my mom and dad's house flooded today.

apparently you don't leave the washing machine on when you go out. or so my mother says, now looking at the incident firmly from hindsight.

this poses a little logistical nightmare for my family as we are moving to this same-flooded house in a little over a week.

deep breath. supposedly everything will work out.

is there anything you love and follow so blindly that you can't see the screaming warnings begging you to step away? thinking of the man that loves french-fries so much and with such frequently until the moment he drops from clogged arteries and heart disease. that kind of dedication towards an end? it is impressive.

i would point out that my example is an extreme one. lacking in subtlety.

there is a man that lives nearby, who owns a drum-set. he confides in those he meets that he is a musician. everyday without fail he attacks those drums from the privacy of his garage, inflicting upon his neighbors the kind of sonic torment the CIA has been trying to perfect since early in the 1950's.

watching closely you'll notice that there are all manner of jokes about drummers, from those that cannot be told in mixed company to those in teen-angst sitcoms. drummers do seem to be of a different breed. i point this out to say that i am not completely ignorant of the fact that drummers aren't guitarists or flautists.

this man's dream and statement of being a musician flies in the face of everything that comes out of his garage. as he pounds away, day after day chasing his dream, we neighbors dream fondly of taking a well-sharpened axe to his "skins" (both figuratively and formally).

there is at no point i can claim to be a musician. failing every instrument i have ever picked up. my love of music is no less for this. i do love music. i love how it moves both my spirit and my body. i love the idea that people think it identifies them, and how in that it tells us alot about a person by what kind of music they feel tells their story. unfortunately, the old adage holds true in my case: those that can, do; those that can't, teach; and those that can't teach, criticize. i am in this case a critic and it feels that i will not reach much beyond my role as critic, ever.

my neighbor's dedication though is above criticism. for someone that has absolutely no talent on the drums, who has an inability to set a beat or follow a cadence he shows amazing and resolute dedication to his pursuit. i only wish i too could find and follow something with such passion.

not to be overly critical... especially in light of my lack of blog-itude... but what has happened to the blog?

of late the blog world seems to be a little light on inhabitants. there are those that are taking longer and longer between entries and those that are instead of being less frequent are starting to sound recycled or "canned".

i'm curious as to its origin. have we all just fell in love with our tweets and facebook status? is the economic downturn affecting the writing habits of the average american (in addition to driving fewer miles and buying fewer plasma TVs are we now using a dirth of words)?

i find myself sounding as a broken record. skipping and rehashing the same emotions and conversations in light of being out of work. my blog entries have become less frequent even as i've had more time to write. this inverse function probably has a lot to do with having more to say when more is going on and less to say as i sit and watch reruns of Buffy.

the potential that everyone is being frugal with their language is at best a sad thing. there is no better time to speak out and work out than when optimism is fleeting. something you wonder about or wrestle with may be the thing that bolsters another in their struggle.

get back to your blogs.