no you can't have a house now shut the fuck up
there is no real description mostly editorial about various subjects
My dream job is not working.
Well, there are so many haters, simply because it is easy.
I started writing music reviews my first year of college in the year 1999. Because like every other male in their early twenties I wanted to write for a music magazine. The only remotely unique part of my dream was I preferred Spin to rolling Stone. I earned my sea legs by covering concerts and doing album reviews for the then University College of the Cariboo student newspaper oMega. The school is now known as Thompson Rivers University and was actually where I also started this blog.
While critiquing cd's specifically I started to notice how much easier it was to write negative reviews. Not because the actual writing birthed itself out of my fingertips more easily but more that I could stay emotionally detached. That way I wouldn't be vulnerable if the album was universally panned and my view stood out.
I didn't want to be "the guy who liked that terrible (fill in the blank) band" but rather be "that guy who knows what he's talking about because he doesn't like that shitty new album from (fill in the blank) that everyone says they like because they are swayed by the record label".
This is often referred to as "drinking the kool-aid" because the negative people like you to think you were tricked into liking it and are crazy for adoring something that is obvioisly garbage.
The term "drinking the kool-aid" is a referrence to the act of people's temple leader Jim Jones ordering his cult to drink cyanide laced grape Kool-Aid (also less expensive Flavor Aid) killing roughly 918 people in the Jonestown Massacre of 1978. (Babies and other people who couldn't drink were giving involuntary injections).
The metaphor simply means that if you were to give some critical thought and exploration you would never agree to drink a poison laced fruit drink no matter how delicious an idea it seemed at first. No matter how flashy the band's cover art or even how sexy the artists were you would never drink their juice by saying their music was good.
Now fast forward 14 years. Today with the proliferation of the internet everyone views themselves as a critic. Actually, frighteningly, with the spread of information in the global village, everyone has become a critic.
It takes mere minutes for someone to ham fist a review by stringing together a couple of paragraphs about their opinions on a movie, T.V. show, book, album, photo essay or even, heaven forbid, a spoken word showcase. Throw in some anecdotal side tracks about a mass suicide in Guyana (that's where the Jonestown Massacre took place) and you can throw a blog post together in barely any hours from anywhere.
I wrote this post on my galaxy s3 while sipping on an unsweetened cuppacino frappe outside of an un-airconditioned cafe named after a play on words with beans and zebras. I didn't like the drink at first because the unsweetend flavor seemed bitter and unrelenting but it did relent. My palat grew acustumed to the lack of sugar and revelled in the nuance of a drink made with nothing more than the flavors of esspresso and homo milk smashed together with ice.
With everyone being a critic how many percents of these semi-verbose people did you think would take the easy way out. Well an ill-proportionately large amount obviously judging from the vitriol seeping out of the internet.
I mean really who wouldn't go negative to finish an opinion piece faster and look cool on the internet where it's only ok to love something everyone else does and you can only love it for two weeks.
Well as some of you know i quit my not so lucrative career as a professional graphic designer in favor of gaining a more secure future.
I did the opposite of most people's life goals. I took my career and turned it into a hobby then i went and got a day job... Well more like the promise of a better day job.
It's been six months since i made the move to become a shop hand in july. I'm not a welder yet-actually not even an apprentice yet. I'm still basically a laborer who lifts heavy things, sweeps the floor and everything else anyone with more seniority doesn't want to do. I fucking love it.
I'll admit i was pretty convinced i would hate it before i started but watching the news paper crumble before my eyes over the last few years i knew i had to make a big change in my direction if i was ever going to eventually own a porsche.
Yeah that's right i want a porsche. It's in the five year plan. I will own a porsche 911 by july 2017 just in time for my birthday. I didn't say the year or relative value of said porsche because i'll have to wait and see how fat my toy fund is at a later date. Although owning a mid 80's rat bagged black rust buket with that big retarded porsche spoiler still gets my blood pumping.
It is a shallow goal, i understand and fully admit it but that doesn't mean it's a bad goal.
One thing i've learned over the years is you shouldn't lie. Specifically you shouldn't lie to yourself and that whole rhetoric of money wealth not mattering is the biggest false truth i had myself convinced of.
Sure in my mid 20s loving what i did for work was pretty important but as i'm nearing the end of my early 30's not having anything to show for my 7 years of work and dedication to the print design industry starting became a lot more important. Also depressing.
So now i'm doing the welding path thing and at first it was the promise of the aformentioned better future that fuelled my drive, that is until i realized i loved it.
Getting a good sweat on makes you feel good. Working in coveralla in late july provides me with all the sweaty workout i could ever ask for. Needless to say i quit going to the gym. Who needs and elliptical and some dead lifts when you've got a floor to sweep and a million billion assorted heavy things to put in a shelf.
The most surprising thing is how suck i was of a desk job. Wearing uncomfortable shirts and sitting down turns out to be more frustrating hard work theny labour ever was. A sweet added bonus is i get to hit shit with a hammer, which surprise surprise, is quite cathartic.
Some of the dudes at work (yes the shop is entirely men) are surprised when i tell them what i used to do and some are baffled i would ever give up the office job to become a welder. Especially whe as one guy put it i went to college. I didn't have the heart to tell him i basically only went to college because i didn't want to get a job and barely made it through graduating with a 2 point something i don't recall grade point average. It's hard to remember the specifics of a fact that's so embarassing.
This ties nicely into another aspect of why i quit graphic design. I actually have no schooling in it i just decided i liked it better than writing (i have a degree in jounalism) and started doing it instead. So in order to stay employable i would have to go back to school. Since i'm too old to party with college kids and it not be creepy i'm no hurry to go back.
Also i still have student loans from 8 years ago that i never paid off because i was too busy loving my work and not worrying about money. Another embarassing fact.
With my new path i get the experience i need while working and the two months schooling you need for every year the company pays for, win win.