Miley Cyrus and The MTV Awards Fiasco

You know, I actually feel kind of bad for her. Watch her face and her movements. There’s no grace, no fluidity, no confidence. It’s like she got pushed into doing that…. that....

well, whatever the hell that was.

Seriously. Her face looks like she’s concentrating more than necessary for something that should’ve been well rehearsed. Like it was a last minute change, or something she wasn’t comfortable with.
And the dancing. It looks very jerky. Not at all skilled or planned. Again; unrehearsed.

I can’t help but wonder if it was something that somebody pressured her into doing, going for ratings and following the idea that scandal is good, because “there’s no such thing as bad press”.

And if she did do it intentionally, then I feel sorry for her that she really thought it was necessary for her career or that she’s just become that addicted to attention.

I see yet another child star headed for drug addiction and where-are-they-now jokes.

It’s easy to bash, but remember - all these people are just that. People.

Back In The Game

It's been a long time since I posted anything.


To be honest, my mind and motivation have been kind of lost for months. I started the year off dealing with both breaking up with Baby Mama and losing my job of fifteen years.

She and I finally had to admit to ourselves that, while sometimes opposites may attract, they don't necessarily live in harmony happily ever after.

The store I worked for was closed by the company due to a breakdown in lease renegotiation, and there were no open positions anywhere in the district for full timers, so the whole management team was left swinging in the breeze. Well, that's kind of harsh. They actually did provide us with a very generous severance package (and I'm not saying that sarcastically).

So, at the end of January, I found myself unemployed, moving out of the house where my Baby Girl lived, and wondering what the hell was next.

I started what I thought was going to be a dream job. I've ridden for well over twenty years, so working at a motorcycle dealership should be an awesome gig, huh? Maybe for some people. Whatever your passion is; motorcycles, cooking, photography, whatever, be very careful and think it through very well before making a living at it. There's more than even odds that you'll just wind up turning your former passion into your daily grind. Some can make it work, and work well. I'd say the vast majority don't. Then, on top of that, my sales weren't up to par, so they let me go a couple of months ago, and I had to job hunt again.

Then, Baby Mama decided she needed to move from Austin back to Atlanta. She has her reasons, and I know they're valid, but that doesn't make it easier for me to accept that I now have two children who live 1,000 miles apart. I respect her reasons, and I understand them, but there's still a part of me that wants to be fucking pissed off and to resent her. I don't; but still...

So, anyway, it's been a hell of a year for me. My inspiration to write left, and even at times when I felt inspired, I just didn't have the motivation to do it. But now it's come back. I don't know how often I'll write, but
I'm.
Going.
To.
Write.

A couple of bright spots:

Baby Mama and I both have iPhones - thank God for Face Time. I get to talk to Baby Girl face to face.



I just started working at one of the companies I really wanted to get with. A big corporation with competitive pay and good benefits, and they're national, so when the Boy Child graduates from high school in a few years, I can move to Georgia to be near Baby Girl, and it will just be a transfer with the same company, instead of starting the job search all over.


I've been invited to occasionally contribute to a couple of websites. It doesn't pay, but it's inspired me to start writing again, plus I know that my stuff will be read by more people than the small number who follow my personal blogs. Check out www.youmotorcycle.com and bikerMetric.


So, yeah. I'm back. And I'm still not always right, but I'm still always pretty damn close. And when you're dealing with horseshoes and hand grenades, close counts, y'all.