Is the drought finally over?

As I write this post, I've been out of work for three-and-a-half years. Never in my wildest nightmares did I think I'd ever be out of work this long. Of course, over the last ten years or so, the United States has had one of the worst recessions in its history, and the worst economic climate since the Great Depression of the 1930s.

Despite the tough economy, jobs are beginning to trickle in. I've had a nibble or three during the previously mentioned period of time, but nothing bit. One of my recent blog posts dealt with the problems I've had getting back to work, as well as my take on what some of the problems were. Those were just my opinions, of course, but definitely things that I've observed from my front row seat.

This week, much to my surprise, I actually had two opportunities come up. Both are technical writer positions. One is in Chatsworth, one is in Oxnard. Chatsworth is a 35-mile drive from home and can be somewhat grueling having to deal with heavy traffic going both directions. The other one is in Oxnard, a reasonable seven miles from home. The hiring manager for the one in Chatsworth has my resume and may or may not have reviewed it as of this post. As for the second one, I already have an interview scheduled within three days.

I don't know which company I'd be working for in Chatsworth, but the position in Oxnard is at Haas Automation, a well known manufacturer of computer-controlled machining centers. Exactly what kind of writing I'd be doing for them is not yet known, but I'm sure I'm up to the task. Two years ago, I interviewed at Haas for a technical writer position, but apparently they found a candidate better suited for it. In that case and this one, Haas came to me by finding my resume on one of the Internet job boards or on LinkedIn. Back in 1997 when Haas relocated to Oxnard from the San Fernando Valley, I applied for a drafter position and was contacted, but by that time I had accepted a position with a company that ended up going out of business about 13 months after I started working there. Many times I've wished that I had at least interviewed with Haas at the time. Who knows? I may have been hired and would be coming up on 20 years with the company.

Sometimes the third time is the charm, but I also interviewed with Aerovironment three times for various positions, and was called in for work on neither occasion.

All I need to do now is wait and pray that this time they'll decide that I'm the right candidate for the job. I'll keep you posted.

How do you fronounce your words?

Most of you have heard of the dreaded "grammar Nazi." Those are the people who are dedicated to making sure that everyone uses proper grammar, spelling, punctuation, etc. There's no doubt that most who know me would put me into that category. Oftentimes—and more commonly as of late—the term "grammar Nazi" is losing favor to the term "grammar police." Use of the word "Nazi" is considered offensive by some because of its tie to the horrible things that the Nazis did during World War II as they tried to conquer Europe. That's perfectly fine with me.

But regardless of which term is used, most of my friends would agree that either one would fit me. I have even begun switching over to that term and say that I am an officer on the Spelling and Grammar Police Force™. I'd show you my badge, except it fell off while I was feeding Chimi and it landed in his cage. In order to get it, I'd have to decide how much I like my hand.

As some people hit the occasional "clinker" when they sing—you know, you're expecting to hear a note sung one way, but it comes out too high or too low—some people do the same in their spoken words. Not a giant surprise, but I like words pronounced a certain way—the way that I would pronounce them. I'm not sure how or why I got that way. Perhaps because I've said some things that were a little off the beaten path but I thought were just fine, and was hit with the question of "why did you say that?" It made me sensitive to how others said things. I don't correct other people's pronunciation, but sometimes the way a word is pronounced is pretty cringe-worthy to me.

Let me examine some of these in no particular order.

One of the first ones I noticed was "EE-thur vs. AYE-thur" and "NEE-thur vs. NIGH-thur." In our family, we were brought up with "EE-thur and NEE-thur." For whatever reason, it bugged the heck out of me when for reasons unknown, our sister Valerie started saying "AYE-thur" and "NIGH-thur." It just didn't sound right coming out of her. Perhaps because it was different than how we were raised, I just didn't like it. Her kids use those same pronunciations, and I cringe to this day, but will forever hold my peace.

In this next case, I don't know if I've just been asleep or didn't notice, but I have taken notice to more people saying "PREE-zen-tay-shun." I've always said "PREH-zen-tay-shun" because that's how just about everyone said it when I was growing up.

If something is oozing with a rainbow of colors, to me it's "MUL-TEE-colored." Again, I just never noticed when someone said "MUL-TYE-colored." Or "MUL-TYE-anything." For me, it just doesn't roll off the tongue or something. Not sure what it is, but it just doesn't sound right to me.

Sometimes I associate these pronunciations with "corporate speak." Almost like the corporate types tweak a pronunciation for a little impact. Of course, I could be wrong. I was wrong once.

As I stated earlier, regardless of how others pronounce their words, chances are I won't give them any grief about it. Sometimes there is more than one way to do the same thing.

But a word to the wise: don't EVEN get me started on annoying, overused phrases like "and stuff like that" tacked onto a sentence. I have a few of those that just might be enough to entertain you with another entry.

On the write track

For whatever reason, I've been a lean, mean, writing machine this week. In fact, I think I've written more blog posts this year than I did in the entire year of 2013. And 2014 is only halfway and change behind us. That means you'll either get more exercise from running away from these posts, or it means that you'll consume more goodies while you sit and read all this stuff.

