Ill-Advised, Very Costly, and Probably Not a Good Idea

It's been three years and I just remembered that I have a blog. To follow up my “Unwarranted, Unwanted, and Unsolicited” first blog post, I've decided to write about an “Ill-Advised, Very Costly and Probably Not-Good Idea” for my second post. If there’s a trend in these headlines, clearly it’s that I always make the sensible choice. My topic today will be exactly that— how the unwarranted and ill-advised can often be the most practical decision. But first, let's stop and smell the roses. As my favorite optimist Schopenhauer might say, each day is a little life, each waking and rising a little birth, and each three years between blog posts a paragraph to be blogged. So what’s been up, Mike G?

Well, since last I blogged I’ve worked at a production company and two TV shows. I answered phones, wrote emails, and ran around fetching stuff. To avoid the mundane and skip to the point, a headline for these years might be “Long Hours, Low Wages, and Free Lunch.” The best analogy I could offer, and certainly the favorite and most frequent in my journals, was Hollywood is a lot like the Renaissance court system— a series of dukedoms where ambitious courtiers orbit noblemen, vie for their favor, and hope for a comfortable sinecure before power shifts. The monarchs keep you well-fed and greetings go something like the old Pope epigram, “I’m his Highness’s dog at Kew. Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?”

My commission at court was fun, but long hours in fluorescently-lit offices made it clear I wasn’t captaining my own days. I was worried, to paraphrase Stafford, that following the wrong god home, I might miss my star. So I squirreled away my salary, tupper-wared my free lunches, and saved an adequate lump of savings to throw at the ill-advised idea of my choosing; in this case, buying several Amazon shipments of expensive, highly technical film equipment I didn’t know how to operate. I’ve tetrised it into my Camry’s trunk (yes, dear readers, my Volvo of old no longer is), and am driving around filming poets. I won’t describe the project anymore and simply say, ‘Curious? Watch my videos.’ I’ll link the first below. It’s been fun so far. I’m not as well-fed as I was in court, and unattached to a duke or title, now my greetings go something like the Dickinson line, “I’m nobody. Who are you?” 

The past adequately blogged, we can now “bloggum en praesens” and discuss the important matters this blog’s one-time readers have come to expect. Because a good headline is everything (and what blogger wouldn’t aspire to become “click-bait” for posterity) I’ll phrase today’s topic as “The Practicality in Being Impractical”, which I’ll explain by way of “a door”. I’ll admit, dear readers, I’m not sure how this door analogy will turn out. It enjoyed no test-run in my journals like the Renaissance Court analogy. A vaulting blogger juggling untested metaphors is a dangerous thing, but in the words of constant mentor Mac Dre, “Don’t be no punk young homie, if it’s worth it take that risk.”

My general feeling is that most people in most places find their way to practical situations: some are nagged to do it, some overhear, others get a pamphlet in college, but the majority naturally pick up the scent and follow. In the end, a long line forms at that handsomely engraved door labeled “The Practical Thing”, and the resulting bottleneck is difficult and sweaty to navigate. You can push and push but everyone is pushing. If you decide to push harder, you’re not the first with the idea. And if you take a running start to blitz your way through, well, there too you are only one of many. The easiest option is to merge with the masses and let inertia carry you. With a well-timed push here and there you can gain an unexpected inch, but for the most part you’ll shuffle in sync with the crowd. My point is that the greater the competition, the more marginal the gains— at the most crowded doors, mere inches. And I’d like to suggest that competing more for less is, in this blogger’s opinion, illogical. By virtue of its unpopularity, the impractical starts looking pretty practical. The competition is slim and the gains potentially enormous. There isn’t the comfort of crowds to reassure your direction, but you can move at your own stride. Thus concludes the world premiere of my door analogy, which admittedly bled into images of "lines" and "crowds" as well, but refusing to look back on metaphors already blogged, I blog ever onwards.   

I’d like to end with an eye toward the future as I believe every blog worth its word count should. I don’t know what the future holds, and more germane to you, my dear reader, I don’t know what the future holds for this blog but I suspect it will be more of the same. Whatever is unnecessary, ill-advised and otherwise a bad idea— you can expect that here. On that note, I’d like to make some acknowledgements, a practice I propose more blogs follow. I’d like to thank the Internet for the opportunity to blog, my various life advisors for the colorful quotes they’ve provided this blog, and to my imagined "dear readers" for the convenient asides they allow me to write in the middle of thoughts. And finally, to any actual reader who's read this far, thank you too. 

Pasadena
May 2018

A Mission Statement of Not Being Wanted or Asked For

I do not know if there is a tradition of inaugurating blogs with a mission statement, but regardless of whether there is, I will risk being unfashionable and boldly begin the tradition here. In a few paragraphs I’ll dip into why I’m writing, what I’m writing about, the advantage of pessimism, and how the California drought will affect my blog.  

