Wednesday, June 5, 2013

So Long, Farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, Goodbye....

I'm a loyalist. Sometimes when there is something I really love I will keep it for a long time, past its evolution date. I've never not been in possession of something Nintendo related, and though they are by far not the most famous of brands, I've always had a Nokia cellphone (I also love samsung, they take a licking and keep on ticking) So it's hard for me to abandon certain things.

Sometimes I will give a good commitment to something as a trial run, but at a certain point, I'll realize that it wasn't really for me. Which is where I find myself now with blogger. I'd been campaigning to get a little traffic and readership over here at blogger, to poor results.  Not that I'm writing a blog solely so that people see it, I know the odds are that my blog won't become one of the well known ones like Perez Hilton or whatever, but writing this blog is just one cobblestone on the road I'm paving for myself to become an author so I have to put my all into it.

And if I'm putting my all into it, I need for to give me its maximum yield, and I'm just not getting that with blogger. The site makes it so difficult to just browse blogs, especially if you have a google+ profile rather than a blogger profile, because the only way to browse other blogs is to find them via your or someone's interest and preferences section.  There's no search, no home page, no feed, nothing. So not only do I have to slog through all of the abandoned and ill written and uninteresting blogs (via the author's profile btw, because goodness forbid I get to see the blog in a category or preview page) just to find something that I might want to give some time and readership to; but, my own blog is buried beneath this pile as well.

I'm not saying that I think my blog warrants some kind of special attention over any others, I'm sure it has proven to be quite uninteresting to some of the traffic my campaigns have brought in; but it at least deserves a chance to be seen on its own host site. Come On! Not only that, but it's so proprietary. If you don't have a gmail account, you can't even get into the site. It was a good thing I was planning on creating a blog anyway and happened to have gmail accounts, because I would never have been able to come to the site without already knowing a blog url to follow.

So I'm leaving you blogger. I wanted to stick around and give it a few months to see if things picked up. One day I was telling my friend about my temptation to play with WordPress because it looked like it was socially more interactive than blogger. She has a blog as well and she told me that you have to pay to do WordPress. Me being el cheapo, I immediately said screw that and started looking up more ways to promote my blog. Then, not but a few hours later, she texts me saying she made a WordPress blog....What?! Apparently there is a free option that no one really cares about because it is almost completely uncustomizable. You can't even change the font without paying for a 20 dollar upgrade. It's crazy.

She confirmed my hypothesis that indeed there was more socialization and random foot traffic over there, and after posting her first post she'd received a couple of followers and some likes. It took me days just to get a couple of page views on blogger and I only ever received one random comment: Shout out to Kijana Ania if she still visits this page; and one random follower: Yes it is Jon Hartley! My other two "followers" were both the same friend via her personal blog profile and her writer's profile.

So she suggested I just do both if I didn't want to abandon all of the work I'd put into blogger, sort of as an experiment....So of course I just went full tilt and transferred the entire blog over to WordPress, naturally, and within a day or two I'd gotten twice as many followers and a lot of likes, for an unknown blog written by me. I linked back to Buffering on the off chance anyone wanted to view it in its original home and see what I'd deleted for context purposes, like an origin story of sorts. And that only increased the page views to a little more than what they had been previously.

I changed the title of the blog because, it's something new and ....Buffering was a labor of love that was its own entity for me. So blogger I leave you with this Dear John letter, and let you know that I have really enjoyed the outlet you have given me, and the customization you supply so freely, WordPress will never treat me as lovely or as gently as you did, but I need perspective and I can't get that here. I felt it would be wrong to leave without saying a word or just write two sentences with a link to the new blog. That's like kicking in your girlfriend's door, telling her you want to see other people, then inviting the other person into her house to make a sandwich. Shit's rude dude.

