Winter Wonderland my left foot!

I have a confession to make. I hate snow. And the cold. And cold snow. I love warm snow however (i.e. rain). And, because I live in the northeast, I get plenty of chances to express my hate. Now, I didn't always hate snow. In fact, growing up in Georgia, snow was a blessing. An inch of snow (known in the northeast as "a waste"), and school was closed. By noon, you were free to ride your bike like nothing happened. Then I moved...

My first year up north I was greeted by almost a foot of snow on a Monday. Amazing! No school! ... Not quite. As I ran down stairs, ready to watch cartoons and daytime television until my brain melted, I was stopped by my parents. As I attempted in standard nine-year old fashion to explain that since this was more snow then I had ever seen, school was surely canceled, they merely pointed out that this was considered "light snowfall" up here. I would still need to attend school, and no I couldn't just fake sick. My hatred began then.

As I got older, I learned the joys of shoveling, driving on black ice, and horrific sledding accidents. Needless to say, my views on snow haven't improved much. So, imagine my "delight" when I went outside this past Thursday and saw snow falling and sticking to the ground. ... In fall. Or "the season heard of but never seen" up here. Some people may have used this as a chance to catch the "first snowflake-on-your-tongue of the season". I used it as a chance to scream "It's f@#$in' October! You can't give us two goddamn months!" at the sky, along with enough expletives to melt the snow around me.

So, I now get to look forward to a winter that begins before Halloween and that will hopefully end before Labor Day... Wish me luck.

Forgive me, my fellows!

I have a confession to make. There isn't going to be a post today. This is it. However, to make up for that, I will be posting twice tomorrow! And I mean it!

The best laid plans of mice and men

I have a confession to make. I suck at planning ahead. Well, I suppose that's only partially true. In all honesty, I can plan like no other. I fail at the execution. I can formulate a logical plan for anything from changing a tire (Step One: Place jack under car...) to world domination (Step One: Create mind control powder that tastes like salt...). Quite luckily for everyone, that last one has yet to come to fruition. Yet. As soon as I can make it sodium/gluten/fat/anything-that-sounds-unhealthy free I'm in business...

Back to my point. Failing to follow through on plans. Everyone who has ever tried to meet me at an exact time knows that I'll be anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour late. I try to be on time. But unless I convince myself that I'm supposed to be somewhere an hour before I'm expected, I always run late. And even when I plan on being early I sometimes just manage to be late enough to be on time.

Not only that, but there's more. Take this post for example. The original plan was to have this done and posted before 3 p.m. As you can see (Or would if anyone was reading this. [Outside of the six of you I'm forcing. Hi captive audience!]), that didn't happen. In fact, I planned to be finishing up the posts for the rest of the week so that I wouldn't fall behind. Yet again, not so much.

I plan on posting a post a day on this blog. And I plan to stick to it for a good long while. But... Well, you know.

Starting somewhere

I have a confession. This is my first blog. Well, I supposed that's not fully true. This is my first "real" blog. I went through a few brief flings with LiveJournal, but... Let's just say it ended poorly. The first try was nothing but the angsty whining of a teenage boy. Hardly Pulitzer material. The second was during a phase where I considered myself a writer. Thankfully, a few forays into open mic poetry reminded me of my place.

But this is different. I've been reading a few wonderful blogs and was inspired to start again. And this time, things will change. No more angst! No more whining! I'm on my way to being an adult, and I'm going to handle my problems like a real grown-up! (Expect a few drunken postings.) And no more attempts at being something I'm not. I am not a writer, I am not a comedian, I'm not Hemingway. Hell, I'll just be happy if I don't come across as Courtney Love on a bender.

So, you may be asking why my blog is titled "Confessions of a Bad Example". At least you would be if I had readers. (Fingers crossed!) Well, you've got my brother to thank for that. When he was born nine years ago, I realized I had strayed far from the good example path. I hoped that the least I could do was teach him from my numerous, and growing, mistakes. For instance, not getting drunk to the point of no return/in with the bad crowd/arrested.

Now I'm not saying I'm a horrible person, but I'm no role model. And maybe by sharing some of my stories I can guide people on to the right path. Or off the wrong one. Or just make someone laugh. At least if I fail, I'll just have one more confession to make.