Annoyance Therapy

Memory device

Like many others who fancy themselves as Writers, I usually carry around a small pocket sized notepad for recording great thoughts, pithy observations, and random notes.  It is a great relief for aging memory banks to simply jot down a recommended book title, or a website URL.  ( The chief drawback with this device is that I often forget to read the notes that were so carefully recorded.  I have dozens of ragged notebooks full of unread scribblings)*

One section of the notebook is reserved for my list of annoyances. As you may have gathered,  I find that I am annoyed by nearly everything - weather, barking dogs,horns honking, wet mail, rap music, traffic, insects, soggy pizza, anyone with a smartphone, people in audiences, dreadlocks, commercials...  --the list is endless; I think you get the idea.

But, my genius is this: rather than letting annoying people and things drive me into grumpy irrelevance, I try to use annoyance as a creative force.  I recognize that annoyance is merely a mild form of anger.  Thus when something annoys me I do not let it control me. I do not shout and wave my arms.  I write a poem, post a blog entry, or regale the person behind me in the line at Starbucks with my latest cynical observation**.  By sharing these annoyances with others, I joyfully let them go.  They do not own me. I am free of their evil spell.

My audience often rewards me with reinforcing affirmations of legitimacy. Sure, there are those few humorless, self important, smiley-faced, lemonade-making optimists who regard my complaints as the feeble protestations of an aged goat. (Get over it, Dude. Stuff happens.)   I just add those people to my 'Annoying persons' list, where they are subjected to universal mockery and derision.

Some word usages that I think are annoying (Copied from Notepad notes):

Shocking - this word has become so over-used, especially in internet ads,  as to render it meaningless.  Apparently, the attention of a skimming reader is drawn to any sentence that has the word "shocking" in it.
The most absurd headline:  "Shocking facts about weight loss!" takes you to the URL of a company that sells pills that are guaranteed to help you shed hundreds of milligrams.

Grab - "Let me grab you something to drink,"  says my waitress.  Grab?  What happened to "Can I bring you something?"  Even Budweiser commercials have adopted the slogan "Grab some Buds."  Maybe it's just me but grab has a slightly larcenous connotation.

Momentarily - "The doctor will be with you momentarily." Gee you mean he will step into the room for a split-second and then disappear?  I know this one has been annoying pure English speakers for decades, but I still hear it often.


Ok that's enough for today.   There is risk of self-analysis morphing into mere self-absorption.  Especially on a cold day when you have no lunch plans.

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Notes:
 *Before I came upon the idea of the notebook I would jot  notes on napkins, odd bits of paper, 3X5 cards, envelopes, etc.  And I still have shoeboxes filled with the golden wisdom, hoarded in the basement.  I really must check them out someday and copy the good ones into a notebook.

** Three bucks for a cup of coffee --Really?

No Country Redux

You probably think that you are one of the two or three people who read this blog. But I have news for you bucko: there are at least four people who read it, not counting me.

I know this because I have received anecdotal evidence from one of the "regulars" that he was talking with a female friend who read my "No Country for Old Men " post of last week.

She thinks I should stick to writing about work issues and leave politics to the pundati. As I understand it, she is a supporter of John McCain's creaking campaign, and she wishes that I would just STFU about how old McCain is.

It makes me happy to imagine that someone would read my musings and actually be annoyed because they are worried that my pearls of wisdom and insight might actually change someones mind - or vote.

Someone should tell her that this wisdom is lost to most surfers, so she needen't become distressed that wandering bubbas might find truth via the Google search engine. I think Google tends to "find" Internet postings that have a lot of commercial appeal. This is a problem for me, since, like John McCain, I do not believe in pandering to special interests. I do not "sell" ad space to gain revenue. I know what you are thinking: No one would advertise on a site that only gets four clicks a week. Maybe so.

Exploring the Internets can be harrowing. We writers frequently attempt to back-up our opinions with actual facts. In the old days, I suppose writers actually went to the library and looked stuff up. Hah, what a waste of time! Nowadays, professional opinionators need go no further than their handy desk top search engine. All Truth is out there on the Internets. If there isn't a Wikipedia entry on something, it probably isn't worth knowing - or believing.

The other day, I tried to see if Google would find one of the blogs that I posted with "tags" I searched "McCain, No Country for Old Men" and when I did not find my blog in the top 200 listings, I lost interest. Instead, I found this obvious ripoff of my previous entry which, remember, was dated two days earlier:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/robert-scheer/no-country-for-old-men_b_99342.html

I would consider a plagiarism lawsuit against this Robert-sheer fellow, but that would involve talking to a lawyer. My daddy always said " Boy, don't never have no truck wit no lawyers. You gots to make you own justice." Well, sometimes justice is trumped by a desire to keep things simple. Besides, as my mother used to say, imitation is the highest form of compliment.

I know what you are thinking: The Sheer piece is so much better, well written and researched. Well, I think my mother would have said mine was better. Nah nah.

Speaking of Mothers, my wife tricked me into making breakfast this morning, suggesting that it was Mothers day. Hey, since I became an orphan, I don't pay any attention to the Hallmark Holidays. By the time I realized that it (Mothers Day) was actually next Sunday, my wily coyote bride of 40 years had already consumed the Land O Lakes Omega3 eggs, Banquet brown-and-serve sausages and buttered Arnold Oat Bran toast, and was sitting like a princess on the Sun-Shield screen porch quaffing her Starbucks Verona with that Mona Lisa smile on her face. (Maybe that will get me some Google hits).

editorial note: After pithy commentary on grammer and pronoun agreement by yet another faithful reader/commenter, I have re-written the earlier version. The comments have been removed to avoid confusion.