The Return

After watching The Natural about 45 times on AMC over the past two months, I've noticed some commonalities between its plot and my blog. For starters, they both star a rugged blond dreamboat, adored and respected by multitudes of women and men alike. Now, all personal delusions aside, when you look at the development of the character in Roy Hobbs, and the progress of this site, there are some similarities (with the film, not the book. The book ends on a shitty note). Roy fashions a powerful bat from a fallen oak tree; I fashioned this "powerful" blog from a fallen level of physical activity. Roy was a 35-year-old "rookie" with a big-league club; I was a 26-year-old "rookie" when I started writing. Roy's natural talent turned the New York Knights into a contender, but then his interest in a woman compromises his playing ability; My natural writing ability turned "Rhymes With Tyler" into a distraction from work, but then my lack of content and subject matter compromised my update frequency.

But Roy came back from his slump, and in the end, he was victorious, as seen in the video above. Luckily, he had his back-up music playing on the old Victrola. For me, I've come back to writing after a two-month hiatus, with the easy topic of writing about coming back to writing after two months. My backup music is playing on the old JVC 3-disc CD changer. Is it cheating? Possibly. Is it the easy way? Absolutely.

My last post was on September 13, and admittedly, it's not much of a post. I had to put something in there, just to keep the site running. So really, my last post with any real compositional elements would be August 23. Fuck, that's a long time ago. What the hell has happened since then? Nothing? Nothing at all worth writing about? Actually, that's where the irony lies. There's been plenty to write about, but mostly journal-type material. Which, if you've read any of my blog, is material that I don't want to write about. I don't need to write about my life, as I've stated a few times before. My life isn't that interesting, per se. My secret life is awesome! And I write about stupid, nostalgic things in my secret life. Jerry O'Connell, eat it. I've just had the writer's block of late. I needed a break from writing about cereal, children's shows and sarcasm for just a small while, and when I felt up to it, I could return.

So here we are. What's happened to me since two days before my birthday? I will explain, using one big ugly sentence.

I drank the day before my birthday, I drank the day of my birthday (in Calgary), I went houseboating in the Shuswap, I got carbon monoxide poisoning, I went camping in Wainwright, I wore extremely short denim shorts, I started organizing events for the SA of Grant MacEwan, I met and drank with Kari and Tory of the Mythbusters (Tory's first time in Canada was Edmonton!), I made fun of shitty-looking PT Cruisers while bonding with Irshad Manji, I got a key cut, and other such activities bordering between super cool and super inane.

Because I couldn't find anything worth commonting about that wasn't about me, I didn't write. And no matter how loud the lamentations of all my readers were, I just couldn't subject them to that type of banal narration (sorry, mom and dad). However, we've reached a turn-around. I've just noticed that Channel 11 has the Shaw Christmas Fireplace on the loop, WELL before it usual scheduled airing, and what's this? A new-look fireplace? The inner pop-culture nerd in me is ecstatic! (and inner Grandpa as well, apparently. Because old people like watching static images for a very long time. Uh, apparently)

I feel invigorated!

*Cue inspirational music*

Let a new age of writing begin! Let the remembrance of nostalgia re-commence!

So hey, does anyone remember Gold Rush bubble gum?