CAREERING notameme

The find your careers via thing that’s going around is fun.

3.Computer Trainer
6.Biological Tech
8.Corporate Trainer
9.Cable Installer and Repairer
12.Optical / Ophthalmic Lab Technician
13.Print Journalist
14.Foreign Language Instructor
16.ESL Teacher
17.Public Policy Analyst
18.Musical Instrument Builder and Repairer
19.Bicycle Mechanic
20.Furniture Finisher
21.Picture Framer
25.Technical Writer
26.Automotive Painter
28.Communications Specialist
29.Electrical Engineering Tech
30.Electronics Engineering Tech
32.Security Systems Technician
33.Pet Groomer
35.Dental Lab Tech
38.Electronics Assembler
39.Autobody Repairer
40.Farm Equipment Mechanic

I’ve actually done some of these, so they’re not off too badly. In fact, I think I could do any of them. I should save this list.

Windbag alert and attention conservation notice

I have developed a manifesto-sized idea and am about to blog it out. You have been warned. Long essays making a large cultural point can’t be sold and published conventionally unless the author is a respected and eminent intellectual or a rock ‘n’ roll star. Those who can, do; those who aren’t, blog.

This may fizzle or may be several essays; I’m not sure where I’m going to pinch off the blog yet. Because of TL;DR in this post-literate medium I present some bullet points below for those who aren’t going to plow through the thing.

  • Irony is worse than dead, it’s suicidal.
  • Stop celebrating bad art, bad food, and evil. There’s a place for enjoying things that are so bad they’re good. It isn’t the place called “the entire culture.” Giving up on quality of any kind has more serious consequences than we might think.
  • Phony postmodernism kills. Take the risk of being well-meaning and sincere. A couple of poorly understood Cultural Studies classes does not confer the privilege of detached Godhood.
  • Permanent adolescence is no improvement over permanent childhood. Living our lives fully and meaningfully is a duty to others and not just to ourselves.
  • Subcultures, fandoms, and gaming worlds are eating a generation of privileged and educated people alive when we could and should be doing well and doing good. Come out of the couch fort and live.
  • Cheap fatalism is a crime of privilege. Admitting defeat in advance hurts many, many people less fortunate than we are before it touches us.

I freely admit in advance that I will be didactic, pretentious, and annoyingly prescriptive. It’s likely that I’ll also be irrelevant and that I will make a fool of myself. I have no formal training in philosophy or sociology and will probably reinvent various wheels poorly.

But sometimes an idea just arrives and possesses me. This one has sat on me for years, and is at the root of a troublesome fiction project that won’t budge. Tormenting my small audience with an unsaleable vanity-press think piece is the best I can do with it right now.

Further material in this series will be tagged “ironyproject.”

It’s time to ring some changes

Custom Friends Groups I Inhabit (known): Well at least the ones that stood out as interesting. People who list me but don’t show up as reading me at all either have me in a “never again goddamnit” group or block referers or web bugs, which is fine. I prefer mystery to rejection. 🙂

motivation neutral
white guys (god bless gordonzola for cracking me up each time with this)
The Rest
read two
the kids

It was good to see zebulon_y, and twice! Plus, I ate Mexican pork tonight. Mmmm. Playing phone tag with others, hope this pays off.

I am still sleeping outside at least half the night. What the fuck is this, Mississippi?

The engine of communication with others isn’t working well. There are some obvious current reasons for problems, but in general it needs overhauling. I have parts all over the garage floor and I’m looking at the schematic thinking: what needs changing? This thing doesn’t work for shit.

You know how you get little medical problems that pile up? The ones that aren’t going to kill you, and you can live with them basically, but they’re annoying. An itchy spot, a recurring cough, an oof or a twinge or an oolph my stomach. All of those hit me at once this week. It’s what my Dad called “being pecked to death by ducks.” I blame the heat, double extra neurofeedback, going off two antidepressants at once starting with a 50% reduction, and the Demiurge.

Tomorrow’s plan: as little as possible, unless it’s reading or meeting up with nice people who like me.

#1: The Tu-144

I was an airplane freak as a kid. I read about airplanes, watched TV shows about them, watched them take off and land from the neighboring airport, and haunted the local airplane museum. I didn’t want to expect to become a pilot, but I loved airplanes. When we flew overseas I was ecstatic the whole time.

I spent my second grade year, ages 7-8, in Paris. My dad had a sabbatical year from his university job and was using it to teach and research at the University of Paris.

Near the end of our stay in Paris, the big air show occurred. I desperately wanted to go, so my brother, who is ten years older, took me. I was in heaven the whole day. All the world’s civilian and military planes show off there; it’s the big one. Not only did I see all sorts of supersonic fighter planes and huge weird transports, but the airliners were new and all of the planes did weird maneuvers to show off. The Paris show is not only a big entertainment event, but also the big marketplace for airplanes, so everyone wanted to make a big impression with their product.

At the time, the prestige plane was the Concorde, the Franco-British supersonic airliner. There was nothing like it in the world; even the U.S. had failed to build a supersonic liner. It hadn’t entered commercial service yet but was already famous, and was doing the air show circuit to drum up sales.

Since this was also the middle of the Cold War, the Russians felt the need to one-up the West. They built their own SST: The Tupolev 144. Due partly to spying and partly to their own considerable expertise, they got the Tu-144 up and running pretty quickly. It was not only intended as a propaganda victory, but as a tool; their empire was so huge that being able to send a liner across it at Mach 2 was an attractive idea.

At the ’73 Paris Air show they showed it off. The Concorde flew first, demonstrating its supersonic capability with a nice kaboom. Then the Tupolev took off. As I recall there was a flyby to show off the speed, and then the plane went out to a distance and dove. There was a tiny wisp of smoke, which I pointed out to my brother. “You’re always too dramatic,” he said, “there’s no smoke.” The plane didn’t come out of the dive. Instead, there was a gigantic explosion, impressive even at several miles distance. A fiery cloud rose up and then there was just this drifting huge black ball of smoke as the blast noise hit us.

The plane had augered down into a small French town, killing everyone on board and some people on the ground and taking out 15 houses. We all quietly went home.

I never lost my enthusiasm for airplanes, nor have I had any fear of flying since. But I don’t go to air shows. That’s where they take airplanes to their limits and beyond, whether out of sheer macho, the need to sell, or national pride. At 8 years old I had just learned an important lesson about hubris.

10 (slight return)

I posted this more than a year ago and haven’t written most of them up. The Perry one I have, so a post is linked below. I shall proceed to document them, or at least the ones I can turn into an interesting story.

Ten Things I Have Done That You Probably Haven’t

  1. Seen a supersonic airliner crash
  2. Been sued by my psychotherapy clinic
  3. Got a get-well card from the French absurdist playwright Eugene Ionesco
  4. Been a passenger in a WWII-era Grumman Goose flying boat and landed on water
  5. Crashed America Online. All of it.
  6. Been the subject of a months-long campaign of hate by Jane’s Addiction singer Perry Farrell ( the post )
  7. Lived ten years in Los Angeles without a car
  8. Had a warrant out for my arrest for jaywalking
  9. Fought rats in the dark basement of a Venetian palazzo
  10. Seen Charlie Chaplin in person