I looked back at my output here over the last little while and realize it’s shit. And not in the shitpost fun way; actual shit. One-liners, reblogs with lame jokes, selfies. The only thing that tempers my shame is the fear that my brain is succumbing to entropy. It’s understood that cognitive function declines as we age. I search for words. I can’t concentrate. The spark of randomness that is the root of creativity is dulled or absent. And I wonder, is this the beginning of the end? Or, worse, did I peak 10, 15 years ago and this is the middle of the end? What next? Where did the smart go? Can I still move the needle?
I have another conversation with a head hunter today. There’s been an uptick in interest in me recently, though I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s just seasonal, or a cosmic ray struck a database at LinkedIn. But I worry there, too, about these conversations with recruiters or employers. Am I still sharp enough? Relevant? A 50-year-old nerd with crusting-over skills needs to be especially charming and glib to get the kind of gig I want. I wonder if that ship has sailed, too. I look forward to being stuck here until this place goes out of business, and then I can see if Wal-Mart needs a greeter about my size.
The regular season ended in baseball this week and playoffs start tomorrow. There has been a ton of off-field drama this year. We have a kid who is a real asshole, and several problematic parents. It boiled over into a shouting match with one of them last night. Look, I understand the urge to defend your kid at just about any cost, but if someone like a coach or teacher told me my kid was a disrespectful asshole, I’d want to know the details instead of just blindly defending him and accusing the other party of being a liar. Maybe that’s why the kid is an asshole. He’s learning from a real pro.
Today is the day they announce the all-star team for the summer tournaments, so if you’re looking for me, I’ll be refreshing my email every 13 seconds. I honestly have no idea which way they’re going to go, though two dads I talked to who are neutral think my guy’s a lock, and that I’m insane for even worrying about it. We’ll see.
American cheese is fucking gross, like the rest of this place right now, come to think of it.