As the first page of my blog would indicate, I’ve struggled mightily to produce a steady stream of content in the second half of 2013. But, as a quick look outside my window would indicate, people are doing just fine without me or my blog. So what did I do in the midst of my slump to break through? To create today’s blog?
What used to come out of me with ease on a regular basis now feels like forced, written arrogance. And don’t get me wrong – it’s definitely that. Anyone who creates a website with a self-proclamation as its namesake, then fills it to overflowing with his own opinions, definitely isn’t short on ego.
Bullying is at the center of our news world yet again, as Miami Dolphin’s player Richie Incognito was removed from the team indefinitely this week after revelations that he bullied and publicly shamed fellow teammate, Jonathan Martin.
I’ve been absent from my blog for 16 days because, in my professional life, I have been spending loads of time explaining the ‘value’ of social media to my agency clients in terms of dollars and cents. In ‘big advertising,’ $1 in means you have to get at least $1 out in terms of sales. If not, it failed.
On my drive home from the grocery store, I had a moment when the 16 year old version of me appeared out of nowhere, made a brief cameo and seemed, well, kind of impressed by the newly-minted 29-year-old version of me.
I had just purchased groceries for myself with my own money, leaving the store at 9:30 p.m. without having to explain to my parents where I’d been. Then, I put the bags in my car and drove them back to my apartment. That I own. By myself. And then I blasted rap music throughout my apartment when I got home because that’s what I wanted to do.
“Start saying ‘no.’” It was an easy but necessary response from my friend, Fischer. I’d just made a statement about feeling overwhelmed by my inability to lighten up my social calendar. Of course, there’s little sympathy to go around for someone who thinks he has too many friends and too many positive things taking place in his life. With that said, when it comes at the expense of your own temporary sense of sanity, who really cares about anyone else’s sympathy?
I’ve been on this ‘dating blog’ kick for so long now that, as a reader, you might have forgotten that I once used this website as a vehicle to vent my frustrations in vicious fashion. In my heyday, I took aim at everyone from Miami ‘bros’ (for their faux hawks, fake accents and pointy black shoes) to soccer moms (for allowing our world to have minivans and for purchasing Woman’s Day magazine). I did it with gusto, too.
If you live to be 98 years old, you’ll more than likely have the good fortune of having your life celebrated; not mourned. And thus is the case with my great-grandmother, Dorothy. Born in April 1915, she passed away on August 2.
PROOF THAT GOD HAS A SENSE OF HUMOR: 365 days in your own city. Number of people you meet who you’re really interested in? Zero. 3 days in another city? You’re freaking in love with that one guy you met.
For starters, consider the irony that you’re interacting with single men and women on a daily basis and you’d rather go to CrossFit or watch Sharnado then give them an extra minute of time. Then you meet someone random ass stranger - a friend of a friend or a mystery man – and lightning strikes. You’re like “I wanna know what love is! I want you to show me!”
I haven’t decided yet if you and your sister getting married so close together is genuinely for true love, or just a cruel ploy to humiliate me in front of family members who know I’m older than both of you and still single. “David, when are you going to get married?”
I’m not going to. I’m going to get drunk.