Every day I wake up, look in the mirror and marvel at the gorgeous physical specimen staring back at me. I soak it all in and think about how lucky my wife is to have me. Then I shake off the remnants of that final pre-alarm dream and take another look at the disheveled guy with unruly red locks and badass Jedi boxers. That’s when I see the 40-year-old father of a 4-year-old daughter, a husband, and a friend to what seems to be an endless array of people. I am blessed with innumerable online "F3s" (friends, fans and followers) with whom I feel the need to connect in some way. I also feel hopelessly out of touch.
Posts filed under Soapbox
I'm torn. One side of me really understands why disenfranchised Americans coalesced under the banner of the Occupy movement. I’m proud of them for asking questions and exploiting the media to take advantage of the platform. I really am. The other shoe drops for me when I see nothing but the loudest, least eloquent protesters at center stage. Not to mention that the "movement" appears to be intolerant of discussion or even agreeing on its key desires. Where's the puritanical manifesto? - This intolerance of so many issues creates confusion, and doesn’t do the Occupy movement any favors.
In a shocking turn of events today it was admitted to me by my wife, in a format that I can prove and archive, that I was right! Let's take a look.
If I was in a cartoon right now, steam would be hissing out of my ears while they blast like the “quitting time” whistle at a quarry. Because before sitting down to write this, I had a heated discussion with a colleague about how a client "envisions" handling website transactions.