Here’s the babe and me in California. It’s the rubber shark from Jaws. The sweaters indicate later in the year of 1991, but I’m just publishing now because, oddly, there were no journals written during that period. I know what some of you are thinking, but, you see, mine was an actress. Neener, neener. Mind you, the downside is that I will never be able to find anything comparable. I currently reading a biography of Johnny Carson, and look what I have to say.
You know, the more I read about Johnny Carson, the more I’m glad I never watched his show. [That is correct, I have never seen the television show he hosted.] But I have shivering feelings about anybody who did, and thought it [was] real. The most heavily scripted parts were where he “ad libbed”. Figure that one out. The man was a very unsavory character. But there are some things I like, for instance, when he got divorced they kept it quiet, or at least toned it right down. (There is a long story as to why I think media people have a duty to at least not glamorize divorce.) Anyway, his first wife, Jody, didn’t seem too bright to start with, and well, you know when somebody like that starts getting the free easy money.So this mad cow disease thing again, so I decide to try shish-kebob with pork. I dunno. I had a photo, but I think I might have put ketchup on that and ate it instead. There doesn’t seem to be anything you can do to make it (pork shish-kebob) delicious. It’s good, I mean, but bland. I tried everything, marinate in hot sauce, fried in olive oil, baked with Mrs. Dash, but it won’t come alive. Is it the meat or my cooking? And you didn’t have to answer so quickly.
[Author’s note: knowledge is relative, I think, and an intelligent person has a broad base of knowledge. By relative, I mean that, if you knew twice as much as average, there would be someone in the room who thinks you are not an expert on anything. The high caliber of your knowledge is not as distinct as it would be in a person of ordinary intellect. I do not recall what caused me to compose the following.]
The idea of why I am “not an expert on anything” is still in the airwaves. I know I could be [perceived as an expert], because others spend years becoming an expert and yet lose those years to other pursuits. My primary activity was general knowledge, which I have to suppose I have by now. What to focus it on is the question. If there was a major outcome of my years at the phone company, it was the clear advantage in problem solving I had over the rest who seemed to be channelized to only their own field of specialization. Thus, I protest that just because I may not have specialized in one area, that does not mean I don’t know as much about certain “experts” in several areas.
Still, I still get stumped by highly specialized questions. I do believe my overall chances are better as an individual than in a group because I have no specialization. What I have is the time to think it over. I always did have the hope of doing something good for the world that outlasted me, but what? I can’t even write poetry.
[Author’s note: but I can write, and nobody had yet told me about blogs. Something at work had set me off, if I recall. I knew as much as most site managers, but I was not a site manager. Because I didn’t want to be.]
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