The other night, I saw a man with a tattoo that said “only God can judge me”. I wondered how that related to me.
It could be that he does not fully appreciate my ability to judge others, including him. I examine people and decide how I feel about them. That judgment is not always correct. I’ve been pleasantly surprised to find that I was wrong. A few times, disappointed.
The fact is, I am able to judge him.People judge each other. Making judgments about people is a survival skill. Do I trust this person? Should I be around them, or get away? Valid judgments we (and he) make all the time.
It is this judge’s opinion that this tattooed young gentleman judged (or, more correctly, misjudged) me and my ability to judge him. So, in my judgment, he is a hypocrite for judging me.
I’ve been curious about what it would be like to write on a consistent theme. I enjoy writing whatever words are ready to come out of me, but I couldn’t help wondering what writing was like for people who had a focus.
Then came a night last week. I was watching a movie that I’d never heard of and really enjoying it. As far as I knew, no one I know had seen Jiro Dreams Of Sushi. If they had, I was a little ticked that they hadn’t told me about it. Read the rest of this entry »
So I’ve pretty much survived this week on Ny-Quil, Day-Quil and my home-made chicken soup. Yes, I am best friends with all the various Quils. I think chicken soup is a Quil. Chicken-Quil.
While I have done some good writing while on the green elixir of health, it didn’t happen this week. I think I’m about squared away now and will be making some new words next week.
If you’re looking for words, here are some old ones about how I will get into the music industry.
Also, this Sunday is Super Bowl Sunday. Hey did you know that the opposing coaches are brothers? No? Watch the game, I’m certain it will come up at least 20 times.
Anyhow, I’m on call again this Super Bowl. No party for me. I will be celebrating that this is my last year of being on call during the game by blogging during the game. Why blog during the game? Because it’ll keep me from barking at the TV, and I had some success with it a few years ago. Come on by during the game and keep me company since I’m (once again) not going out to play.
Parents send their children out in to the world and wonder. What’s going on? What are they up to?
Back when I was in college, parents kept up with their kids with occasional long distance calls in the evenings, when the phone company rates dropped. In between calls, they could only hope that we didn’t do anything to get ourselves in the papers.
The net and cell phones make things so much easier. I hear from the Omawari-son much more than my parents ever dreamed of hearing from me. And when he travels with the band, I can hope he’s doing something to get himself in the paper.
And thanks to The Tennessean, I can get a peek at what’s going on with his trip to play at the Music City Bowl in Nashville. Future’s so bright, he’s gotta wear shades.
Go Pack. Don’t know which football team wins, but I damn sure know which band does – this one.
Happy New Year, everyone. My thanks to all of you who read and encourage my writing. I’ve got more to come.
A long time ago, in a town far from here, a young couple had a son.
I wrote that first sentence, then realized I’m writing this during the Christmas season. It wasn’t that long ago, not that far from here, not that kid. The couple was my parents and I was the kid. So, I’m off to a good start because you already know this is far from the greatest story ever told.
Anyhow, the young couple named their son Leonard. Yes, that’s my real name. My blog says I’m Omawarisan, but my birth certificate, my driver’s license and my voter registration card say that I’m Leonard.
No one calls me Leonard. I was Lenny until I got to college and decided that Len was more mature sounding. To my folks and a certain group of my closest friends, I’m still Lenny. To most of the world, my name is Len. Len is the problem. When you say Len, with a southeastern US accent, it ends up sounding like Lynn.
I’ve worked for the same organization since 1985. There people there who I’ve known for decades. They’ve known me in good times and bad. But they don’t seem to know that my name is not Lynn. Lynn sounds like someone who is perky and loves a cute pair of shoes. I don’t perk and love a beat up pair of tennis shoes.
These people see my name in writing. In the old days, I’d leave people a note and sign it Len. They’d write back to Lynn. Today, I send e-mails with my name in the signature on the bottom: L – E – N. They don’t respond to that guy, Len. They write to that perky Lynn. Read the rest of this entry »
This is the Omawari-son – student, environmentalist, musician, lord of the dance, and friend to birds of prey. When he plays trombone and sings, the authorities dispatch an ambulance for the safety of those who are overwhelmed by the experience.
So, what’s with him now?
Well, final exams are over and he is back in town for a little while.
He and the N.C. State Marching Band will be traveling to Nashville during the semester break to play at a bowl game.
Some of you may remember the blog he wrote this summer documenting his summer internship adventures. He’s started a new blog, because apparently the writing required by a full class load isn’t enough for him. The new blog is Words From A Hat. Hope to see you there
There are moments and things in life that should be preserved. The thing I want to preserve here is a smell. The smell is so foul, so dangerous, it would not be responsible of me to capture it with anything other than words.
Think of a tuna sandwich. Make it one with everything on it, lettuce, tomato, extra mayo. What the heck, let’s add pickles too. It’s a big sandwich, isn’t it? Bigger than you realize. This sandwich is a few inches short of six feet tall. It weighs close to two hundred pounds.
You might like tuna sandwiches. That is your prerogative. I think we could agree that no matter how we feel about tuna, a sandwich the size of ours would be particularly strong smelling. Read the rest of this entry »
Well, there was a lot of overtime this weekend. I got paid, but not to write.
I’ve got to find a way to get that paid to write deal.
The upshot of all this is that I do not have a new post for you to read. I’m going to put you in the Wayback Machine and send you back to 2010 and a post about my favorite candy
Shucks, just go here and read it.