A personal note about going off grid

May 27, 2010


Some people soak in the attention that comes with a Last Day of Work. I, however, sort of bristle at it.

And, for real, this might come as a surprise considering my habit of documenting every personal thought I’ve had for the past five years, but, hey, give me this. This is my thing. It’s not that I hate goodbyes – I just hate the attention that comes with them.

So let’s keep this short and sweet. Today was my last day of work at HenkinSchultz, a job that treated me well and taught me a lot and really I couldn’t have asked for a better place to break into the creative services world. And, in ten days, I begin again, doing what I’d hoped I’d be doing, workin’ the Web and enjoying being a full fledged part of making things on the Internet, at Blend Interactive.

In the meantime – an expanse of time in which I will literally be unemployed – I’m going to make myself scarce. As of tonight, I’m going off the grid. I’m recharging and resting and cleaning out the cobwebs as I prepare to change my direction entirely.

Thanks to HenkinSchultz for taking a risk four years ago. I appreciate it.

See you in 10 days, Internet.

Tags: Career, Meta, Vilhauer |

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Haters. They gonna hate.

April 27, 2010


If I was in a different place, I’d probably apologize for myself. For everything I’ve ever said. And everything I’ll ever say.

At times, I’m kind of negative. I’m sorry for that. Don’t take it personally. Don’t allow your publication to take it personally. Don’t allow your candidate, or your beliefs, or whatever it is I’ve somehow slighted to take it personally.

See, we’re all part of a vast network of communication. Me. You. All of us. We connect through words and sometimes those words aren’t what you want to hear but I’ve gotten to a point in my life where I feel voicing my opinions and airing my quirks outweigh the silence I once mistook for politeness.

With that freedom, I may have become a little negative.

But that’s only a perception.

Because it’s allowed me to be positive, too. And it’s given that positivity a more genuine stature.

There’s a fragile ecosystem of delicate egos in the creative world – an ecosystem that I freely claim a part of – that frantically searches for reassurance and kudos and can’t live without constant adoration. You guys, I get it. I’m there. Everyone who’s ever put out a small slice of creativity has been there. Unless we’re wasted on old man whiskey, we create both for the reaction and for the art.

In fact, that reaction is the central driving force of art.

If I criticize your work, I’m not criticizing you as a person. If I don’t follow you back on Twitter, or ignore your Facebook friend requests, it’s not because I hate you. If I don’t say anything at all, it’s not because I wasn’t paying attention. We’re all adults here. We’re all having a conversation, even when we’re not saying a thing.

It just feels like, sometimes, if the conversation begins with critique, it will certainly end with the offended party cowering; hiding under the covers.

If something you do isn’t up to par, I’ll tell you. Don’t take it personally. Just know that I have high standards. Standards that I, myself, couldn’t probably even live up to.

And if something you do is mindblowingly awesome – like, tell all of my friends and yell it from the rooftops awesome – then know that whatever it is, it really caused a reaction with me.

For what that’s worth, I suppose.

Looking over this, I understand that I’m probably trying to convince myself of these things. But remember: we release our creativity so others can view and respond. And it’s that act of release that frees us complaint.

We’re opening ourselves for the world, you know. And haters? They always gonna hate.

It’s the ones that do nothing BUT that you’ve got to watch for.

Tags: Annoyances, Meta, On..., Writing |

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LiveJournal Entry: 1.06.10

January 6, 2010


Hold on. An aside.

So, basically, there’s this neurosis that drives through my brain every few days that forces me to wonder where my adoring fan base is. Why aren’t people paying attention. Why should I be shackled to the bedframe of insecurity and forced into submission, my frantic tears soaking into the cracks between the floorboards, my ego completely withered and now resembling a wasabi pea I found under the seat in my car just the other day. A neurosis that says, “talent is audience, and without audience you have no talent, and so maybe I should create a tumblr account to further cement my fractured attention span.”

When I’m in this stage, I make plans. Just like you do, when you’re in this stage.

And if you say you’ve never reached this stage – the “Oh My God I’m A Hack And Is Everything I’m Doing Even Worth It” stage, where, yes, you understand that life is more than your craft and your kids are great and you’re happy but still wouldn’t it be great to be noticed as some kind of forward thinking whatever whatever – you’re lying.

Sometimes the plans are simple. I should (finally) get around to redesigning the blog. I should (finally) post my 100 songs of the decade list. I should shunt a hobby or two. I should turn my computer off, drink a beer and watch TV.

Sometimes the plans are hard. I should stop worrying about being the driest person on Twitter, because, let’s face it, I’m far over-matched and that dude @fireland has it all wrapped up. I should aspire to be less Merlin Mann, and more Corey Vilhauer. I should aspire to be less ANYONE, and more ME.

I should aspire to be found on my own, instead of screaming into the abyss.

I know, right? What, did you accidentally StumbleUpon some 13-year-old’s LiveJournal page?

That’s the point. See, my next plan is going to be the hardest. It’s called, “Just write, you moron, and leave the woe-is-me bullshit for those cat blogs.”

