Nobody Likes an English Major

In the past few weeks, I've worked like crazy at work, and I am recently able to enjoy the fruits of my labor with a slight bump up in my finances (though the forbearance on my student loan payments also helps with that). So I can sit back for a little bit and reflect on what it is that I want out of life.

I want a life, basically.

Since last year and getting fired, I have been "out of the game," so to speak. My romantic attachment to a coworker there came to naught, mostly because I was, to use the proper English term as handed down to us from Dr. Samuel Johnson himself, a "pussy." Too many times I've come close to an emotional connection with someone; too many times I've managed to talk myself out of it or screw it up.

That ends now...or a few months from now. No, now.

Fear, of course, is a powerful emotion, as anyone who makes horror movies can tell you. It's always easier to not go into that spooky-looking house (though granted, the movie is really short and you end up feeling cheated. A buddy and I once traded ideas about how to make the world's shortest horror movie). Fear is based sometimes on experience, but most of the time it comes from the unknown, from the never-dreamt-of possibilities that your worst fears might not be realized, or at least not in the way that you imagined. Sometimes it's worse to do nothing than to do something, because even if you end up in some crazy ghost's Human Souffle, at least you're able to tell your figurative self that you tried.

I suppose it's wrong for me to air family laundry, so I won't go into details, but I have noticed that the inability to act is something of a family trait, whether to ask for help when you need it or just to be more assertive about what it is you want from another person. For a long time now, I've put my wants aside for others, mostly family, who need me to be there for them, and I don't regret it. But a central thought keeps coming up, doing its best to rob me of my satisifaction at another selfless act (though if it were truly selfless, would I take anything from it like that?). When will it be my turn?

I hope soon, or at least I hope to know soon. For now, of course, I must continue on, carrying a load that has seemed less oppressive of late, the burden of being stuck in a situation where the distance between what I want and what I have seems to be hard to cross. But I got a lot, so don't think this is anything more than a former English major's lament. I'm good, now I'm ready to be great.

I want Chuck Norris in the Octagon! No holds barred! ;-p

The Witching Hour

Hello on this Halloween Eve, my friends. Are you ready for a blood-curdling tale of horror and suspense?

Too bad, I don't work that genre too well.

But I do know someone who does: John Carpenter, whose The Thing was recently remade...I'm sorry, "prequeled" by a major Hollywood studio who said "I wonder what happened at the Norwegian camp where the Thing thawed out originally" (answer: chaos ensues). The 1951 original is also good, though less gory, in case you need Halloween viewing options.

I am not a horror guy by and large, and I feel like there's an undercurrent of Puritan morality and conservative politics in even the most forward-thinking horror, a sense of punishment for daring to break society's boundaries. Sure, you get to have all the pot and sex you want, but it means a machete through the groin when you're done. That never sat well with me (of course, if I had a machete in my groin, sitting well would be the least of my worries).

I'm currently making my way thru Jerry West's memoir (talk about transition from subjects), and it turns out that he's kind of a miserable bastard. This despite being the NBA logo, playing on a Lakers team that was always denied by the Celtics of that NBA championship until 1972, and supervising both the Showtime Lakers of the Eighties and the beginning of the Threepeat Lakers of the 00's. Still, though, I like the guy. I will post a review of the book on Amazon when I get done.

Ghouls and goblins abound, but beware the scariest Halloween creature of all: Monday morning! Evil laugh!....

Underbite of the Damned

Well, Clemson football this season is bound and determined to give me a heart attack: After going up twenty points on VTech, Tajh gets what looks like a bad injury against BC last week and then doesn't show up for the first half against Maryland. That's right, Maryland. Apparently their new QB is Tim Tebow, because he looked damn good last night. They had us beat a couple of times.

But then we came back, and kept coming back.

Sports is overused as a metaphor for life, but I feel like a season like this, as magical as it is, begs to be used by those who don't have a lot else to cling to as a reason to hold on. Whether we win anything big or not is not the issue (though that would be nice, after last season a winning record is good enough for me), it's the feeling you get when you see something that usually doesn't happen (or when it does, happens for the other team against yours) go right for your guys.

Do I think we'll go undefeated? No, I don't; but that's just the historian in me talking, the one who remembers great starts and so-so finishes to seasons past. God, it would be great, but I don't know if it's possible.

Of course, I don't think anyone had us going undefeated through seven games to start the year. Enjoy it, my friends, enjoy it.

Adversity is always around the corner, but we've been dealing with it pretty good so far. I mean, if we're undefeated, obviously it hasn't gotten to us yet.

So fingers crossed, this has already been a season to remember and it's not over yet. Nobody had us doing this so far, I wonder what else we can do with the season that's left. Whatever it is, I'll enjoy it. I can tell you that much.