So....I'm just going to get some water, which is a little less intrusive. Come read my blog over at WordPress, called Word Major Woes.  It will be updated weekly like this blog, and if you're feeling exceptionally lonesome for my company, you can hop on over to my meager twitter page @_JR_Henry or follow me via my google+ account located in the side bar over yonder>>>

I'm pretty sure I just told you it's you not me, but we can still be friends....

Your Jerky Ex,

Monday, May 27, 2013

Will My Death Be As Tragic If It's by Chocolate?

I've been writing. Hold your applause to the end please. I've mentioned in a post not too long ago that I wanted to get back into the habit and I guess I finally found the right combination of circumstances, drive, and inspiration to do it. So now as a born again writer, I retain the right to call every and anything I have written so far complete and total crap.

It's practically divinely ordained that I hate my writing, after all don't all great artists think their work is total utter trash? It's always when you start buying into the hype of your own genius that you begin to make true garbage. I'm sure that's a paraphrase of a quote I've heard somewhere.  There isn't a particular reason that I can point to that makes me hate my writing, other than it's mine and I know I am full of ***t. Or that is my estimation of the situation in any case.

I'm always hampered by expectations of the finished product.  Most of the time its my own and, in the cases of academic papers, my teachers'.  There are a number of proverbs I could rattle off about appreciating the journey and not the destination, but they are cliched and worthless, because they can't fix my brain. My brain says that if it's crap now, it's going to be crap at the end. Maybe it's because my mind is so hemmed in as a reader that the part of my brain that is hyper critical towards bad finished products sees my fledgling steps and with razor sharp claws descends upon my works in progress and rips them to shreds and swallows the pieces.

Self editing is that finely sharpened edge of the sword. You have to balance it perfectly or else skewer yourself with it.  I lead towards the anal side of self editing when it comes to most things. I say lean towards because there comes a point where I'm just like screw it and eat a waffle instead of trying to make something absolutely perfect. Oh, but I endeavor at first. I endeavor indeed. It makes me wonder about those artists who have died before their time.  Some, most, addicted to some kind of substance; always trying to numb life.  They're usually the victims of their own hubris.  Caught inextricably between their insignificant self view and the cult of celebrity doggedly attached to them by the generous masses.

Take Natalie Portman's character in Black Swan for instance. Insanity, mutilation, and *SPOILER ALERT* death all for her art.  To be a genius it seems feels like you have to either be a complete natural at it, or you have to throw so much of yourself into something that you lose your way back and the very fiber of your existence pulses and fades with your art...

I feel like I have digressed here a bit. The point I am attempting to make isn't that I think that I am a genius, but that I want to make/create something worthy of note. My goal isn't to go out and inspire and it isn't even to help anyone, as noble a pursuit as that may be for doing anything. I simply want to read my work and feel proud of it and have the ceaseless chatter of the inner critic silenced by my own personal triumph.

Insert Inspirational Music Here,

Friday, May 24, 2013

Dewey is a Pusher Man

[B9BUES7BJHEG] I've been on the outs with my tech lately.  It isn't entirely based on its recent uncooperativeness  in the form of frequent connectivity outages; and a very ill timed attempt by my home air conditioning system to take up the clarion call of the Statue of Liberty by becoming a refuge for the weak, poor, huddled masses of ants that are immigrating full scale into both units and shutting them down at the beginning of summer.

No, this malaise towards my tech has been building for some time and I must say it is about time. I'm entirely too wrapped up in the goings on of the cyberverse and when not doing the spiderman across a multitude of servers, website, and the like, I'm simply on the comp/tablet/phone playing a game or conversing with friends.

So I decided to use this uncharacteristic lull in my tech activities to do engage in some recreational reading. I know, I went from modern nerd to classic nerd in one fell swoop, but that's my gift. Now, I have a really bad habit when it comes to books. I love, LOVE, hardcover books. It's a sensory thing I guess, the look, feel, smell,...tasteBut of course, as most people know, hardcovers are on the expensive side. Especially when we're talking about your top selling authors i.e. your Rowling, Martin, and King, etc.

