The Journal of Joe The Peacock. Yay.

7.28.2010:

No, I'm Not Coming Out of the Closet.

4:04 PM

Yesterday, I went full-on whiny bitch mode about not getting my laptop when I wanted it. I recognize I was being a whiny bitch. I was just venting.

Jeremy added to the post that I was just being whiny because I was coming out of the closet to my parents, and am feeling emotional. This made it out to the RSS feeds.

For clarity: no, I'm not coming out of the closet to my parents. If I were, I'd actually be in a great mood, because it'd piss them off, and ever since I was 10 years old, pissing off my parents has been my #1 goal in life. And it'd be all like "Mission Accomplished" and shit. And second, Jeremy's had his admin privleges revoked on the blog, so now I can call him a motherfucker anytime I want and not have to worry about his getting butthurt to the point of editing my blog entries.

Also, I think Jeremy's very handsome and I also suck cocks and no, Jeremy did not edit this portion I wrote it myself.

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7.27.2010:

"It Could Be Worse..."

2:26 PM

No other four-word phrase produces the amount of ire in me that "It could be worse..." does.

Case in point: I am expecting a box containing a new Macbook Pro today. I need this Macbook Pro today because I will be away from home the next few days, and the shipment requires a signature. Apparently, FedEx are a bunch of clowns who can't actually deliver items on the day that they say they will, and the shipment has been delayed for delivery until tomorrow.

This comes on the heels of several different people in several different positions of authority giving me hearty boot up the ass for several different things -- all of which are not directly my fault and should have been handled with a lot more tact, except that the persons involved are feeling pain so they're passing it down to me.

So I share my lament with my friend Jeremy, who then lets me know that, while my very exciting (and necessary) Macbook Pro delivery being delayed is certainly an "assache", especially combined with the rest of today's bullshit, "it could be worse."

OF COURSE IT COULD BE WORSE. It could have fallen out of the airplane and hit a little boy, killing the kid and voiding my warranty on the new computer. It could have been misdelivered to a house where a terrorist cell member covertly lives, where the computer would then be used to mastermind the next 9-11. Lots and lots of things could have happened that could be worse.

This does not make me feel better. It makes me feel like taking out all of my frustrations on your face. The point is not that this situation is as bad as it could possibly get. The point is that I'm already frustrated, and this just causes more frustration. Knowing how much worse it could be does not alleviate the pain and frustration I'm feeling right now. Actually getting the fucking thing would do that.

So my retort to all of you ridiculous not-experiencing-pain-right-now optimists when you tell me it could be worse? Yes, but it could be better - I could have my computer right now, AND I could be punching you. Best possible situation in my book.

*** Edit ***

Just now, I let Jeremy know I wrote this, and told him "You know I don't mean this personally." He replied "Oh I don't give a shit, it was just something trying to get you to realize you're just having a bad day and the world isn't out to get you."

I'd prefer the world was out to get me. Then, I could fight back and be in the right. As it stands, anyone I kill right now would just be an innocent person in an unfortunate situation. I don't feel better, I feel even worse. So yeah, yet another point against Jeremy.

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7.24.2010:

"Should I Quit My Day Job?"

10:43 PM

Great timing on this one. Lifehacker links to a post on Get Rich Slowly that posits the question of whether or not you should quit your day job to pursue a passion.

Well, I've just finished a huge how-to on writing, publishing and selling your book. One of my huge points: don't quit your day job. But what if you want to? What if you ARE so gung-ho that you're ready to take on the world with your talents? Well, here's what Get Rich Slowly suggests you ask yourself first:

Chasing a dream isn't for everyone. There are plenty of people who prefer the stability and security of a job. Many creative, interesting, passionate people like the advantages of a steady paycheck, good benefits, and the ability to leave work behind at the end of the day.
Before you consider quitting your day job to follow your passions, ask yourself:
How comfortable am I taking a risk with my livelihood?

