Author: John Bollwitt

I woke up this morning and could barely get out of bed. I must have went to sleep just ahead of ten last night and didn’t wake up until eight. My whole body just feels lacking. At a certain point today, I thought that maybe I was going through caffeine withdraw. It would make sense as Friday saw me drinking coffee and red bull to get me through the double remote day. A slight hit of the stuff seemed to help things, but I’m not completely there yet.

Winter has finally got the best of me. The fortunate fact is that I have been able to catch it and make this realization. I long for warmth. Sun. Running outside in the sweltering heat. I never had a problem with the cold toes or shorter days, but now that my body is starting to react, I am complaining. I probably won’t stop until we get a full week where it stays above freezing.

Station life… Where do I begin?

Just when everyone is beginning to understand where this whole consolidation process is heading, everything takes a sudden turn for the complete unknown. Sure, something has been started and a plan has been laid out, but the guy pushing all of this from the top has stepped aside. Within the next several days, some one else is bound to fill his shoes. Things have the ability to get really good or really bad depending on how it all works out, who you are, and what you do.

The projects progress. The list of things to do are diverging as everyday goes by in terms of what I need to do and what Jim needs to do. The big ones are on the horizon, but those will be less painful as it’ll be more of a learning process rather than some one who is directing the action. At the same time, it’s a strange feeling to become more and more independent in my projects. People take notice. People say thanks. It feels good.

Let’s not talk about salary.

It completely amazes me that a blizzard tore through town the other day and it hardly phased me. I recall waking up around dawn to hear a car outside struggling to get up the slight hill in front of my building. With the pedal more than likely to the floor, it took him nearly five whole minutes to travel about one hundred feet. Looking out the window, it was obvious that we had more ice, but I did not fail to notice the blur of white just beyond said vehicle. Working with George and Scottie today at KRUI, they were telling all sorts of stories about how bad things were. Hmm… I guess it was pretty bad.

Jack Kerouac is a man that I had often only heard of and read slightly about. A beat poet. That’s all I really knew until Friday night when the museum show was focused on him in its entirety. It took me back to my times of lit classes in high school and college. I would take such different interpretations to things that I was forced to read only to have those thoughts deemed academically incorrect. It would always confound me how the intellectual property I was assigned to create my own ideas and concepts about for papers and discussion were not the norm of the group think that went on in those classes.

It’s because of this reason that I have been so amazed by what I have learned about Jack Kerouac. You take what he does as it is. There’s not much to interpret or explore deeper meaning to. It is what it is, and that is so much of the greatness. And to see The Scroll is something I now rank up there with seeing such things as Starry Night or Juan Diego’s Cape.

I have a problem. I love feeding my brain.

It’s strange to think that the project that came to light in 2001 is finally nearing completion at KRUI. Somehow, in the midst of every turn life has thrown at me, I’m the remaining soul who has seen it go from start to finish. At this point, my help is only on the side of paid help. The last few days I have been busy making the cables that piece it all together. George appreciates my abilities so much that this weekend will find me in the confines of the place I will never call home.

It’s strange to think back to those meetings where it was my call. Where conduits went, locations of walls, and other various details that overwhelmed my extreme lack of experience in these matters. I’m still far from being an expert, but I learned a lot then and every single day that passes by.

No time for love, Dr. Jones. The production studio wiring is all done as of yesterday. Now for the news studio.

The next time you are at a stoplight, take a moment to notice what the person driving the car behind you is doing. I have not been able to figure it out, but once inside of your car, you are in your own little world. For those with tinted windows, this is very true. However, for those of you without, I can still see when you pick your nose and try to figure out where to put your snot once you fished it out of those hard to reach places.

I’m a guilty party of being one who sings while in the car. I’ll play drums on my steering wheel, pluck bass strings on the gear shift. If you want to look at me and see me do these things, I can’t stop you. I’ll eat, drink, and talk on the phone in comfort of my little red car. I’ll talk with a friend in the passenger seat, moving my arms and hands like I normally do. You can see me do this at the intersection while we’re all waiting for the light to turn green.

Still, I won’t pick my nose.

I guess there was a time where caffeine was an everyday addiction. I think I hit my peak in high school. Soda during the day, and then horrible, gas station cappuccino would get me so hyper on the weekends that most people would think strange thoughts about me. Kid you not, a lot of folks tended to believe I drank and dig drugs during those years. Seriously, it was part caffeine, but mostly personality. I’ve given up that chemical dependency, but there is also truth in the saying that some things do not change.

Then there are Java House fridays at the station. Two things I can usually bank on when it comes to days like today is a cinnamon roll and a cup of coffee. A double jolt of, “wake the hell up welcome to Friday!!!” I can handle the sugar, but the coffee puts me over the edge.

When early evening rolls around, I am hurting.

I have fallen prey to my DVR. It is such a crutch for me anymore. It’s seldom that I actually sit down to watch live TV anymore. I record the programs I want to see and watch them when I want. Did I just say that? Am I a freaking commercial? For the love of pete, it is true. I am a victim of a technology that makes life uselessly more simple and gives other people the ability to scoff me for. At the same time, I cannot really recall the last time I actually watched MTV. Do you know how good that feels?

The truth of the matter is that even though I record all these shows, I hardly ever fast forward through the commercials. There is that nagging addiction to pop culture in the back of my head that needs to be fed from time to time. I allow myself the ability to be aware of the crap that exists out there just enough so I can say, “Yeah, I’ve heard of that but never sat down to watch it.”

And don’t even get me started on pausing live TV…

No matter how good of a driver you think you might be, no one can compete with ice. Snow, I can handle. Fact is, I love to drive in the snow, granted that it’s not so deep that it will stop the little red car dead in its tracks. The thing about ice is that not only is it hard to drive your own car, but you have to worry about anything else that moves around you. That pedestrian running across the street? If they slip and fall, how soon can you stop before you run them over? And that huge sand truck with the snow blade on the front of it? I’d like to thank that driver for getting it under control before we met head on.

The ice has been horrible in the last few days. The next couple do not look much better. The FM tower is having issues, and a total collapse is not out of the question. Should be an interesting end to this week.

It doesn’t hurt too much. My head has a slight ache to it. It was completely worth it though. Deidre and Kristen were the only ones brave enough to brave the cold and stereotype of being too old to go sledding. I wish I could say that it’s just your normal sore muscles from running up and down the hills. Going down head first, my face planted into a pile of snow at the bottom of the hill, legs came up, and I was looking up at the sky. I think next time I’ll go for a triple axle.

Had the chance of seeing The Life Aquatic last night. On the personal level, I enjoyed it. At one point in my life, I wanted to do something with film. However, that major during my college career faded into what was once just a good idea. I can see how a lot of people don’t really care for it. The pace is different, the style is unfamiliar to american cinema, and the story is odd, to say the least. I always take movies for what they are. Not what I expect them to be, could be, or should be. I’m also the type who believes that films like The Kentucky Fried Movie are brilliant. I’m just having a hell of a time finding it on DVD around here.

The epitome of geek:

Two magazines in my mailbox when I get home. One is a Dell product catalog. The other is a MacWorld. Why or how it is that I get either of these publications confuses me. Still, I laughed out loud to myself… in the hallway… by myself.

I often wonder what my neighbors think about me.