Enter the thrift store. Thrift stores and flea markets, if you don't know, are great ways to find hardcover books by quality authors without breaking the bank. I own a couple of Harry Potters, some Anne Rice, and a number of classics like Roots and a few Hemingway novels to name a few, that I've found in the unorganized tangle of thrift store bookshelves.

I said I have a bad habit though, and that bad habit is purchasing these books and then not reading them. Or...more specifically, purchasing these books then going to the library or online and finding other books to read. In short I have committed the nerd faux pas of owning materials that I have never read. You may pause in your reading now to gasp in horror.

It is atrocious really, so many books to read like, Volume I of the 007 series by Ian Fleming, some James Ellroy novels (the names escape me for the moment) and quintuples more! I'm out dorking myself at an alarming rate and becoming sore pressed for storage space. So, as much as it pained me, I had to put a stop the purchasing of books and my library trips and dive head first into my own storehouse of books I haven't read yet.

Did I mention that this list of unread books includes a moderately sized amount via my Kindle content? Yes, it is bad. I get excitable when I see "Free" and "Books" in the same sentence and we are going to hint at the possibility of the occasional acquisition of reading materials via dubious means such as tnerrot tib and the like. I've read two so far. One real, one electronic, and so far I feel like I'm achieving some kind of homeostatic balance. Don't worry, you'll get the full Nerd-out review of all that a deem mentionable. =)

I would have married the Beast just for the library,

Friday, May 17, 2013

My Epidermis is Delicious

I have a macabre fascination with the living dead. Yes. I am talking about zombies. One of my favorite television shows and comics is The Walking Dead.  I don't know what it is about the dead coming back to life and feasting on the living, but I fall for it every time. I've watched virtually every Resident Evil incarnation with the exception of the latest one or two; Seen the old George A. Romero(Godfather of Zombies) films and their remakes i.e. the shark jumping yet terrifying Dawn of the Dead starring Ving Rhames; and, after exploring some other literature to be discussed in a later post, will endeavor to read the sure to be thrilling World War Z novel.  I'd say I have zombie on the brain, but that seems like tempting the devil.

I know I'm not unique in my fascination with zombies. I will venture to say that I am probably unique in that I pursue this passion being completely terrified of zombies.

When I was a wee kinderling I was obsessed with scary. Scary movies. Scary stories. Haunted houses. If there was a chance that "blood has been spilled this night" (a dozen nerd points to the people who get that reference) I was there. I can't say for certain why. I was/am a very happy bubbly person. I never went through a goth phase or any such equivalent; nor did I find small mammals to dismember in the backyard. I just enjoyed some good old fashion horror.  I read goosebumps avidly and even read those 13 ghosts of insert state name here books. I was never frightened of the materials either....with the exception of the Leprechaun. To this day I have not seen this movie in its entirety even though I love me some Jennifer Aniston. Notice how it is the only reference not linked, yeah, won't even look at stills; it just creeps me out.

I think after a while I went on a search to find something that would really terrify me. But, the problem with that is once you start watching too many scary movies, you start to see the tropes, the recurring theme in all. The cliche. Protagonist always trips up while running from antagonist. Protagonist of color dies early. Protagonist runs upstairs for some inexplicable reason, as if exists are located on upper floors, jump scare after jump scare after jump scare, etc.  So scary movies, for me, blended into the same category as say going to see Will Ferrell's latest movie. Then I discovered zombies.

I'm not sure which film was actually the clincher. I think I'd watched some, had to have with the amount of television and movies I'd viewed over time, but I'm not really sure when I discovered that this was the one antagonist that in its purest form, without me jazzing it up with my imagination, I truly had a fear of.  If I had to take a guess I'd say it was after I watched the steroid induced take on the genre that was the aforementioned Dawn of the Dead remake. I recall having some vivid dreams about being chased by zombies and getting pinned down somewhere with survivors.