Am I willing to maintain a business?

How will I handle the business management aspects of my new career?

Do I want to do this all day, every workday, or will that strip the joy from it?

Will my family and friends support this move?

Those are all well and good. And general. And pretty much useless. This flowery hand-holdy "God, we need to fill space and sell ads" bullshit blogging crap gets on my nerves. Those are NOT the questions you ask. They're the beautifully generic overarching theme of what you should actually ask yourself, which is this:

How the hell will I feed myself, keep the lights on, keep the roof over my (or our) head, and still be a writer (or whatever other creative field you want to pursue)?

Here's the answer: You will work almost twice as hard as you did at your day job, over and above the actual work of whatever it is you want to leave that job to do.

You want to be a writer? You will put in your hours writing, and then twice the number of hours of your old job promoting that writing, selling that writing, managing the checks that (might) come from that writing. This is, of course, after you've established some sort of revenue source from that writing.

If you're single:

The essentials are food, water, shelter, air and something soft to sleep on. Additional necessities will include electricity, internet and garbage service. Air is free, and hopefully you already have a bed, so those two are handled. Everything else has a bill attached. Add those up. This is a figure we will call X.

Mind you, "food" does not mean eating out. Period. No eating out. This is not the place to figure out eating out expenses. This is the place to figure out the base caloric intake your body needs to survive. The same goes with water: fuck Pelligrino. You're drinking out of the tap.

As far as shelter goes, you have to figure out if you're okay with downsizing, or if you're going to attempt to keep the mortgage / rent paid on where you're at now. Don't be afraid to take on a roommate, or move to a cheaper place.

Everything else -- EVERYTHING -- is expendable. Yes, including your car (especially if you have a bike). From this point forward, you've got to make enough money to be able to afford everything else. This means cable, satellite, strip clubs - EVERYTHING.

If you're married / living with someone:

Everything I just said above, plus "Is he/she okay with that?" If they make enough money to support you both, are you ready to accept the fact that taking a year or two years to write your book had better be met with some measure of success? Because I don't give a shit how much they love you and care about you and tickle your ass with the feather of support, two years of paying for your food, shelter, water, and everything else? That's going to require that at some point you come back strong and make up for your lack of keeping up with your end of the bargain. Period. Because if you don't, there WILL be resentment.

No no, you're right, I DON'T know him or her. I don't know how much they love you, and support you, and wants you to be happy... But I do know people. And people don't like being fucked. And you taking two years and doing something that does not pay off end in the end? That's fucking them.

Note that paying off doesn't necessarily mean a huge financial windfall. Maybe your book / art project / whatever leads to new contacts and opportunities. Maybe you write something that leads you to discover that you're amazing at research, and you end up taking that on as a career. Who knows. Just make sure it pays off.

Got all that covered? Know where the next three months worth of bills are coming from already? You're ready to quit your job. Not because you've secured the money, but because doing enough of the work to know the answers to everything above puts you in a certain mindset to either accept how hard it's going to be or quit.

Go for it.

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7.22.2010:

Why "The Big Bang Theory" Sucks

7:07 PM

I bag on "The Big Bang Theory" quite a lot on this blog. Well, today, a reader Facebook-messaged me to let me know she was leaving me:

I've been asked quite often why I hate The Big Bang Theory. Here is a simple photo essay explaining it:

	is to
as
	is to

Go on... Tell me I'm wrong.

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7.21.2010:

The Flame Which Fuels, Consumes

11:24 PM

Colonel Tanner: All that hate's gonna burn you up, kid.
Robert: It keeps me warm.
-- Red Dawn, 1984

I loved this quote. I loved it from the second I heard it, when I was 7 years old and we saw Red Dawn in the theater. I loved it as a teenager, young adult, and adult. And only recently -- two days ago, in fact -- did the full gravity of that statement finally hit me.

I posted about my lack of discipline the other day. Shortly after I posted it, I was talking to a friend about the situation, and it finally dawned on me... My fire's gone out. And it's not a bad thing.

