90

 My grandmom is going to be 90 at the end of February. 90. That is, like, really old. But she's still very much with it. After a recent visit with her, I kinda just stopped and thought for a while about what it means to live that long.

(Warning: the self-aggrandizing thoughts of a deluded blogger lay ahead)

Your Guide To 2012

Well, hey there, kiddies! Been a while. How were your holidays? You're right, I don't care. Me? I spent New Year's Eve avoiding Chinese people as I didn't want things to get awkward at midnight. It's not really their day, is it?

You don't realize it, but I gave you all a gift this year. I didn't subject you to any of my year end lists. You're welcome. See, I'm not a dick like most people. I'm a dick like me. And I know my opinion doesn't mean shit to most of you, so I figured I'd save us all the trouble and just fore go the whole "year end" thing.

But you're not getting off Scot free. Never understood that saying, as most Scots I've met are such filthy, mangy beasts that they have no use for our material possessions anyway. Most wouldn't know how to trade or barter if their disease ridden lives depended on it. Seriously. Scottish people are just the worst. Truly awful, foul smelling human beings. If you can even call them that. But I digress.

See, I have some powers. And I've chosen to use them, typically, for evil. But in this instance, and in the spirit of giving, I've done you all a great service. See, I can travel into the future. I'm all about the element of surprise, so I don't often employ this power. But for you, dear reader, I made an exception. Now, I should note that everything is subject to change, given the whole "Free Will" thing that us humans possess. Ugh. But I'm pretty sure I nailed everything. So without further Gerard Depardieu, I present:

Sy's Handy Dandy Guide To 2012

Ridiculous(ness)

Ah, MTV. That bastion of integrity. The molder of minds. The universally accepted metric for that which is both normal and popular. I'd like to state from the jump that this is not going to be a "y dusent MTV play muzik nemore?!?" rant. There are enough of those out there, and they all suck.

This also isn't going to be a "lol Rob Dyrdek suks!" diatribe. I don't find him particularly entertaining. But that doesn't mean I think he's a bad person. This is about a giant media conglomerate willfully profiting off of a human being's death.

Occupy My Street

Allow me to preface this by saying that I try to abstain from overtly political posts. This blog is intended to be funny. Whether it succeeds or not is up for debate. I ask your indulgence on this topic, however.

Look, nobody with a rational brain thinks that corporate America are angels. But this is the worst possible representation of the opposition.

As I watch these protests, what I mostly see is young white people. And the people that I personally know who support this are young white people. Most with college education. The same people who, without the system they're railing against in place, would not have that precious college education.

Take A Look At My (Cloud) Girlfriend

We here at Required Reading are not in the business of advertising. If that were the case, I'd advise you to click that pretty little banner you see above. I'd tell you how easy it is to click that banner, and how I'd get a small bit of money each time you clicked it. I might even point out how much effort each of these seemingly effortless posts take. And how I embark on this Herculean task for you, my dear reader. And that to click on a banner really isn't asking all that much, is it? SO JUST CLICK ON THE GODDAMN BANNER!

Sorry. There was a point when I started writing this. Oh yeah, I remember now.

Are you a single fella? Looking for that special someone? Nightlife not your scene? Don't auto-erotically asphyxiate yourself just yet, Johnny! The answer lies over yonder jump!

Fan Mail

Man, I loved this whole thing from start to finish. Your writing style is amazing. I've dealt with bullies & nasty racism for 12 years. The emotional pain was excruciating & I don't think I'll ever recover. However, the side effect was a blessing. I too developed a broad sense of humor & was a counselor & campus ministry leader in high school. I held positions that required confidence. The only thing was I never had confidence, I only faked it. I cant assert myself verbally or stand up for what I think is right. That's why I admire who you are & the character you molded yourself to be. I'm glad to know there's someone I can relate to. Never change yourself for anyone & never stop being a cynical ass hole.

That's a comment from my I'm A Cynical Asshole post. To be honest, that's one of my least favorite posts. It's not funny, it's not clever and it's way too honest for my liking. I wrote it at a time when I was hurt. And being hurt oft leads to overly emotional outbursts. Having distanced myself from the piece, I think I somehow managed to avoid that. But the responses it evoked, both in the comments section and in real life (you know, like, outside of the internet) are something I could never have expected. The above selection in particular touched me. To think that there is someone who would read the silly little words I type, and that they take something positive out of it, something that might make their life just the slightest bit better...it's too much for me to fathom. 

I don't know the person who made that comment. And I'd prefer not to. Selfishly, it's better to help a complete stranger than a friend. Or maybe it's easier for me to deal with the complex problems of someone who's not so intertwined with my daily life. Trust, I have plenty problems that I avoid answering. I'm sure most of you can relate. Physician heal thyself and all that. 

I recently had the honor to eulogize a friend of mine's grandfather. Frankly, the family felt that they couldn't do it. They would be far too emotional. And there were others considered before me. They, too, felt as if they wouldn't be up to the task. When asked, I immediately accepted. You know that saying "anything I can do to help?" Well, that was what I could do to help, and I knew it. See, I was detached enough to be clear, while still being close enough to bring a human element to it. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. To summarize an incredible life in a concise 5 minutes in front of their grieving loved ones. A Herculean task if ever I'd been charged with one.

           It's funny though. I wrote in a purposely upbeat manner. I deliberately avoided certain words and phrases. I'm seldom ever pleased with my first draft. That goes for blogs to papers to music reviews. But this one...this one I knew I got right on the first try. I read it from start to finish exactly one time. The morning of the funeral, I was blindsided with the task of reciting a poem that someone didn't feel up to reading. Ok. I'm a pro. I read it over a few times, making sure of my inflections. I was nervous about being seen as a hog, taking up too much time. I actually tried to get someone else to read it. Then I was informed that I was the sole speaker. In other words, if I didn't do it, it wouldn't get done. 

I read the poem. I damn near lost it on the first line. Some pro. Then I beseeched the room for its indulgence as I read my own thoughts. I blacked out at this point. The only things I remember are my legs shaking uncontrollably and my friend's uncle loudly chiming in with each anecdote I relayed. I'm told everyone clapped for me at the end. I have to take their word for it, because I don't remember that.

Why do I tell you this? Because several people came up to me afterwards and told me how surprised they were by my eulogy. How eloquent and poignant I was. How they didn't know I had that in me. How skeptical they were of me doing the eulogy.

I tell you this story to say this: You can change people's perception of you. It doesn't matter what it is. Chances are what people see you as is not what is inside of you. YOU determine your perception. It's entirely in your hands. Your story is still being written, and you have the amazing gift to craft your own ending. Do it.

On a personal note, I'd like to express my immense gratitude to a group of people who took me in as one of their own and entrusted me to send off their hero. I can never repay the faith you showed in me, but I hope my words did something to ease your pain. Someone's watching M*A*S*H reruns forever and he's happy.

What's So Funny?

When I was in grade school, one of my teachers told me I'd make either a great stand up comedian or cult leader. Thus far, I've played it down the middle, not committing wholly to either. At that age, I never understood why people told me I should be a comedian. To my young brain, the idea of standing in front of people, their eyes expectantly burning through you, waiting for words to spill out of your mouth that change their mood, it just seemed gross to me. What kind of masochist would put himself through that, I thought.

To a degree, I still feel that way. To my way of thinking, if humor is discussed, it ceases to exist in that situation. Sure, you can then turn the situation humorous by commenting on the lack of humor, but why go through all that? Having said that, I decided to write about humor. The laughs stop here. You've been warned.