In any case, I found my horror movie monster and it was like meeting my soul mate. Kudos to myself for picking a classic monster btw, Jigsaw and Jason can suck it! (jk if you guys are real and reading this blog ^-^) When I like something I tend to obsess over it for a time and ingest every bit of information I can get about it until I'm satisfied that I've had enough then I move on to another obsession....Maybe my thing with zombies isn't as complicated as I think it is...

I grew out of my love for horror films, they just became too predictable and boring and infuriating for the most part. However, I've never truly moved on from zombies. I don't know why but it/they've become one of those indelible marks on my life that just won't disappear no matter what I shovel on top of it (<<Ha! Get it? Cause zombies...rise...from the, nevermind)

So, in conjunction with my previous post on resuming the habit of writing and this post; I present to you my very few, but wonderful readers, my love letter to your reincarnated shambling corpses...pending apocalypse of course. =)


Horde: A Walker's Manifesto
Insatiable. Want. Want. Want. Need. Need. Insatiable.
It hurts to stop. Hurts to move.
But we/it/they/I move. And it is pain to move, but she/me/he/moves.
One and none together, move together. Move and hurt and thirst and hunger together alone.
Ravenous, I/her/him move. Need. Want. Want. Need. Now. Now. Now. Ravenous.
Insatiable. Unsated. Just a little. Stop the pain. Fill up the rift. Just a little.
Fill up the gap.
Just a little. Mend up the...
Fix the...
It is missing. Unsated It misses. It misses. He/she/I misses the It.
In the gap.
It goes in the gap.
Just a little.
Just a little goes in the gap.
In the gap. Missing It.
Just a little.
Just a little. Just a little..
In the gap just a little more.
And more.
And more.
Just a little more and more. In the gap.
No more. All.
All in the gap.
Insatiable. Ravenous. Missing It.
Noise! Noise! Noise! Where?
There! There! Hear the It! Hear the It! The Missing It!
Her/his/my/our It. Our It. Hear it! Find It. Put It in the gap.
It goes in the gap.
Just a little for the gap. Just a little.
Just a little and a little more and more.
Find It. Our missing It. Our missing It. Together alone.
No more. All.
All in the gap. All in the gap. Into the missing the noise goes.
Here's the noise. Here.
The It is in the noise. The noise has the it.
We must need. Must want.
Give us/her/him/me the it. Me. Me! ME! Give ME the IT!
Take It from the noise. The noise has It. Take It.
Bite It. Rip It. Tear It. Gnaw It from the noise.
Not just a little.
They/she/he want. Mine. Take It. Devour It. Fill the gap. The deep gap with noise's It...

Insatiable. Want. Want. Want. Need. Need. No more noise
All of It gone. Gone.
Another me/he/she/they.Together Alone.
Together Alone...
More. More. More.
It hurts to move.
We move.

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

So That's Why It's Called Buffering!

I'm going to be redundant. That is I'm going to repeat myself. Which is to say I will reiterate something I've already previously said, or in this case written here. It's about writing. For some inane reason I want to be a writer. I know. I know. In the days of the future where every book has a movie or can be downloaded as an audio file, and news is delivered via podcasts and newspapers/magazines are going the way of the Phorusrhacids (basically a big ass extinct bird, also known as a Terror Bird) What on earth would possess and motivate me to want to tie my fate to this Titanic of media output. I'm a dreamer I guess. You can probably tell by the fact that this is a blog and not a vlog how much I prefer the old medium to the new. But wishes are just that, wishes.  I don't know what the hold back is. Maybe I'm filled with the same doubts as anyone trying to pursue a non-conformist middle American job.

