What?!

Ok. So I'm on my phone typing this... And it seems like this may cramp my style.

But I'm seriously not understanding what the heck the point in a blog is? Like, really. Is it a diary? A place to vent? Who am I even talking to?!

I was with a good friend of mine - Alison. She's actually a follower of this blog. She's a better person than me - you should follow her. Anyhow... I was with The Jap (that's her loving nickname) and we were discussing the point in a blog and sorta decided that it's weird. Some people even start their "posts" with "Dear Blog." My only response to that is. Well.

Huh!?

I don't get it. I feel quite silly writing a blog. But it is a good excuse to write. And if I bring myself to write often enough, maybe I'll get inspiration!

I want a taquito.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Networking?! Geekery?!

Dammit!  I admit it.  I'm a frikkin' geek.  It burns me to say it, but I'm actually a geek.  I do geekish things, say geekish things, and talk like a geek.  


Someone can call me and say, "Hey, my computer isn't connecting to the internet well.  Why?"  I immediately think of at least 13 things that could be going wrong - connected to wrong network, connected to a public network, firewalls, network card errors, something related to the wireless card, is the computer even wireless?!  Then the challenge becomes trying to help the person figure out what went wrong and figure out ways to ask without sounding overly geeky and losing them in the first 3 words.  


Recently, I was at work where I have a VLAN set up on a switch which is connected to a specific type of router that distributes a T1 line through my VLAN (I'm pretty sure) and it's all connected to a MIB for our VoIP access but the router and VLAN will only be used as a backup for our data.  So all of this is tied into my tiny little Linksys router.  I'm going to venture a guess and say that made no sense.  Sadly - I would have looked at you like you were crazy if you said most of that to me a year ago.  I would understand VoIP and maybe VLAN (but that would just be an assumed understanding).

Now, I'm 22 years old and know way more than I want to about networking, static IPs, the command function, utilizing remote desktop, PINGing, and so many other things that could give me insta-head ache if I let it.  I had a dude from NYC call me the other day in response to a situation where I had VoIP phones that were smoking.  He works for a company that is geekerific.  He says, "Kristen, we're not sure this problem could actually be due to faulty equipment."  Being slightly snarky, and not feeling that well that day, I responded, "Uh huh, ok.  Yeah, it's the equipment."  He said, "Alright, well, let's just see."  He then asked me a series of questions which were all intended to imply that I had set up the network wrong.  I had done everything correctly.  He was shocked and sent me new equipment.  He said he was surprised and asked me, "What was your major?"  I almost didn't want to respond - he didn't even know that I've gone to college.  I said, "Interpersonal communication."  


That is when I realized I should have gone into a technical field like computer science.  I apparently suck at talking to people.  For gosh's sake, I said, "Uh huh, ok."  In a professional setting!  

I network and solve computer issues better than I communicate.


Crap.

I'm a geek.

I Don't Read

I really don't read. Ever. I don't even really, really, REALLY read the stupid emails I get at work. If they come from my boss, sure, I'll read it. Or if they come from someone I manage, I'll read it. But for the most part, if it's something I have to read and focus on, I'm not going to do it.

I write. Therefore, I don't read. Well, that seems lame. And I'll admit - it is lame. To be a great writer, I should probably read great writers, right? I refuse. I can watch TV or text a friend, play scrabble with a friend, cook some food, bake a cake, yell at a friend, or take a nap in the time it would take me to find the book that fit the mood that I was in. That said, reading is a waste of time.

There was a time, I'll admit, where I was basically addicted to reading. I read almost every book I could get my hands on. My favorites for a while were The Left Behind Series. I was completely and utterly addicted. When I ran out of the kid's series, I read the adult series. I would read two or three of the 500-page books in one week. Then I ran out of books altogether. I read Mark Twain and my personal favorite was The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. I read Christy by Catherine Marshall several times and read the entire Anne of Green Gables Series in about a month.

But that was a long time ago.

Now -

I just don't read.

My parents used to make me read (that's probably part of why I don't read now). I read some of the worst crap I've ever read. For example - Brothers Karamozov (I used to call it Brothers Krapamozov as it seemed more appropriate). Worst piece of "literature" ever known to man. I attempted to get through it. It was decided that I only needed to read the first chapter, the middle chapter and the last chapter was enough.

I guess that's probably why my biggest weakness as a writer is writing. I'm not a good writer. I suck at writing dialogue. Don't even really care to attempt writing good dialogue.

I probably will never be a good writer.

Because I don't read.

Eh. Bummer.

My Addiction

This is just a seven-minute free-write I did one day when I couldn't sleep. So it was really at night. I'm an addict. Read about it.

It should be shaming, but I do not even care. Even knowing I should be appalled at myself and judge anyone like me, I have to admit I am far from afraid to admit to this addiction. It takes 30 minutes of mindless entertainment for me to become attached to something that is wholly unreal. Not in the cool, surrealistic, let’s-be-amazed-that-that-happened sort of way, but in the obvious it’s-actually-fiction sort of way. Once an episode of one of my sitcoms is over, I freak out and wait impatiently for however many months it takes until the DVD comes out.

I am totally addicted to sitcoms.

And honest to God, I do not care how pathetic it seems from the outside.

“The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.” I gotta admit. That makes me smile. I admitted that I have a problem and there is no way between now and well hell freezes over that I will “recover” from my addiction. If anything, I will feed it and allow it to grow like an annoying weed.

There is nothing about the patheticality (yeah, I made up a word. Shakespeare did.) of a situation comedy obsession and addiction that makes me feel like a loser or feel ashamed. There is nothing better than sitting down on a comfy couch or laying in my tiny bed and mindlessly watching as a cast of characters share their fictitious lives with me. Lowly, boring, untalented, mildly funny me.