For many, many years, I had this deep desire to prove everyone wrong. 33 years, in fact. Everyone in my life who ever told me I couldn't do anything I wanted to do. That I had no talent. That I had no chance in life. That I should just quit dreaming and go get a job at the Home Depot. That I couldn't draw - not technically, but physically was not allowed to.

Family members. "Friends." People that were supposed to help me and support me... I spent a lot of years living in fear -- seriously, fear -- of my own creativity and need to do things like write and draw, because I knew I'd hear shit about it and get relentlessly mocked and derided.

I hated them. Hated. It's a strong word, and I just used it. I hated my birth father for abandoning me. I hated my older brother for tormenting me. I hated every kid in every school I went to who refused to just let me be a normal kid. I hated my family for having a particular viewpoint of me, which was ultimately wrong -- because they always assumed, since I was related to them, that they knew me by default. I hated and hated and hated.

And I don't hate anymore.

I mean, yeah, I still hate hipsters and wannabes and fashion geeks Glenn Beck and the usual cast of people who pull our collective conscious down into the gutter and make us lesser as a society. But that's just hate for the sake of calling people out on their bullshit. I don't want to actually punch and hurt and maim these people, I just want them to stop with their nonsense.

...Okay, maybe I do want to punch Glenn Beck. And maim and hurt him. But the others... You get what I'm talking about.

After my breakdown last winter, I had to face a lot of things that were very, very difficult - not just things in my immediate periphery, like what was going on with my book or my life, but deep-seated, root issues that caused this panic and fear that I felt I was always forced to overcome every time I sat down to do ANYTHING. Draw. Design. Write. The ghosts of a hundred horrible people whispered in my ear each and every time, and I had to force my way past them and put pen to paper and push as hard as I could to get it to move.

I felt it in everything I ever did. I had to force myself to put these mental walls up every time I sought out to do anything I wanted to do that even remotely involved creativity. After all, I was supposed to be working at the Home Depot all this time - which is not a bad career, I love my local Home Depot guys. Those guys know what the hell they're talking about, and have helped me fix more than one thing around my home. But that's not me, and the context in which I was told that was not "go help people fix their homes," it was "you will never - EVER - make it as a web developer, designer, writer, or artist. You need to find a comfortable job with a basic skillset and do that."

Teachers. "Friends." Family, you guys - the one group you're supposed to be able to rely on no matter what... They were awful. My birth father would get drunk when I was a kid and smash up everything. He'd break my pencils just to be an asshole. My older brother would melt my crayons with a torch. It was ridiculous.

And they can't get at me anymore. No one can. I realized the night I wrote the discipline post that my fire's extinguished... And I'm the one who put it out, and it's a great, great thing. I'm no longer motivated by "Fuck YOU, I sure as hell can write, or draw, or bench press a ton of plates, or play pro football, or whatever the hell I want! You can't stop me!" It's now "Man, this would be so cool to do. I think I'll go do it."

I'm not afraid of myself anymore. I'm not afraid of BEING myself. And that's part of why I finally wrote the "How to write, publish and sell your book" thing. I'm okay admitting to myself now that I AM a writer. I have succeeded. I get to create things for a living, and I don't have to hide from anyone or justify it to anyone or explain why I did it. I do okay at this here writing thing. And I can help people do okay at it as well, if I can just get over the shyness of saying out loud the various things I do and do well.

I'm not scared anymore. There's no more hate in me. I'm not letting anyone's "No you can't" make me prove I can. I'm just happy doing what I like doing... For the first time in my life. That flame which I thought was fueling me was consuming me.

You can't let anyone - ANYONE - own that much of you. Ever. Hate is a leash. You buck and you growl and you snarl, and still they're the ones keeping you tethered to them. You can hate them, or you can get the ultimate revenge... You can let them go forever and make them watch as you forget they even exist.

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