First and foremost, I hope that this blog will keep me in the practice of writing. I like to write, but foresee too many possible futures where I do not write. Secondly, I aim for self-improvement through discipline. I have many 'unexpressed thoughts’ that seem to make sense, but when required to express them, I suddenly discover them very disappointing—some shriveled prune of the fruit I imagined growing in my head. Without being forced to articulate oneself, thoughts fester and fade. It is a difficult and worthwhile endeavor to sit down with a vague thought, figure out exactly what one means, and then labor it into precise words that actually signify things. Here, I will practice this skill, and hopefully not allow my thoughts to fester unexpressed. And finally, I am starting a blog because it is a hobby. Hobbies, I am coming to understand, are a healthy thing. Between the dispositions of ‘wastoid’ and ‘contributing member of society’ are hobbies. I hope to never become a ‘wastoid’ but see signs that I might be inclined to do so, as evidenced by the Summer of 2011, a certain Andre Nickatina concert I attended and then ‘de-attended’, episodes of my sophomore year of college, and my mindset upon waking up every morning of every day.

So, in the non-existent tradition of inaugural blog posts, I will now hint at the humble character behind this blog. What’s my name? Any literate TSA officer could read it off my passport: Mike Gioia. Though the passport actually reads Michael Frederick Gioia, and also finds it necessary to disclose my age, weight, height, birthplace, and eye color, which will most likely not be discussed in this blog. Is it a handsome face on the passport? This I cannot comment on. I see it all too often staring back at me from miscellaneous bathroom mirrors and shop windows to care for it. If anything, when I see it there is a vague sense of disappointment accompanied by the thought ‘is this the person who’s been masquerading around as me for the last three hours’?

Now, continuing in the non-existent tradition of inaugural blog posts, I will now outline my territory, that is to say, the topics one can expect to find in this exciting, new blog. Expect brief posts on books, movies & television, bay area rap, and possibly, the cities I’ve lived. I don’t presume my thoughts are interesting to anyone, but I figure I can contribute to the ‘wealth of knowledge’ on the Internet. I take for granted that anything I want to know will be on the Internet. However, quite often I’ll Google a book or movie or place and find scant information on it. So I figure I can fill in some of the web’s holes. Now someone Googling La Bonne Table or Dan Duryea or Celly Cel’s first album or Frank the Homeless Guy on Emerson Street will find one more option for information on them. I will try to post on things that are non-existent on the Internet space. Slowly I will help translate the real world into information on the web. The Internet only works because of people posting when no one asked them to, right? Well, consider me part of this brotherhood of the unwarranted and unsolicited.  

One of the few blogging traditions that I am aware of is blogging about mundane events in one’s life. Expect this idea taken to the very extreme here. Expect reviews of glasses of water I've drunk, the cup's shape, its temperature (the cold ones let you leave fingerprints), and maybe even details about the water inside. Now if you're the type who wonders about ice, well I am sorry to say you will be disappointed by this blog. I will not be concerning myself with ice in any way or form in this blog. But I suppose water is a liquid form of ice, so perhaps in a very intellectual and philosophical way I will be talking about ice. But I won't be formally addressing the topic of ice. Nor will I be giving much thought to whether there is a coaster between the glass and the table. And if you're the very queer sort who wonders about the table, well I am sorry, for here is one more reason why this blog may not be for you. 

However, because of the drought California is experiencing, I am nobly forgoing my plan of blogging about glasses of water for the moment. Such a topic would be a drain on my state’s water tables, and would surely, due to my vivid writing, drive many people to drinking a glass themselves. This is a great and lamentable shame, as I assure you, no one so vividly evokes the experience of a glass of water as I do, but it is absolutely necessary sacrifice we all must endure for the welfare of our nation’s greatest state. So what else shouldn’t you expect? Certainly, do not expect any more inaugural mission statement blog posts, as this, despite it’s high excitement and definite allurement, is the only inaugural mission statement post you will be seeing. Printing and posting it to your refrigerator is both recommended and commended.

Now it has been claimed that I am a ‘cynical person’, and that one can only expect ‘criticisms’ and ‘problems with things’ from me. However, I have a problem with this definition of me. I will concede that the following are true: I have a lower than average opinion of most people, events, and things; I have lower than average expectations when someone says so-and-so or such-and-such 'is so absolutely great'; and I think people are vain, weak, susceptible, and more inclined to fault than good. I include myself here too. But I firmly believe that this cynicism is, in an odd way, the more optimistic take on life. Because I hold these convictions on people’s overall lousiness, I go into life constantly reminded I need to meet the world with patience, tolerance, sympathy and charity. This is what every one of us absolutely needs, and therefore what we are obliged to give. I know I would be nowhere if people hadn’t afforded me these necessary courtesies. Though this belief’s root is pessimism, I believe it is generally a good way to see the world. Approaching life with this understanding of things, I am all the more often touched and surprised by the world because of it. So, expect this special branch of optimism here—the school of low expectations.

And so, in bravely pioneering the grand tradition of inaugural blog posts, I have declared my blog’s mission, touched on topics I will be discussing, explained how the drought will be regrettably impoverishing my total realm of topics, and outlined my basic philosophy on life for you (This will be a fun blog, won’t it?). Whether you want it or not, expect to see more.

Pasadena                                                                                                                   

July 2015