A sitcom. All it takes to create a sitcom is three or four mildly funny people in their mid-twenties or early thirties. Add one slutty character who lies about their age and you have yourself a winner. Of course, there has to be at least one really good looking male character and one extraordinarily thin, gorgeous female character. When you stir it all together, you have a hilarious conglomeration that I should be ashamed to laugh about.

Though I do not feel like I owe the world an explanation of my addiction, it seems like I should share my addiction to others. These “essay” could be used as a type of AA for sitcom addicts. Yeah, there are others. I know several. This piece could be something that helps people admit they have an addiction. Really, AA is a bad example. This is a non-hurtful addiction. One that I love. And will never get rid of.

This is why I am not afraid to admit to my addiction. Plus, the characters are people. They are fake people who are possessed by real people who take on the characteristics of a new person. It is one person becoming another and living that character until some executive decides they are not funny enough and kill them off. Or just make three of six characters “move on” in “life,” which of course means the show has lost its thunder. Even though this thunder is only lost because one writer got mad at another and the politics take over the show. They have many terms for this: artistic arguments, artistic dispute, artistic bitching, etc. You have no idea how many times I have been mad at producers, writers, directors, and TV actors and actresses for not being able to control their emotions so that I could continue living in the lives of fake people. When I say it like that, I feel a tad more pathetic, I must admit.

The final episode of “Friends” makes me tear up every time I watch it. A friend of mine told me his grandmother died today. I felt sorry for him, but there were no tears – at all. I think of the final episode of this epic sitcom and immediately put myself in the shoes of Jenifer Aniston, Courtney Cox Arquette, David Crane, Marta Kaufman, David Schwimmer, and everyone else related to the show (not even including those who watched it faithfully from week to week) and mourn for them. Can you even imagine seeing the same people every day for 10 years, growing completely attached to each other, loving each other and watching it end because it is “time?” Oh, and imagine watching the set get taken down. That is like actually watching 10 years of your life just drop down to the ground as you watch it.

I put myself in the shoes of both the character and the actor when I watch the “end of an era.” I feel like I actually have a connection to these people. I can hardly describe the emotion that flows through my thoughts as I think about how hard it would be to have a funny line in the middle of a dramatic ending to an incredible TV show.

Sarcasm: One of the many services I offer.

I’m a big fan of sarcasm.  Its literal meaning is “tearing of the flesh.”  I love that!  The image is perfect.  And should be kind of scary.  And probably instill a sense of caution when using sarcasm as a form of conversation, communication, or comedy. 

Happily – using sarcasm is basically my favorite form of talking.  I’m sarcastic all the time.

Think about it.  Most comedians rely on sarcasm in some way.  To be a “young person” in America, you should probably have a decently thick skin and be prepared for verbal combat with a person by mastering sarcasm.  I, personally, have some pretty damn thick skin.  It’s almost impossible to hurt my “feelings.”  (Some people even argue that I have no feelings)  I love when my friends are sarcastic with me because I love to play verbal volleyball with them and see who’s sarcastic quips are best! 

Social networking is basically a breeding ground for sarcasm.  I never login to Facebook without the expectation of a sarcastic email, comment or at least seeing a sarcastic status update.  It’s everywhere and I love it.

I’ll admit that some people really don’t grasp the concept of sarcasm.  They think that if the “tone” is sarcastic, anything goes.  Snarky does not, by any means, equal sarcasm.  Sure, you can be snarkastic, but that’s completely different and should only be used between people who know each party can handle the rudeness.  For example, this week, my status update said, “Kristen is so glad she can wear sweats to work.”  The comment thread went like this:

Friend 1:  I need a job where I can wear sweats AND make $9/hour.

Friend 2:  I HAVE a job where I can wear sweats AND make MORE than $9/hour.

Within about 11 minutes, I deleted the comment from Friend 2.  How in God’s name is that something that should be said?!  Friend 2 ended up being mad that I deleted her comment and I emailed her to say that it was rude.  I even said, “Sarcasm is one thing, rudeness another.”  Her argument was that I “misread” her tone and she was only being sarcastic.  Somehow my point on the fact that tone isn’t everything was completely lost on her.  Point being: you can be sarcastic and not be a bitch.

I do my best not to be a bitch.  And have quite a few friends so I’m kind of assuming I’m doing alright with that goal.  Sure, deleting a comment looks bitchy, but, what the hell!?  She was being rude to someone she didn’t even know.

You know how in my first post I said I had no idea what I would write about?  Yeah, I still don’t.  This whole thing really had no point except that I love sarcasm.  As long as it’s actually sarcasm not snarkasm.

Blogger? Really!?

If you know me at all (which, for your sake, I hope you don't), you know that blogging is something I consider a waste of time. I really have no idea why I would blog. I really have no idea why it's a good idea for me to blog. However, I'm told (pretty much daily) that I am "frikkin hilarious." So I figure I should change more people's lives and share my frikkin hilariosity on the internet. Who the heck knows?! Maybe my blog will be famous one day. Maybe I'll become a comic writer because I'm funny. Or maybe I'll just make a bunch of people cry and/or wish they were dead. Please don't mention me in suicide notes, though. That might hang over my head for the rest of my life.


All that said, I'll probably write about a myriad of things. I really have no plan for this blog except that it probably won't get read. I may put "excerpts" from my non-fiction in here and I may write long, drawn out explanations of why I think the way I do. I would highly recommend avoiding reading that... But only because I'm crazy.

Now that I have written this far, I'm realizing that I have no idea who I'm talking to. This is very much a random, nonsensical piece of stream of consciousness showing my insanity and proving that I talk to myself too much.





So, in honor of those who have told me I should blog and in honor of those who tell me I'm hilarious, I am starting this Blog. Which really isn't a blog.