There's a Story if You're Willing to Listen
Every dent, every ding tells a story. I grew up watching the Boston Red Sox on television, and by the time I was 14 years old, I finally had the opportunity to see them play in Fenway Park for the first time. My friend's dad ran a grocery chain and had tickets from the Coke distributor - my very first game was witnessed two rows back from the visitor's dugout on the third base line. Those seats are now worth some $85+ dollars. Back in 1984, not so much.
It was the first time I had seen Fenway and the wall up close. The "Green Monster" has dents in it covering decades of baseball games. With each dent, a story is born. The story of each is lost to time, but each one has a story. There's the September 2, 2001 game at which I sat in the right field bleachers where at the bottom of the 9th inning and 2 out, a perfect game was broken up with a line drive off the wall. To the best of my knowledge, no one ever marked the dent made by Carl Everett's line drive.
There is no telling what each dent means, but those stories are there.
The same is true in any work of human art, any random encounter one may have. A visit to the Museum reveals a world of story. Certainly, there are visitors who go to see Rodin's statues and gaze upon the inherent beauty of the man's work. I, however, wonder what must've been going through the artists' mind and how he controlled his hand in the creation of his work. To know another human's hands has touched upon a piece of stone, of clay, and scultped a work of art. What was the context, what was the motivation that fed through that artist's hands to create such a work?
A glance upon the bumper of any random car. A scrape, a dent, a ding. The car next to you held together with duct tape. There's a story if you're willing to accept it. The man at the convenience store who can't find the addtional change or the sight of the faded tattoo on his arm. There is a story to each of those things.
The scar from a channel of stitches on the body of a person who has undergone surgery. Certainly, there's a story to be told if you're willing to hear it.
Listening is one of the hardest tasks we as humans as asked to do, those who can internalize and appreciate the story behind the marks upon others, understand what it may be like being in the shoes of another.
The world is full of similar examples. Take a look at the car next to you tomorrow morning. Who is driving it? Where are they going? What is the story behind the vanity license plate?
Take a few minutes to observe that which comes from without. There may be great treasure awaiting you.
The Type Indicator: INTROVERT
A quiet time in which I can engage in whatever suits my fancy. I think it must have something to do with my personality type - INTJ . Now, as I grow older, I fit less the mold of the typical INTJ - the perfectionist more specifically - and I've become less introverted, but I do share many of the characteristics: I like building systems, I will tell you how I can help you, and frankly my interest lies in "DOES IT WORK." I like to know HOW something works. A big part of that introversion is taking this alone time to recharge my batteries. I've spent some time trying to reconcile my sometimes insatiable desire to write with my introversion, but I think I've come to some conclusions about that as well. I tend to share a lot in my writing, perhaps too much - I've been told "I can't believe you wrote that," but it's not about the sharing from which I gain energy. It's about the act of writing - sometimes I just need to write and I just write what comes to mind. Sometimes that results in a little TMI . The nice part is that if you're really uncomfortable, you can navigate away. I can completely understand that some of what you read here isn't exactly cocktail party stuff - but trust me, I'm much more fun in person. So, it seems writing satisfies my need to create something and it may satisfy some aspect of my extroversion - an aspect of my personality that does seem to grow as I get older, but will probably never fully express itself. I've been going to the gym now for some 9-10 months and I still know no one. I do what I'm there to do, listen to music or watch the television and that's about it. Some folks I know have a little group of people around them no matter what and no matter the situation. I'm not that guy. I sometimes feel like I could work in a place for 20 years and a month or so after I left, someone would hear my name and say, "that sounds familiar..." I admire people who gain energy from others. Not the vapid types who just want to please others, but those who actually gain energy from having others around, those who find it easy to make friends and who enjoy others. Intelligent people who find others interesting and who care about them. It's kind of funny really, I have made a career working with people and yet I find people to be the most difficult of topics on which to gain any sort of expertise. People are messy and without apparent rules, without any apparent system. I make decisions easily about what should happen, but get hopelessly confused when it comes to stepping on people's toes. Perhaps I'll learn more about myself as I get older - stereotypical unfinished project am I. By the time I figure out this most complex tangle of emotions, thoughts, skills, ambitions it will be time that the great beyond calls my name. In the meantime, I guess I'll figure everything else out and in so doing perhaps I'll get better insight as to what makes me tick. The Return of Mo