Writing is good for the soul. It's also good for the wallet if you write in some form as a part of your job. As I pointed out in this post, I've been writing in my spare time for quite some time now. Not everything I write is perfect—or even good for that matter—but occasionally I do hit the mark.

Now if only I could develop my artistic talent as I have my writing, maybe I can combine the two and do some amazing stuff. Only time will tell.

HAT TRICK!!!

Why would I give a blog post a title using a hockey term when I'm not even a fan of the game? In hockey, a hat trick refers to one player scoring three goals within a single game. In blog-ese, it means that I've written one blog post per day three days in a row. Contrary to what some of you might be thinking, I didn't really perform some sort of magic trick—like setting a hat on a table, saying a few magic words, and *POOF* out pops a rabbit. Or even worse, Chimi.

This week's posts have been, to a degree, historical, in a history of life sort of way. One went back and explored how this blog came about; another examined my entry into the world of doing my own comic strip. Should I share how I got interested in amusement parks and roller coasters? No, because I don't need to—I did that already back in June.

When all is said and done, it doesn't really matter if I focus on anything in particular because the whole idea of blogging is the writing. Writing is an exercise. Ever notice that in school you were given an assignment where the directions said, "Complete the following exercises." And you had to write and write and write and write. And it could be a lot of math or a bunch of sentences where you had to label the various parts of speech, or diagram the sentence by identifying the subject, predicate, object, etc.

As I'm learning, writing is good for the brain, it's good for the hand (or both hands if you're typing on a keyboard), and in the end, it's good for the soul.

Read El Cheapo Comics! In 4 Colors...

Can anyone think of someone who would create a comic strip and call it "El Cheapo Comics?" Yeah, me neither. But I must confess with humility and shame that some 40 years ago, I did just that. If you happen to have a copy of the 1977 El Camino—the North Hollywood High School yearbook—then you can find a small ad that says "Read El Cheapo Comics." During my senior year, they sold something called an El CaminoGram. For just a buck, you got a 3 x 5 form on which you could write anything you wanted, provided that it was nothing offensive. Your El CaminoGram would appear in the yearbook for that year. A little shameless advertising on my part, but the white lettering on a black background stood out. After my ad appeared, my readership tripled to about three.

My foray into comic strips began sometime during my time as a Herald-Examiner carrier. Those of you who have been in the greater Los Angeles area for more than 25 years might remember the Herald-Examiner. The paper folded in 1989. (Get it? A folded newspaper...)

Anyway, sometime in the late '60s, I started reading the newspaper every day. As with most single-digit-aged people, the comics were my favorite part. I figured that if grownups could come up with stuff like Snuffy Smith, Bringing Up Father, Blondie and so forth, there was no reason for a young guy with a good sense of humor and questionable artistic talent not to have a comic strip of his own. So Dum Bum was born. Like his friend and sidekick, Morgan, Dum Bum was a stick figure. He and Morgan did all kinds of crazy things that ended up with explosions, being stretched into weird shapes, having to deal with odd characters, etc. Clearly the TV cartoons of the day had no influence on me or anything.

But I added my own little twist. Thanks to my interest in public transportation (in L.A. that meant RTD buses—no rail in those days), Dum Bum and Morgan found themselves riding "RTZ" (Rapid Transit Zombies) buses to reach their destination. RTZ was a parody of the old RTD. All of their drivers were overweight, nasty creatures whose apparent goal was to make their ride as miserable as possible. They also made sure that the guys had to pay the full fare instead of the student discount. As you might figure, Dum Bum and Morgan often got back at them in some way.

At some point, I quit drawing the Dum Bum strip. Either I had no time because of school and my paper route or I just plain lost interest. However, a few years later (early '70s), I got the itch to do more comics. So two new, but similar characters emerged. This time, Rob and Bob Zilch were brothers, but they pretty much picked up where Dum Bum and Morgan left off. They did the same kinds of things. Like Dum Bum and Morgan, Rob and Bob were my age. When I learned to drive, so did they. When I was in high school, so were they. I didn't want to call the strip "Rob and Bob" because that was blah and boring. I needed a name that was not only catchy, but would allow a broad range of characters should I develop any. Somewhere, I heard the phrase "el cheapo" and liked it. Bingo! I had my name.

The tagline "In 4 Colors" came from the fact that I drew my comics with a Bic 4-Color Pen on notebook paper. Not the best media, but it worked. I had a little fun with it in the strip itself. Jokes about how things in their world were only in four different colors. "Well, if Eric would get a pen with more colors..." one would say. For a little fun, I often picked on myself in my comics.

The holes in the notebook paper came into play, too. Wherever there was a hole, I'd have a dialog bubble that used the hole as a letter O. Nothing was wasted. But remember that I'm part Scottish. We're very thrifty, you know.

Coming up with a good ending was always a bit troublesome for me. My good friend and fan of my work, Dan Doggett, used to tell me that I needed to go to finishing school. Believe it or not, I never got that joke until years later. I continued drawing these comics till not too long after graduating from high school. Occasionally I did a special one, but it was fairly rare.