What makes it hard: I like talking about that stuff. So, you know, bear with me while I turn my attentions to stuff with a little more weight. And thanks for sticking around so far.

Tags: Blogging, Meta, Vilhauer, Writing |

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Merry Christmas, etc.!

December 25, 2009


The Vilhauers

Merry Christmas and all of that stuff!
From all of us at Black Marks on Wood Pulp and Much More Sure.

(Special thanks to Craig for the picture, yo.)

Tags: Meta, Much More Sure, Vilhauer |

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Radio Shack sucks. But sometimes, so do the commenters.

December 18, 2009


Listen. I get it. There are a lot of people who work for Radio Shack that don’t enjoy working for Radio Shack.

But why me?

It’s not like I set out to be a sounding board for the teeming, unsatisfied masses that Radio Shack seems to hire. It’s not like I opened up WordPress and began piling on in hopes I’d become the center of disgruntled employees, my site the sun to their swirling planets of retail woe.

But, that’s what happened. All because I said, “Radio Shack Sucks.”

I’m not sure many commenters have even read the posts. My situation was solved. It was remedied. I figured everything out and, despite my anger at the time and my fist shaking and yelling and threats of boycott, I still buy my cheap wire and television antennas at Radio Shack. I never called for an army of employees to rise up and slay the monster.

Which makes a bigger point. This was never about the employees. This was customer versus a system. Individual versus corporation. David, Goliath, etc.

Not anymore. Now, it’s a symposium of part-time commissioned hell.

Let’s be honest. It brings a lot of traffic. It’s my most popular post (which goes a long way in proving a search engine’s ability to separate good from bad). But that doesn’t mean I’m thrilled every time Keith from Store 543 in Pasadena or Jules from some suburb of Boston stops by to drop another paragraph of poorly worded angst, like Black Marks on Wood Pulp was the Domesday Book of shitty jobs.

In fact, when Keith or Jules stop by and leave yet another un-punctuated mess in the comments of a post, I realize that to a small subset of people, that post defines what my site is – and, therefore, what my writing style and personality are. All I can do is shake my head. Saddened that this is what I’ve brought upon the Web. After so long, I’m simply too tired to respond.

What’s more, I’m unwilling to delete the comments, because sometimes it’s one of the few real things that people leave behind.

Tags: Meta, Technology, Vilhauer, Writers |

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BMOWP by request

October 30, 2009


I hadn’t written in almost a week. I was busy. And I wasn’t inspired. And life is sooo hard, wah wah wah.

(Blah blah blah, shut up you stupid whiny writer-guy.)

So I opened my big mouth on Twitter. (And, therefore, Facebook.)

“I need seven random ideas. I will be writing a blog post on each one for the week, starting tomorrow. I may or may not stay on topic, though”

And then:

“Not just ideas. Anything. A bowl of soup. Your mom’s middle name. The War of 1812. None of them will end up being about the subject, prob.”

The response: good enough to force me into keeping my word.

I took on the first seven subjects that came to me. It didn’t matter what they were. Then, Friend of BMOWP Abi Jones gave me an additional prompt that I simply couldn’t pass up, so it was bumped up to eight.

This is often called “using your readership for attention.” In my world, it’s called, “opening your big fat mouth and discovering you have to not only write about Hume’s Fork, but also figure out what the hell it is.”

That being said, look for original prompts on the bottom of posts over the next week. I won’t go back on my word. And I won’t stop, despite how stupid I look when talking about neanderthal sex.

Or, maybe I won’t talk about it at all.

Because, seriously – these are prompts. And I’m going to take them and run like hell toward someplace I can comfortably digest.

Welcome to Black Marks on Wood Pulp: By Request.

Tags: BMOWP: By Request, Meta, On..., Writing |

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Gone fishing

September 2, 2009


Very few of us perform our work – or even our hobbies – in a vacuum.

I don’t write, or take pictures, or do whatever it is, simply for my own enjoyment. Though that is the main reason, I also do it because I have pride in the work I do, and because I hope that others will find value in it.

Such is the case with most creative fields. We spent hours at our craft not just to have a finished product we’re proud of, but also to have a finished product that others are proud of.

The problem is that I’ll never accurately know the impact that finished product has. (At least, not without blatantly fishing for compliments.)

Chances are, we all care about our standing on the Web, or at work, or in whatever arena we fill. Yet, there’s no way to effectively gauge our impact – readership, influence, whatever – without making a plea for loyalty. I’ll never know until I can get a roll call, and even then it’s not likely.

It’s a Catch-22. I’d love to know if some of the people I follow – whose stuff I’m inspired by, local or national – follow me back. But I can’t let anyone know about it, because those same people are confident enough not to fish for confirmation.

It sounds pathetic to wander up to people you respect and ask, “DO YOU LIKE ME?” Even more so when you understand that they’re stuck – either answer yes, regardless of feelings, or stay silent in a perceived admission of distaste.

Tags: Career, Meta, Photography, Writing |

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