Posting your drama on Facebook

While I'm at it, here is a little piece of advice for social networking users:

Don't post your personal drama or air your laundry at Facebook.  Two reasons.  One, it's stupid, and more importantly, NOBODY CARES or wants to hear it.

There are several people on my friend's list that do this.  We don't have to read about every argument you have with your significant other.  We don't need to know that you got some action last night.  All you are doing by posting such nonsense is looking for attention that you are obviously craving and missing in your everyday life off the computer.

To a lesser extent, we don't want to see your ultrasound pictures either.  Is nothing sacred anymore?  Do ultrasound pics really need to be broadcast online for hundreds of people to see?  No.

Pretty soon my Facebook "Hear Less From ____" list is going to be longer than my friend's list.

Your job is a joke

As I do every Thursday morning, I just visited my hometown newspaper's online website.  One of the stories in this week's edition has the following headline:

"Social media expert to lead workshops Monday"

Are you kidding me?

How does one become a "social media expert?"  What schooling is required for such a prestigious career?

How do you get paid for teaching people how to use Facebook or Twitter?  Does it really take an expert to know how to create a group or page for your business on a social networking site?

The biggest joke of all is that Prince Edward County is flying this expert in from Tampa, no doubt on the tax payer's dime.  Oh, and the workshop costs over $100 for a day.  That is a lot of dough that can be saved by, oh, I don't know, just asking your teenage kid how to set up a Facebook account.

What a waste of time and money. 

Remembering G.N.

Eleven years ago today, I lost my grandfather George.  Everyone called him G.N. (George Nelson).  Well, I didn't, I called him Grandpa.

Eleven years ago.  Seems impossible it was that long ago.  He went into the hospital with heart and diabetes complications late in the summer of 1998.  He was a big baseball fan.  I remember wishing he could see what was going on with Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa that year, chasing the homerun record.

There aren't any days that go by that I don't think of him, but today and his birthday, November 29, are especially relevant.  It's on these days that I think about my Dad, my Grandma, my Aunt, my cousins, my sister, everyone that he touched.

He was the ideal Grandpa.  He taught me a lot, probably without knowing.  I like to think he's looking down on me and at least somewhat proud at the human I turned out to be.

The last time I saw him was in Kingston General Hospital, when he actually appeared to be on the rebound.  There were a handful of relatives in the room and he was coherent and "with it".  He was being G.N.  I broke down and sobbed.  The last thing he ever told me was that I had guts for not being afraid to cry in front of all the people that were in that room.  I like to think he was right.

Something you may not know about me

I am a big admirer of Vincent van Gogh.  To some, it will explain the name of my blog.

It isn't just because his work was incredible.  It's also because he was misunderstood for a great part of his life, and in that aspect I always thought we had a lot in common.  He always strived to impress those close to him and was a perfectionist in every sense of the word.  His own hardest critic.  A lot of parallels can be made between a guy like van Gogh, myself, and I'm sure a lot of you.

Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of things that separate van Gogh from myself.  He was completely bat-shit crazy, really.  He loved hookers.  He took hookers under his wing and tried to make a better life for them and their bastard children.  He cut his ear off.  He tried to kill himself.  He finally did kill himself.

All his life, he yearned for acceptance from those closest to him, all while battling a plethora of mental deficiencies.  Nobody appreciated him until after he was gone.

One of the best books I've ever read, and one I'll read time and time again is "The Letters of Vincent van Gogh", a selection of abridged letters he wrote himself, the majority to his brother Theo.

I guess my point of this post is just to proclaim my admiration for the guy.  Like I said, we can all relate to him in some way.  He isn't the first and won't be the last misunderstood genius.

My two favourite van Gogh works:

Cafe Terrace at Night

The Starry Night

A movie idea. Who knows how to write a screenplay?

How is there not a major motion picture about the War of 1812?  Actually, I suppose that is easily answered.  The Americans didn't exactly win that skirmish.  If they had, I'm sure there would be no shortage of films on the subject.

Regardless, there should be.  Think of the characters that could be brought to life.  On the American side you have William Henry Harrison, William Hull, Henry Clay, James Madison, Henry Dearborn, and Andrew Jackson.  While North of the Great Lakes, there was Isaac Brock, Tecumseh, George Prevost, and Laura Secord.

The possibilities could be endless.  While the war may be long forgotten (especially on the American side), there are so many amazing stories, conflicts, and characters enshrined within it's history, I think that eventually it needs to be told on the big screen.

I have things to say

I know, I know.  Another blog.  How original.  The last thing you and I both need is another procrastination tool. 

Fact of the matter is, I have a lot to say, about a lot of things.

I don't even know if anyone will ever read anything that gets posted here.  I don't care.  The fact that I'm typing my opinions and expressions out is therapeutic enough for me to justify doing it.

Things I have opinions on include, but are not limited to: politics (both Canadian and American), pop culture (vomit), society (vomit), entertainment, sports, and so on.

Anyways, that is my introduction.  I phoned it in, big time.