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Procrastination and You

Why, why do we (I) procrastinate? to wha purpose does it serve? Why, why, why do I do this to myself? le sigh.

Ugh.

Man, fuck this shit.
Like homework. Or Drawing. Or sleeping.

FUCK! it's 5:45 am.

I have to work at 2pm. God I hate work. Kill me.

Goodnight.

Fuck You, Brian Giese.

I've been a bear fan since I was three. I have a picture of myself taken in January of '87 with a "Refrigerator Perry" T-shirt on with my tiny arms outstretched above my massive melon and even more massive hair, in celebration of a Bears touchdown. Watching the Chicago Bears are about the only positive memories I have with my father.
And even those aren't TOO positive because they Suuuuuucccked all throughout the nineties.

The Bears have always been a defense team, and that cool. But Defense isn't exciting. At least not when you're a little kid, it's not.

Which brings me back to that picture. That TD celebration I was photographed displaying happened in January of 87. That would've been about the time the Bears were losing the NFC Championship to the 49ers the year after that glorious superbowl.

You see, the main reason the Bears were never able to repeat the Greatness of Super Bowl XX was that we had quarterback problems. Jim "The Punky QB" McMahon was awesome, but ALWAYS injured and his backups couldn't cut it.

And Jim was the last really good QB we've had.

In between there were a FEW (Erik Kramer, Jim Miller, etc) who were good, serviceable, but unspectacular as well.

I'm 24 now and for over two decades I'd watch highlight reels from the rest of the NFL featuring quarterbacks with laser, rocket-arms firing the pigskin 45 yards downfield to a receiver who would jump, snatch that bullet out of the air, and land just in time to put a spin-move on some chump free safety as he ran for an extra ten, if not straight into the endzone.

THAT is excitement.

I would watch, as a wee one, and at that age I just couldn't understand why We didn't do that. It works for everyone else, right?
I didn't understand that we f
lat out SUCKED too much to accomplish any exciting high-powered-offense type of plays.
Two decades.
No excitement.

Enter Rex Grossman.
Picked by Chicago in the first round of the 2003 draft, Rex Grossman was the leader of an always competitive Florida Gators team and narrowly missed winning the Heisman trophy his sophomore year.
We didn't see much of him that year because Jauron was still our coach and he's an asshole.
The year after he was injured early in the year scrambling in Minnesota. Out for the year.
The year after he broke his ankle in the preseason. He missed the first three-quarters of the season.

He came back in the Bears/Falcons game. Kyle Orton had managed to let the Defense eek out a few wins that year but this game was big because we were facing the (supposedly) always dangerous Mike Vick (yeah, the dog killer). Urlacher was eating his shit for breakfast and Vick looked confused and scared. However, we needed points on the board and Orton was playing like shit.

They finally put Grossman back in. On his first play in he threw a 23 yard STRIKE to Muhsin Muhammed. I was living in my apartment in Merrillville and I screamed loud enough to make every asshole in my building think I'd just been stabbed. Grossman performed well for the rest of the game and season, but we lost in the first round of the playoffs to Carolina, mostly thanks to bad Defense, not Rex.

2006 was a magical season. I wish I could go back now that I know how great it was to be. So many great moments.
And it started with a bang as well. Before the season started there was a lot of talk about how we haven't seen many deep throws from Rex, and we knew from his college days he could. Game 1 of the regular season against the fucking Packers in Lambeau Field. A win for Rex against the Pack would mean a LOT.

We prison fucked them. We shut them out. It was the first shut out in Lambeau in something like 18 years and the very first of Bret Favre's career. The Defense was amazing. A young, unknown, rookie named Devin Hester took back the first of what would become MANY punt returns for a spectacular touchdown.

But the most amazing thing of all (to me, anyway) was that on one of the first few plays of the game, Rex Grossman uncorked one WAY downfield to a wide-open Bernard Berrian for the go ahead touchdown.

The deep ball.
High powered Offense.
Speed and excitement.
On THE BEARS offense.
I could've cried.

I don't have to go into too many details, but there were many awesome throws after that. And many not-so-awesome throws.

Too many of those not-so awesomes led to the benching of Rex three games into the 2007 season.

Enter Brian Griese.
An 11 year veteran that never accomplished anything.
A good, serviceable, if unspectacular quarterback.
Mediocre.
No more high-powered offense.
No more excitement.
No more deep ball.

Fuck You, Brian Griese.

I hope he busts a hip.

Tags:

Let's get the party started then?

So, I'm an english major. I should be writing. Right?

I mean, I'm not going to be a fucking teacher. Someone, please put a bullet in my head the day I walk into a highschool classroom and speak the words, "Open your textbooks to page..." Whatever. Actually, with my personality it would be more to the lines of "Listen you shit breathing little pissants, open your goddamn textbooks to page 44 and  the first bastard that can't discern "their" from  "they're" or  "there," gets a stick in the eye, got it?" That said, we've come full circle.

Writers write, and if I'm not going to be teaching, then I'm going to be writing.
Be it mindless drivel, crappy emo wining, insane shouting, muddled ranting, or just sports talk, it doesn't matter: I must write.

I once read Brian K. Vaughn write that there is no such thing as writer's block. He said writer's block meant that you couldn't write and no self-respecting writer should ever get there because if you're a writer, then you should be writing. His point was that even if you can't think of anything, you just hit the keys and get something out there. Even if you're off subject, you just keep going until you're back on track.

And since Vaughn is a much better writer than I, it will be done. I want to BE a writer, so I'll write.

Every day.

Or so I tell myself. (we'll see how it goes)

Can't hurt that much can it?

...

...

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Can it?



Well, fuck. this should be interesting.
this is either the start of something really good or the beginning of a pitiful crash & burn.