The Wingdings You Were Waiting For
By Bryan May
Slurp-ditty, slurp-ditty, slurp. This weekend has
completely emptied me of my creativity, but I am not a
flaker, not one to miss a deadline or let a good man down.
My tank is depleted, but I am not without the capability for
word creation. Not that I’ll be creating new words, but
maybe I’ll string a few together that you haven’t heard
before in the exact sequence in which I present them to
you. Maybe I’ll even throw a few fabricated words in here
and there the next few weeks to make up for the lack of
stimulating ideas, humor, drama, intensity, or romance.
Because at this juncture I’m not sure I have the capacity to
capture any of those concepts in a fluid and enticing
manner. Last Friday was my birthday. My 26th.
I don’t recall many birthdays that were overly vivid, but
last year, being only 368 days ago and all, is quite fresh.
For now. Like all the birthdays before, the precise nature
of my 25th will fade. It is more the frame of
mind I had going into my 25th that makes the
biggest impact on me, confident that this past year would be
my best year yet. It was a tragically productive year, full
of unfortunate circumstances that all induced pain yet all
concluded with pain alleviating or life improving outcomes.
I’ll take it. 365 days later my love interest was the same
person as the year before, albeit a quite dissimilar
situation. She would very possibly call me her “interest”
both years as well, only neither year were we together.
August 20th, 2003 was the day after my first call
to her, and the day before our first date. August 20th,
2004 was nearly two months after I walked out her door
following our break up. This year’s evening, which I ended
up spending with her, turned out to be fantastic. I would
rank it as our best night ever. It had the newness of our
first encounter, and the self-aware, mutual honesty of a
couple who had been together for years. Only we had not
been together for years. We were not together at all. And
yet we were.
I’m
trying to set myself straight and not admit that I’m in my
“late 20’s.” One friend pointed out that for all the other
reasons why it is particularly useless to lament the fact
that I’m 26 and how that’s the “dark side of my 20’s,” there
is one reason, rooted in sheer logic that makes it truly
worthless. It is that technically, upon my 25th
year and sixth month, I had already ventured into the “later”
stage. So I guess I’m over the whole affair. At least
I can pretend to be. I have not yet been to a wedding for
one of my friends, but I think I’ll be getting tuxed up
before too long. I’ll be raiding an open bar some time in
2005, I can bet. Or not. Most of my friends are planners,
so even if a proposal occurs in the next few months, it
still might be some time before the actual union
transpires.
Since I
am conducting a love dialogue simply for the sake of
blather, I guess I’d better alter my theme, seeing that this
is a public forum. It’s been over two months since I typed
a single word about the industry in which I am employed.
Here are a few lines of ramble about the affiliate network
scene as it relates to me. As a Publisher Representative, I
adore what I do, partly because of the constant obstacles
and competition. It’s just like being in an intimate
relationship. I work and toil and expend infinite effort to
keep my clients happy, and when all is well they are quiet
and withdrawn, and when the sudden flash hits and there is
the tiniest hitch they come charging at me, flailing and in
need of immediate reassurance. I guess that’s the way it is
supposed to be. I am here to mend what needs to be fixed.
That is the role I fill. The market is down, but I’m
positioned to bring it up. Tell me what you need and I will
find a way to provide it for you. Tell me what I
need and I will find a way to make it so.
Bryan May
bmay@emarketmakers.com
