Lifestyles of the Rapidly Aging

So, let's talk about rock and roll. I've been trying to get more "hip."  More "with it."  I used the word "amazeballs" yesterday for the first time ever, and was immediately told by @wooferdog that it was "So 2012."  Now, what warrants mention here is the irony of the situation:

1) I thought I was using a "fresh" term to refer to something that warranted an interjection of joy.
2) I am a dog.  We love balls.  Just ask Sarah Silverman.
3) @wooferdog's favorite color may, in fact, be beige.

So, I've got a problem.  I'm not fresh.  I'm not hip.  I'm not "with it."  In fact, so much so, that much like having the term used in a Geico commercial, I may have just added one more nail to the shark-jumping pop-culture death-box that holds the corpse of the once-vibrant "amazeballs."

So, I would like to put out there the idea that there should be a show out there called "America's Next Hot Amazeballs" which allows people to put out there new candidates for "Fetch" and the like that allow new terms to be:

1) Vetted
2) Used in situations where something warrants insertion into our lexicon
3) Defined so that for those of us who no longer have our fingers on the pulse of American popular culture may grasp them.

Think of it as an "Urban Dictionary," on TV.  Or a version of NPR's "My Word" where people are asked to explain current terms. The winning term can be crowned as dominant for that moment, and then at the end, the coiner can have a pat on the back, and we can all celebrate our ever-changing language, as a culture, by agreeing never to use that word ever again.

It's Been 5 Years Since My Last Confession...

I thought I'd write here again.  It's been a very long time since I've written much of anything.  Some social media has changed - I went from hating Twitter, to embracing Twitter, to being mortally addicted to Twitter, to basing my self-worth off of how many people I could get to say "Ball!" when I tweeted "Ball?", to not really following the damned thing much any more.  I don't know whether that means I didn't really learn a whole lot in the process, or that I was unable to change in the end, or that I got picked up by the scruff of my neck by Better Judgement or one of his kin - the bottom line is that I'm posting here now.  I have no idea if the habit will stick, or if I'll stop writing, or if I'll just create some crazy locked posts that I'll only show to my inner circle (at this point, I think that's the dog).

It's nice to be writing again.  I'll be starting classes at Auburn here the middle of next month, and it's nice to write something down.  In reading my previous entries - those both public and not - it's interesting to read what I was feeling at the time, and somewhat comforting to know what problems got solved, and which didn't.

In college, I had the opportunity to have dinner with Cheryl Crow (If you've heard this one before, please refrain from actively groaning).  The president of the college's house was right next to mine, and his wife used to walk past the house whenever she'd go to the main campus.  Being the cool lady that she is, she would play soccer with my dog, Dieter, and I when she passed, and we became friends.  One of the nice things to come of this friendship was that dinner.  I don't remember a whole ton of the evening; being in the room was kind of a blur.  I was on my best behavior - don't fawn over the celebrity, make sure to show up exactly on time, no requests for pictures, autographs, memorability, don't do anything stupid.  One of the things I did get to do was to talk to her for a bit about what she enjoyed doing as she moved around the country; people who have inherently nomadic lifestyles (rock stars, truckers, high-powered executives) have always amazed me, as not having any roots can kind of get to you, regardless of how successful you are.  One of the things she told me about what she did to remain grounded was to write.  She told me that your brain gets better at everything you ever practice, so she wrote every single day.

And I've never forgotten that.