“because ugly cheerleaders work harder”

picture-1Today is the birthday of collegerag.org, a snarky website devoted to college sports.  It’s a nice little site, and I am, of course, not only saying that because I did all the wordpress customizations on that sucker.  Took it from template to pimpin’ in about eighteen hours from beginning to end, thirteen of which were in the last twenty-four.  The crazy thing is, as I fixed people’s formatting and slapped together the facade, I actually got suckered into the writing. Which is weird—as other than my natural affection for the Rice Owls and the Pitt Panthers, I’m never really into college sports—and obviously, like all Texans, I take sides on the big issues (I’m a Longhorn).  I asked Geoff, the editor, and he said that if I could find a way to talk about College Sports on the site, that maybe I too could be come a contributing writer. We’ll see. I’m sticking to creating offensive fake advertisements for now. 


I’ve also been dabbling in independent media radio production. Although, for some reason, the wrong file is loaded up on Rustbelt’s site. 

In other audio production news (this is starting to sound like a State of the Union address), I’m the podcast editor for Hot Metal Bridge, and throughout the course of the semester, we’ll be making student readings and interviews with authors available for download on the website and in the iTunes music store (for free). I’ll be in one of this week’s episodes. Check it out on Thursday!

I got a couple questions in the inbox that I’ve been chewing over. Should have those up soon. Although I’m also rewriting a book this month, as well as presenting a paper at an English conference  (and going to San Francisco for a composition and communications one!).

Being busy has been a good thing. There’s something about being the right amount of slammed that makes you hyper focused. I took a midterm. Applied to graduate school. Planned a trip to New York. Ate all the blueberries. Threw a prom. And managed to take over the world for three glorious days. The life of a dictator can be trying, but after one major temper tantrum, I buckled down and finally, finally turned off the internet television long enough to get something done. 

And it’s starting to feel more possible these days. Like I can be this super person, who does stuff. But not too much. I’m also learning my limitations. That the strange alertness I used to get after an all-nighter has faded. That the horns in Sweet Caroline now drive me to yell “Let’s go Pitt”at inopportune moments, that I can, after years of not writing a new slam poem, win by a decent margin. That every now and then, I have to let Jamie Bono take over the world. That I can’t always hold on to South America, without my friends retaliating. That life is, in a lot of ways, a game of risk. And you can’t temper tantrum your way to victory without hearing about it for weeks and weeks on end.

But in the end, we’re all still building empires.