog.


I don’t like it when people refer to Donald Trump as an orange-something. I never liked the reference to the color of his skin. It’s his character that matters; his deplorable, rotten character. America blew it, but it seems to be coming around to that fact now. The value of a president has nothing to do with the color of his skin.

Maybe I’m splitting hairs here.

I didn’t mean to make a hair joke.


The illegal immigration roundups aren’t getting enough attention. In a week where we saw everyone rise to the defense of Elizabeth Warren when the establishment tried to silence her, a week where the preposterous immigration ban was stifled, and a week where more and more Americans are challenging the veracity of Trump’s belligerent claims, the rounding up of immigrants has almost gone unnoticed. Maybe that’s the Machiavellian plan, to distract us by doing so many things at once that we can’t gain the moral footing on any one of them. Maybe it’s a chaos war.

Oh well. We knew we were in for a long one. There are signs of temperance coming from inside the walls of the White House, however slight. He’s softening on diplomatic rhetoric. It’s a start. If our checks and balances push him into becoming an ordinary right-wing president, instead of a tyrannical authoritarian demagogue, then we will have won. The pendulum swings both ways, in time. That’s okay. The concern comes when the pendulum swings too far one way, gets stuck in an adjoining wall, and lets the waters of democracy seep out.

I probably could have done a better job with that metaphor. 😉

At any rate, cheers to the post-football world. I have a head cold today so I won’t be lifting spirits, but cheers nonetheless. Sorry about the rambling nature of this entry, but I’m in a rambling mood.

I’ve been at this blog thing for a year now and I still can’t get enough.

I love to write.

Go forth and be bold, friends.