Todd's Blog vs The Backhoe

Smart Guy: 'ey! w'sup?

Dumb Guy: Nut'un'. Jus' diggin' a hole to get some dirt ta fill in this other hole that I made gettin' dirt to fill in this other hole ...

Smart Guy: OK. OK. But what about the hole you're ... oh never mind ... I've got to go get on MySpace and read Todd's blog.

Dumb Guy: Tawd's blawg?

Smart Guy: His on-line journal, his web log, we--blog, Blog for short. Get it?

Dumb Guy: You tawk funnee.

Smart Guy: Never mind – sometimes he uses big words.

Dumb Guy: Shewwwt, I was hoping it was a concise literary record of his contemplation of every day existentialism coupled occasionally with poignant vignettes and humorous asides chronicled in an artsy, yet accessible, style of prose and free form poetry.

Smart Guy: I ... uhhhh ... you .... uhhh ...

Dumb Guy: Shewwwwt, you know some of that "poetry" don't even riiiime.

Smart Guy: What do you know about poetry?

Dumb Guy: I'm writin' a poem 'bout ma shuuvel.

Smart Guy: So, how's that going?

Dumb Guy: What riiiimes with shuuvel?


Join in next time to hear Dumb Guy say:

Ha' cuuum Tawd's on your space? Why ain't he on his own space? Hmmm ... buuvel ... cuuvel ... duuvel ... fuuvel ...

The drone of Dumb Guy's own voice lulls him into a nap. He sleeps the sweet sleep of the disaffected. He dreams of being home in his bed sleeping and awakens with rhyming words for not only shovel, but also orange and a whole list of other words long thought unrhymable. Unfortunately, before he can share them with the world, he gets run over by a backhoe. Go figure.

The moral: if you're home reading Todd's blog you are less likely to get run over by a backhoe.

Todd Dufrene Unique Human

One of my deepest fears is my fear of being average. Not that there is anything at all wrong with being an 'Average Joe'. In fact, our similarities and averageness are the glue that hold us together. A commonality that says "welcome brother, you are part of the great fraternity of humanity". In fact, it is hard for us to relate to someone we perceive as vastly superior, or inferior, to ourselves. We tend to avoid them and label them as freakish. Such is the plight of the genius, or the idiot-savant, or the garden variety idiot. All equally alien. All equally abnormal. All equally outside of the parameters of what we can relate to.

I am no great thinker. I am not driven. I am not a superior athlete, businessman, or intellect. Neither am I a complete moron, quadriplegic, or sluggard. Much to my chagrin, I fall somewhere in the middle of that giant bell curve that defines averageness. Remarkable only in my exceptional mediocrity. Neither high enough up the scale to be proud nor low enough to be entertainingly and endearingly inept.

A friend of mine emailed me and indicated jokingly (I hope) that I would really benefit from a little therapy. In my reply, I found myself exaggerating my own craziness, for comedic effect, but also (to psychoanalyze myself for a moment) out of a need to be exceptional. Better to be crazy (exceptional) than sane (average). It's as if I could deal better with being on either extreme of the sanity scale – but not in the middle. Of course, saying I was extremely sane was out of the question, since no one would buy that, so I had to opt for the insane option (which holds more comedic promise anyway). If you can't go for the gold – go for the laugh, right?

Everyone wants to fit in. Everyone wants to be special. Most want some claim to fame, but to remain safely within the confines of normalcy. Of course there are exceptions. You will always meet the occasional rebel who revels in standing outside of the mainstream. But, even then, they usually feel the need to have a common bond with other rebels. There will be a baseline normalcy within any chosen niche.

The biker. The brain surgeon. The tattoo artist. The corporate executive. It's all relative. Most will end up in the middle of their own subgroup's scale. Of course a mediocre brain surgeon still, hopefully, has exceptional intelligence and dexterity as compared to the population at large. The biker may think himself quite a rebel. He may have the baddest bike and the coolest tats in town. Then he goes to Sturgis and realizes that his bike and his tats are, well, average within that group.

Of course the person who likes to blend in and longs to be accepted, has an equally hard task. We do have an underlying common humanity, but also an endless diversity of variations. Snowflakes. People. Each unique. Each individual. We do, at first glance, seem to be a homogeneous mass, but look closer at that ordinary looking person you see beside you. Their features are not exactly like anybody else's. The twists and turns of their life story would probably shock you. You truly cannot judge a book by it's cover. Who knows how many unassuming Clark Kents hide a Superman inside? Who knows how many apparent statuesque gods have feet of clay?

I guess the question becomes how to stand out and yet blend in. How to be exceptional and yet be acceptable. How to be neither a nameless, faceless drone nor a sideshow attraction. How to reconcile the great paradox I am: unique – human.

Oh, I do love – the blog

Oh brother.

I have made yet another addition to my ever increasing repertoire of annoying habits. Answering an email should be a relatively simple task. Read the email sent to you. Answer any questions posed therein. Throw in a few pleasantries and a question in return - to keep the conversation going. Simple enough right? NO, I make it into a term-paper-sized project – deep reflection, research, writing, correcting, spell checking, proof reading, correcting, proof reading, correction, ad nauseam ...

Apparently there is a creative urge that dwells within me that has not been given adequate voice. Hence, THE BLOG! Oh, I do love – the blog. Where else can you freely ramble and vent and feel like it may actually be read by and appreciated by anyone given to perusing the world wide web? What better excuse to stress over every subtle nuance of thought and language. What better drives us to engage in deep thought, to think critically, and to examine and reexamine our logic? What better impetus to make us consider proper punctuation?

If I write privately none of this really matters. But, since I will stress over it anyway, why not make it count? Somehow, the thought that someone, somewhere, at sometime, may actually read it makes all of the time and effort put into it seem ... I don't know ... more ... appropriate ... and less ... obsessive. After all, I am now writing for the benefit of all mankind. At least all of mankind with an internet connection who happen to stumble across my blog out in here the vast reaches of virtual space, a.k.a. the "blogosphere". Blogosphere. Oh, I do love geeky new words.

Of course, as of yet, I have no knowledge of anyone actually reading my ramblings. But, I press on undeterred – my optimism and enthusiasm undampened. For all of my obsessing over my writing, I am, surprisingly, not obsessed over whether my carefully crafted musings are ever read by anyone. The fun is merely in the act of crafting and obsessing - with or without good reason. And ... Oh, I do love crafting and obsessing.

what might have been

the news jolted my brain like a roundhouse kick upside my head
sapping my strength and evacuating the very oxygen from my lungs
your words, though not totally unexpected, still left me reeling

i walk away with a puzzled expression, shaking my head, mumbling under my breath, feeling a sense of bereavement

saddened at the sight of this bejeweled dream now stillborn, unrealized, wasted - an opportunity lost

but i refuse to dwell on the might-have-beens

pausing for a moment of sad remembrance i then fix a hopeful gaze futureward
tomorrow's bright sunrise will shine forth with a promise of new beginnings and new dreams imparted

my prayers are with you - fare thee well my sister, my friend