The '80s rolled on. My sister introduced me to a co-worker of hers, we went on a date, fell in love, and eventually got married. We even popped out a kid, and when you have one of those, it's tough to draw comics with so many things going on in your life. In the late '80s, I wanted to get back to drawing my comics. I got ahold of some fairly nice paper and set up a different, much easier to read format. Unlike my previous comics that ran on both sides of a single sheet of paper, this one used only one side, had larger panels, and went on and on and on and on. As I write this entry in my blog, that comic has grown to 57 pages, but is still not complete. And it may never be completed as long as there is imagination left in the world. (I may have heard that someplace...)

One thing that still makes me smile to this day is the fact that Diana enjoys my comics. Several times I've found her sitting with the box that I use to store comics, and she's reading one and giggling at something in the story. Yeah, Dad's a bit "out there," but she loves me anyway.

The comic itch is still with me. Unfortunately, due to glacial weather conditions beyond my control (yes, my use of "glacial" is sort of an inside joke), I do not have a place in my home to sit and write comics. At some point, that will change. Then you'll not only have blog posts to read, but after scanning a comic into PDF form, you'll be able to read those, too. May the Lord have mercy on your soul...

The birth of Eric's Planet

The last time I wrote something in my blog, it was just a bunch of random ramblings of randomnation or some such stuff. That might have even been the title for all I know. Truth is, I can't even remember what I wrote without going back to look at it.

There are times when I just can't think of anything to write about, so I don't write anything. Major case of writer's block. But running out of blog topics should be unpossible. There are too many things going on in this world, and, truthfully, there aren't enough people who are able or willing to write about those things. I should be one of them.

Normally, when I do write something, I'll do my writing in the evening, usually not long after dinner. That way, I've fed my brain and reached just the right stage of awakenment to achieve the best results. Sometimes a brief walk will help as well. Night air does something to my thought process. Unfortunately, if I go too far, then I forget what I thought about before I can get those thoughts recorded. That's a clear sign of aging. Remember, for me, the ol' double-nickel birthday is nigh. To be fair, one of the few places where 55 is considered old is at Denny's. They'll give you a discount on your meal if you can show them your age. But when was the last time I ate at Denny's (voluntarily)? Nineteen ninety...something...

For this entry, I'm trying something a little different from my usual way of doing things. It's pushing 2am, the house is empty and dark, and it's just my computer and me. The Mrs is somewhere in the middle of the state and won't return for a couple of days. Diana will be back sometime tomorrow, and Chimi is in his cage enjoying his dinner and scaring off intruders. I'm shaved, showered, diapered, and ready for bed*. There will be no politics or gossip in today's installment since I do neither.

* Not everything in this sentence is true.

I am envious of people who are so full of ideas that they can just sit down and hammer out a post in little or no time. At one time, I kept a journal. In reality, it was more of a daily log because I never wrote my thoughts or ideas in it. All I did was chronicle my days. I wrote my first entry on January 1, 1989. My first journal was one of those Hallmark journals with blank pages. Everything in it was written in longhand, as I didn't own a computer in those days, and it would be next to impossible to load a book into a typewriter. My journals were kept like that for two years. In 1991, I had use of a word processor and started doing it that way. The downside was that since that word processor was at work, I could only write on days that I was in the office. Mondays meant recording what I did on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. The program I used was some ancient word processing program called "Multi-Mate." I can't even remember now who put that out or if it still exists in some form.

Once I got my own computer, I had Microsoft Word, which not only enabled me to have more control over how my journal looked, but I could also write whenever I wanted. My journal goes all the way from January 1, 1989 till about mid-October 2006. That's when my health was declining and I was headed for the hospital. (You can read all about that here.) I just couldn't keep up, lost track, and, as Porky Pig used to say, "That's all, Folks!"

However, I must say that if anything good came out of my journal, it was that I recorded some of the most important things in my life: learning that I was going to be a dad, Diana's birth, her growth and development, and her achievements.

Along came 2009, and I had become reconnected with my long lost friend from high school, Terri Anderson. On her Facebook page, I noticed a link to her blog. I read it and thought it would be great if I could do that. A little research revealed that anyone could get their own blog, so I signed up. And it's free! Since getting my health back in order, I imagined writing so much stuff that my fingers would bleed. Such has not been the case, however. Something is clearly borken on my end.

Another friend, Allen Wyly, started his blog after I did, but has written many, many more blog entries than I have. And he does a great job with his.

I have my work cut out for me. If I'm going to call myself a blogger, then I'd better blog. And what better way to do that than to write?

Random ramblings of randomnation

As threatened, I'm back at the blog again. With so much free time on my hands due to unemployment, you'd think that I'd be pouring my soul into writing about anything and everything. And, strangely, that's exactly what I have not been doing. Call it a case of writer's block, I guess.

I'm guilty of saying that my train of thought has derailed. That's an old saying that was funny exactly once, but I keep using it anyway. Perhaps I find humor in that saying because I'm a huge fan of trains.

It is high time for me to embark on an adventure of some sort. This adventure doesn't have to be anything big; even a joy ride on the Metro will do.

Kind of a short entry this time, but think of it as saving up for the big one.