An Open Letter to Hank Williams, Jr.

Hey, Hank, how are you? Rough week last week, huh?

Buddy, I defend your right to free speech as much as the next guy, but when you make an ass of yourself, ESPN is within every right to fire you. Yes, I said "fire". All this BS about you going to them first and quitting? It's face-saving for you, and not particularly convincing to me. I could be wrong, but I heard about the firing before I heard about you "quitting," and I'm pretty sure one or the other has to be true. And seeing as you're prone to crazy things coming out of your mouth, well...

I'm not saying that the Disney Corporation isn't innocent in all this mess; they have a lot of skeletons in their closet. A lot. But in this case, you really left them no choice.

I get that you don't like Obama, and I get that you felt the "golf summit" was a meeting of philosophical unequals. But saying it's like Hitler and the Israeli PM getting together to shoot some tees? Why didn't you go with the notion of you and Little Richard playing music together for a "apples and oranges" metaphor (that clip of the two of you performing the MNF theme was aired on the news a few times, now that's a bizarre crime-fighting team if I ever saw one. An effeminate black man and a stereotypical drunk white Southern guy; coming to NBC this spring!).

Let's face it, though: when was the last time anyone even talked about you? 1985ish? And Hank, buddy, I am not a fan of your music anyway, but really, the MNF theme was pretty disposable. Just throw in a lyric or two about the week's two teams and ask them to cut the check before you leave the studio, 'cause that Wild Turkey IV don't pay for itself, am I right?

I kinda feel like you are only famous because of your dad (who, I'm guessing, might have had the talent in the family. I could be wrong). That's the only reason you have a career, and I'll be damned if I can think of any other reason for people to care what you think. Yes, we have freedom of speech in this country...but we also have freedom to call someone out when they make an ass of themselves.

Hank, my pal...that's you.

Ride this to the top of iTunes, if you must, but just remember: you can't drink away the crazy.

Your friend,
Trevor "None of My Rowdy Friends Listen to Your Music" Seigler

Just Win, Baby

Another year is past, mein friends: I am officially thirty and the two, on this the day of our Lord October 9, 2011.

Meh...

Birthdays are more fun when you're a kid; you get tons of cool stuff that you didn't have before, or at least some money from relatives to enable you to buy said stuff on your own (plus a little extra if you so choose). As you get older, the choice selection in gifts gets narrower and narrower, unless you're into sexual fetish gear or collectible Star Wars figurines (for the record, neither really appeal to me).

So I went to get my niece something instead; she's just now seven months, and she keeps on growing so that six-months-size clothing is starting to be too small for her. So I got her a shirt for twelve months; she'll probably be wearing it by Christmas time.

She is my sweet baby girl...

I've had about as good and bad a year as I could have thought, in terms of professional and personal stuff. But as bad as things have been sometimes, I still figure there's a chance that my dream of being the first astronaut-late-night-talkshow-host-President of the United States could come true.

Or not.

When I Paint My Masterpiece

So a friend of mine recently asked me if I'd been writing a lot lately, and the answer is that I have not. I have been preoccupied with the usual money issues (lately I seem to be doing better at having cash for when bills come due, though it's always a struggle to have much left over), and I have some other stuff on my mind. So mostly I've been reading.

I might have mentioned Brighton Rock the last time I did an in-depth update, but I want to make special mention of another Graham Greene book, The Comedians. It's not funny, but it's not supposed to be (anything to do with Papa Doc-era Haiti rarely is). Also, I managed to get my hands on the Band biography Across the Great Divide, which was so available because it's been on the BAM shelves since before they moved to the mall...well before the move to the mall, actually.

Greil Marcus' Mystery Train I got through a service the local lib (yes the same ones who fired me) has with other libraries to send books they don't have to libs that have patrons who might want to read 'em. It's pretty good, too.

Also, can you believe Clemson is 4-0. I can't, my friends can't, my co-workers can't, the townfolk of the surrounding area can't, and yet there it is: 4-0. I got a bad feeling about Va. Tech, but who knows?

That is all I got for now, cringing a little about my 32 birthday coming up. Still don't have a date to the prom ;-)

Regrets, I've Had a Few

Short and sweet update, because I'm hungry and haven't eaten yet:

Anyone else find Hell's Kitchen addictive, but guilty about it? I know it's all for the cameras, it's all scripted, but there's very little else on right now that's half as compelling (fall season starts in a few weeks).

Scout is growing like a weed, I swear she'll be driving and texting before the year is over.

Mo money, mo problems (minus the "mo money," but I'm working on it).

Just submitted my column idea to McSweeneys for their consideration (annual column contest), fingers crossed.

Aight, until next time