Since my incident with the back window a week after having purchased it, I've had no real problems with the car. It starts every morning, rides nicely, performs to task. I have come to really like driving this car. The family is generally healthy, the dog is happy, the job is good. Generally no complaints. Furthermore, when one proclaims that winter storm damage has been kept to a minimum, one must really make sure of this. Imagine my surprise, then, when uncovering my grill for the first time since after the December ice storm that cost my yard it's flora, I found the meat station had indeed suffered severely. Shock, horror, denial, anger, acceptance. It does still work, but my glorious stainless steel grill had been targeted my Mother-freaking Nature. What did this beautiful appliance ever done to deserve such a fate? Thankfully, the steak grilled up nicely in spite of the slightly more ventilated structure and as such will not be immediately replaced. Then today. It started as so many other days do, with the obligatory awakening. After that horror had been overcome, the daily dressing, tie selection (which I still struggle with, despite several months now of having expanded my shirt selection from solid blues and whites to a more motley collection of stripes and checks) and ready. It was only later revealed to me that I had in fact chosen brown socks to wear with my black shoes, but that had not yet occurred to me. I was even off early, knowing Monday morning commutes are generally the worst of the week. Coffee in hand, I began my journey to my workplace. I drive a total of 3 interstate highways to get to work, the first one of which is about 7 miles from my house. 2 miles on the highway and traffic crawls to a standstill - not going anywhere. Ugh. So I jump on some side roads to get to the second of my interstate highways. Back on track, I reach the third of my interstates - the Massachusetts Turnpike. Ah, yes. The pike. I check mobile Facebook to see my friend in town who takes the commuter rail into Boston was complaining about the express train being somewhat less than express. I comment that he is welcome to commute with me anytime. I should have known Monday would be the capper on the trifecta. So there it is. Mo had been absent for too long. He arrived today with all the glory that is Mo, the man with a lot of luck - usually bad. Mo is that guy who is eerily inept, yet just competent enough to keep himself out of hospital emergency rooms. Mo is the guy who can make a hazard out of the most banal situation. Mo is the guy whose roof remains in tact despite being menaced by storm damaged trees, only to find his grill smashed 4 months later. Mo is that guy whose just stopped in traffic and winds up getting hassled by his insurance company. In some ways, I'm actually happy Mo has made a return - perhaps it means my muse is back in action. As a side note, all involved are apparently fine - mine was the only one of the three cars that was drivable. AND I also made the morning traffic report as these things tend to tie traffic up something awful. So, at the end of the day, things happened the way they always seem to work out for Mo. In a funny way, it's good to be back. The Big Game
Bring It On
Everybody IS Free to Wear Sunscreen
Well, that's not all together true. Light at the End of the Tunnel
Looking for a Connection
BUT, we knew it was temporary. Crazy Canton Cuts - CHRIS HANBURGER for Pro Football HOF
Crazy Canton Cuts pays tribute to Professional Football Legends deserving of the Hall of Fame, who have been overlooked. You also may be aware the first entry of the series was CHRIS HANBURGER. It is their personal mission to get Hanburger into Canton, and this has been spotlighted in the Washington Times. They have decided to ratchet up their efforts. Crazy Canton Cuts is PLEADING for YOU to sign the petition: http://www.ipetitions.com/petition/ChrisHanburgerHOF Your e-mail will NOT be displayed, and you can check off a box to not be bothered further. PLEASE SPREAD THE WORD TO YOUR FRIENDS ALSO AND GET THEM TO SIGN AS WELL!
Note of thanks for Lester's Legends for the idea of posting a blog entry for the cause One Artist Remix Version: Jimmy Buffett
Using only song names from ONE ARTIST, cleverly answer these questions. Pick Your Artist: Jimmy Buffett (I almost feel constrained by only answering one to each question). Never one to schill my own stuff, I did a Jimmy Buffett Top 10 Album list in late 2007 and I dare say, it still holds. Please swing by that article and take a look. Ok, I do shamelessly huckster my own stuff, but...well, no but. 44 Things; The Expanded, Remix Version
Anyway, here it is: 44 Things, The Extended Remix Version It's Been A Long Time Since I Sat and Wrote...
A Grande Latte in a Venti Cup
Preparing Dad's Taxes
So, I'm now working on taxes. Two stacks of papers: our tax paperwork - W2's, 1099's, all that - and his paperwork. It literally took no time at all to set up, prepare, check and file my taxes. 45 minutes tops. And now there's that stack of his paperwork. Looking at me. The Trees Came A Tumblin' Down
This weekend was a pretty sad one for old Gone Fishin'
I will be back...a little rejuvenated. In the mean time, I present for your enjoyment, my Friday Roundtable at YouGabSports. Peace! Your Reputation
Wal-Mart Really Is Planning to Take Over the World.
For my facebook readers, the entire witty commentary can be found at morrisseyweb.com Read all of Wal-Mart Really Is Planning to Take Over the World. Super Bowl XLIII - Pittsburgh vs. Arizona Thoughts and Observations
Read all of Super Bowl XLIII - Pittsburgh vs. Arizona Thoughts and Observations Thirty Eight
For readers of my Facebook notes, please check out the whole entry at Morrisseyweb. In 1876, Colorado became the 38th state. 1876 also saw one of the country’s most disputed Presidential elections – up to perhaps the 2000 election – when Samuel Tilden defeated Rutherford B Hayes in the popular vote by some 2 Million votes and 3-percentage points, yet somehow Mr. Hayes became president-elect. Here are some other thoughts about "38" |
