The Featured Post Blog

A collection of the featured posts as they appeared on mo'time

by: hawkeye

I used to imagine I'd be something special-- but I'm not. I used to imagine I was meant to do great things, save the world, or at least my little corner of it-- but I'm not. I've come to learn the hard way that I'm just an ordinary person doing ordinary things... and that's okay. Some of my old friends and readers here have asked what I've been up to ever since I moved in late January. Where am I? Rural Southeastern Ohio. What am I doing? Simply enjoying life. How and Why? Because I had a car, I wanted to, and it was the right time.

I used to try to play superhero at a desk, pushing keys on a keyboard, crunching numbers in hopes that someday it would somehow make a real difference in the long run. The only problem with that life was I always hated being at a desk, I was developing carpal tunnel syndrome, and I always hated math.
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posted by: howard at 09:53 | link | comments |

by: Hoon

6 days in siam

Day 1
3 p.m. ----  Refillable wine and choice of liquor aboard Thai Airways. Seems primary goal of flight attendants is to get passengers drunk. Not complaining. Food is scrumptious with my white wine. Three hours to Bangkok. Giddily copy down critical Thai phrases from in-flight magazine, Sawasdee, to my notebook while stewardess refills my glass.
 
Paeng maag – Very expensive!
Hong nam yoo tee nai – Where is the restroom?
 
Cannot find Thai translation to “Yes, I would like to live in your beach house and eat sweet mangustin all day for free”, so decide to fend off invitations from fabulously wealthy Thai men who cannot speak English for now. Should any come, I mean.
 
6 p.m. --- Bangkok airport looks and feels bigger than all our runways put together. Meet fellow media folk and attendees to Travel Mart. Affect air of bored nonchalance to blend in. Fail. Whip out camera and begin clicking at anything that moved.
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posted by: howard at 11:45 | link | comments |

by:

Sitcom Neighbors, Sound Off!

There are six people living in my building other than me. I announced the roaches problem, and an exterminator was promptly called. The resulting email chain came about.

From: The Most Esteemed Lord Of The Manor
To: Residents
the bug killing guy is coming btwn 8 and noon tomorrow. as is the dryer repair guy. i will be home. however, the bug guy will need to get into your rooms, so if you are a sleepin i apologize, but this will rid of these ants and roaches (where tf did the roaches come from????)

From: Male Resident Alpha
To: Residents
The cats keep em outta plain sight. No cats the in the garden apt meant they came out to play, and mate, and throw killer beach parties. Basically we need at least twice as many cats, with cans of raid velcroed to their backs and a taste for violence. It'd be preferable if said cat's parent's had been murdered by roaches.
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posted by: howard at 10:20 | link | comments |

by: mictlantecuhtli

I am alive.

Sorry I'm late.

Rereading my own old posts, it hurts a little. It's pleasant, in some ways, but I've always been powerfully vulnerable to nostalgias for imagined pasts. It reminds me that I used to be made of bone before I was made of smoke.

I'm somebody else now. Smoke and mirrors. I don't talk like I used to. I don't know what to say to you. I'm not sure I know who you are, or if I ever did.

I live somewhere else, not too far away from where I used to live. It's possible I may move again. I look different. I cut my hair short when I lost one woman, and then grew it out again to make love to another. It's just about long enough to tie back now.

She was different. She had hair like mine, and eyes unlike mine, and she liked to bite. It didn't work out, either.

I grew a beard. I wear glasses now. I've learned that I believe in some things less than I thought that I did. I've discovered that, when push comes to shove, the things that I do are a little different from what I might have thought.
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posted by: howard at 19:16 | link | comments |

by: AmericanGirl

You can imagine my annoyance when I got an email from my brother, with a link to the NYC Half Marathon, and a note saying "I signed you up."  Oh, and "You have to raise $1,500."  I sent him back a few choice words, and a suggestion that certainly it was not legal for him to forge my name on a legal agreement, and he of all people should know this.  Then he called, and I grumbled about it some more.  We both decided I was a bitch, and now here I am, training for a half marathon.

I got some new running shoes and woke up early last weekend to start breaking them in.  By the time I got to the end of the second block, I was tired.  My laces were too tight.  But I kept going.  It was windy and cold and unpleasant.  I'm tired of the rain.

I ran past the square in the sidewalk  that some silly homeowner left unsupervised except for a  "Wet Cement" sign, even though his home was right along the main road that takes all the kids to and from school.  That was about 25 years ago, and still, clear  as day, you can read "Pierre The Great" in one corner.  Pierre sat next to me in fifth grade.  I used to let him copy my spelling test for a piece of Bazooka bubble gum.  He was the only Pierre in our whole school, and quite possibly the whole town.  I remember he got called to the principal's office for that.   His mom taught CCD out of her house, and she always gave us Nutter Butters at the end.  She was awesome.

I ran through the school yard and thought about the morning that I was there early, and the janitor was on the roof.  He threw down to me all of the tennis balls that were up there, and it was like I'd won the lottery.  I think I had five tennis balls.  Everyone in my class was so impressed.  I gave one to Pierre.  So I'm thinking, and my lungs are totally burning at this point, that's all it took?   Happiness and joy and excitement used to come so easily.  Now I squelch them all down with a little brown bottle of pills.
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posted by: howard at 12:56 | link | comments (1) |

by: greeneyes

We hear about it, say "Wow, that's horrible," pause for a brief moment, and continue on.  "So what are your plans for the weekend?"