Avoiding delving into the bottomless pit that is my psyche for just one more post, we will start with a huge problem of accomplishing this dream. I don't write. This may seem contradictory to the evidence that these words are presenting to you right now, but trust me when I say I don't write.  I read a phenomenal book once, called The Lie That Tells the Truth.  It was assigned reading for a class I was taking, so I was skeptical at first, but the author, John Dusfresne, gave some solid advice all of it so simple a cave person could do it...if a cave person had transcended the rudimentary drawing phase of human communications into a written know what I mean.

My brain is bad, so I don't retain a lot of non-essential information, but I do remember one thing from Dusfresne's book was that he advised you to write everyday.  Of course this is virtually impossible for the citizen on the go with real life concerns, but he is very adamant about writing every day or often enough. To be a writer, you must simply write basically.  It's the only way to get your ideas out and it's the only way they will turn into something more if skill and fate so design.

Hence my dilemma. I don't write anymore. I use to write a lot. Stupid little short stories and character pieces, poems, songs, anything. And then somewhere along my life plan I started buffering.  Buffering is the term I've come to most associate with my life as of the date of this entry.  A lot of people my age are long past that transitioning stage, that growth stage, the eye rollingly nauseating "finding myself" stage, but I am not. I'm still working on some things, still discovering what I want to be when I grow up, and trying (and failing) at a couple of things still. So my life story is still loading at about 30bit/s and it isn't in HD and I am fine with that.

Well, not fine, but dealing in any case. However, my writing has suffered. I haven't really written anything other than a research paper or blog or email in a long time and that is just unacceptable, which is the reason why I even decided to write a blog in the first place. To dust off the old cobwebs so to speak (did I use another cliche? I hate myself) I'm going to attempt to take Dusfresne's advice and write something non academic for a change. I've had this brilliant idea several times over the past couple of years, but I'm really going to attempt to do this for real this time. I even bought a writing journal (granted I bought it a couple months ago, so I'm still behind on my goal but you know better late than...If I write one more cliche I'm punching myself). 

Signature Sign Off to Come, (I seriously have no idea what it should be, but I'll figure it out)

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Introductions Are Out of Order

I hate ice breakers, and I don't mean the gum. I'm talking about the insufferable inane moments in life whereby being in the same room at the same time with a given number of people somehow qualifies them to know a portion of your background.  Have you ever noticed that during a multitude of hours of the day, at a grocery store, or court house, or library, that you're in rooms full of strangers and feel no obligation whatsoever to stand up and introduce yourself; or play a game where every third person to speak has to sing a song or repeat the information the first two people said? It happens all the time, and its perfectly natural.  Yet somehow at work, or school, or social events/gatherings, the circumstantial workings of the wide world that have brought you thither under one roof are no longer good enough, and now I have to waste precious brain cells on listening to you jaw on about your husband, wife, kid, major, hometown, pets, and shopping carts; when I could have been secretly playing Candy Crush Saga and petitioning for a ticket to the lollipop village!

In any case, I am forced once again to introduce myself (let's just ignore the obvious irony that this blog is voluntary and move on) and am again finding myself for the loss of words. I'm not a bragger, and though I know myself better than anyone else I have no clue what to say. What's too little information? I am a person. What's too much? I pooped outside once and I was not on a camping trip. Where is the line? I don't know what is considered entertainment in the blogosphere. Somehow I think the best bloggers have found a way to ride that fine line.  They give just enough to provide intrigue yet not so much as to run off potential readers or watchers if we're talking about vloggers. I already think I've lost some potential readers as is because this introduction is too long and we are dealing with the attention span of the average American here. So let me shorten and stupid this up for the generals.

My Blog:

  1. I don't know what it will be about, but always believe in the promise of cookies
  2. I like to experiment, so the layout will change until I am either satisfied or apathetic
  3. Get a dictionary, it will expand your mind
  4. Don't depend on me for consistency (see point 1.)
  5. The web is anonymous so feel free to say anything in comments. I won't delete it I promise....unless it's like links to child pornography or snuff films. I'm not going to jail for your first amendment rights.
Signature Sign Off  To Come,