I think it's a defense mechanism.  Some sort of innate survival technique...not necessarily something our ancestors thousands of years ago needed, but something we've developed over the last couple hundred years as a way to make it through the day, and the night, and into the next day.  Because if we don't have that mechanism, if we don't deal with it the way we have been dealing with it, I have a hard time envisioning a humanity that could survive.  And if humanity did survive, what sort of humanity would it be?  I can't help but think it would be one I would not necessarily want to be a part of.

As I started my drive home from work this afternoon, I turned the radio to NPR, as I often do.  Yesterday I learned about a 6-week course for members of the military who want to become (almost) forensic anthropologists to identify causes of death and body parts of those killed overseas.  A while back I heard an interview with an author who said that depression is a natural state of mind, and prescribing so many anti-depressants is actually doing a disservice to everybody because so much good can come from depressed minds, not to mention the fact that you can't fully appreciate the good times without suffering through the bad times (this is hugely oversimplified, but the author has an excellent point).

Today it was about the earthquake in China.
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posted by: howard at 14:58 | link | comments (1) |

by: rustymadgal (again, but this time as a private citizen)

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! I pulled it off somehow. Could be the Mo'jinx, you know how when you mention something in your blog or in the many behind the scenes Momails or chats and it happens in real life?

There I was yesterday posting and wallowing in the Trailer Parks biggest pity party about my inability for the first time ever to get a job and all the shit the man makes you go through just to apply for the privilege of being turned down.

This morning started out no differently. Got up, hiked with Cavedog and emailed a few evil HRs for jobs I had applied for and heard nothing from. At this point I have nothing to lose so I wrote one HR that I saw the position frequently in the classifieds and promised not to be worse than any of the past people he had hired.

I also applied for a few more jobs online like they wanted and took the most insane personality test ever. Those questions can usually try to be tricky and sometimes the choices they give for answers dont fit but one test section made me pick between two choices.

I would rather

have marshmallow fluff stuffed in my ears or w$#k with someone sloppy and lazy

smell something awful or have one task to accomplish all day

be probed by aliens or fall down the stairs

I have no idea what they wanted, maybe that was the drug test.

After that the dark clouds blew in and we had our first rain in over two months. I drove around in my crappy economy car with the dried out wipers smearing pine sap all over the windshield picking up more and more applications.
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posted by: howard at 12:31 | link | comments |

by: rustymadgal

You're invited to a Mo'time Reunion!

Howard has tirelessly burned the midnight pixels emailing our Mo'time friends from long ago.

"Hey. Once upon a time you had blog on Mo'time. Remember? Well it's still there and it's only missing one thing - YOU! I am sending you this email because at least one Mo'timer, plus me, has been wondering what you've been up to! This is not one of those just-another-social-network trying to bother you kinda things. This actually a personal letter, a plea, sent simply because we miss you.

We're planning a Mo'time reunion for the month of April. Starting April 1st, surf on by to www.motime.com and dust off your blog. See what your old friends are up to! "One Mo'time", write a post and catch us up on what's new in your world -- no obligation or expectation to stay, of course, but a little update would be rather cool."
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posted by: howard at 18:25 | link | comments |

by: CarolenChina

I was sitting in McDonald's having breakfast watching people. My favorite past time, watching people. I noticed a little lady that had to be fresh from a village. How do I know, well, her dress for one. She had the tell tale red cheeks that had been close to blistering in the cold... but they didnt, no sore scars. Her clothes while clean and neat were not the days fashion. Her hands were rough and calloused. But the thing that stood out, the most...she felt out of place. She was clearly uncomfortable standing waiting for what I think was her daughter. She probably wanted to go down to the noodle shop and have mian.. but the little girl wanted to go to McDonalds and there they were. The village lady wasnt sure what to do with the fork or the pancakes that was set in front of her. I wanted to take her by the hand and go to the noodle shop...but I would have probably scared her, most likely she has seen few foreigners. So I just watched her instead. She wanted to go back to the village, it was written all over her.

I watched an old man getting his fortune told by a street seer. He was bent over and listening to every word the fortune teller was saying. His body was in a permanent lean....He had his hand cupping his chin as though  he was deep in thought, trying to put the pieces of info together. He was so deep into his listening the outside world didnt exist. I hope that his days will be filled with all that is good....however, I am not the fortune teller. I noticed lately, that the street fortune tellers are very busy...new year and all that.
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posted by: howard at 22:09 | link | comments |

by: Yoshick

Things That Ought To Seem Obvious, But Were Not At The Time

1.) If you keep making accidental eye contact in the bar with the barely legal dread-locked, pierced, pale-as-a-corpse, unwashed guy, while knocking back a bourbon that has 20% more alcohol in it by volume than other bourbons until last call swings around while continuing to make accidental eye contact because hey, he's in your line of sight, what were you supposed to do, it should be clear well before the moment that he attempts to do so, that he will follow you home and try to stay there. And while the phrase oh shit, it's him said rather loudly upon seeing him in the living room is normally enough to convince any other would-be suitor that you have no intention of even sitting next to him, much less sleeping underneath him, considering how one might get herself into such a situation, it should not have been surprising that he required much more than that in order to understand that he was not wanted. Damn you, Philadelphia.

2.) When you hear the phrase "You can drink anything that costs less than $300 dollars. I think that's only seven bottles between the three of us but we should be fine with that, right?" is not a bad way to end an evening, but it's a really bad way to start an evening. Also bad to hear? "Wow, did we drink all seven? No? There's the seventh! Thank God. I need another drink." Damn you, bubbly.

3.) Despite the fact that I have an impressive amount of upper body strength, no one who weighs more than forty pounds should run across a hallway and attempt to jump into my arms. Especially not when the person running towards me is five inches taller than I am, and heavier, as her height might suggest.
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posted by: howard at 15:33 | link | comments (2) |