04 October, 2010

Kill Me Now, I'm A Bad Person

What a janky mess this blog has become. Once the sparkle of my eye, I have now let it degenerate into that neighbor's yard filled with old lawn mowers and pickup trucks that the homeowners association so abhors. 
But so much has happened since I last blogged, I just don't even know where to begin. So many ups, so many downs and so many THOUSANDS of miles traveled. 

I've sent a brother off to Germany to teach religion. I started a blog about that whole shebang too and left that little blogging adventure to rot and die alone like everything else I've neglected. 

We bought a car and put over 10,000 comfortably traveled miles on it in about 6 months time. We hit up Portland in it for the second time this summer and then took the long way home to Utah via Monterey, CA where we visited some friends in the Air Force and had a generally fun, relaxing time. 

While traveling, my carefully laid plans to land myself a job panned out and I excitedly hitched my wagon to the number one advertising/design shop in Salt Lake City. You may have never heard of them, but that is exactly what they want you to believe. We are the talented millionaire son/daughter you never knew you had. You went off to war in the 60's and 50 years later, you get sucker punched in the throat by some feisty, cranky, millionaire son you apparently fathered and forgot about. We come at you with a left hook so quick, you're on your back with our bare, stinky foot in your mouth demanding you pay attention to us from now on. You oblige of course. 

What was that last bit about? I'm on a bunch of medication for obesity, depression, vitamin D deficiency, ADHD and sleep deprivation. I should probably go back and read that madness, but...moving on. 

Olin, the child of my baby mamma, is near the stage of walking and is currently ripping down and ingesting night lights, errant spoons, Chapstick tubes, bits of crumbled deodorant and gum wrappers faster than we can keep up with him. He's 10 months old and I've completely forgot he existed at least twice so far while I was tasked with watching him. He didn't get hurt, at least not as far as I am willing to admit, but who's to say what bits of garbage he's Hoovered up off the floor while I accidentally turned a blind eye?

So that is that my friends. Things are on the up and up and we are happy to announce that we are doing well. We fight less, kiss more, blame each other less, help each other more. I'm referring to my wife and I if that wasn't clear. And with this positive uptick in life, we prepare to take over the world...finally. I'm still aiming to own my own helicopter. I'd be sad if in 5 years I didn't have a nicer car than the 1996 Buick Regal I drive today. 
Really, what more is there?

So with this comes a healthy and much needed abandonment of my attempt at lazy Tumblr blogging and a renaissance of the blogger account. I'll bring you back up to speed best I can and hopefully do my lonely brother in Germany a favor by informing the world about his goings on, as they are very interesting. 

I hope you'll stay tuned and belittle me to tears if I dare try and fail at this again. I love to write and I love listening to myself talk, so really, I need this more than anyone.


23 June, 2010

And We're Live

Elder Sean Preston Tanner's mission blog is now live.

He just went into the Missionary Training Center (MTC) today, so the journey has just begun.
But check back regularly for updates on all of his experiences and what he is seeing over there
in Germany.

It's Not About Me Anymore (For Now)

I'm going to forgo the promotions to reroute you to my Tumblr blog for this blog post. And "reroute" is a bad word because I don't want all of you to go elsewhere. I actually really like this blog and am very proud of what we've created together here.

But this isn't about me. It's about a kid named Sean Tanner who happens to be my little brother. No, it's true, he really is my brother. Many of you assume that he is a bastard in the most literally sense of the word because of his olive dark skin, athletic build and foreigner good looks. But he is indeed my flesh and blood. I may be fat, balding, pale and handsome only to my wife and mother, but underneath, Sean and I are of the same blood.

Sean Tanner, that little brother of mine, enters the missionary training center (MTC) in Provo, UT today in preparation to serve a 2 year stint as a church missionary sharing the message of our church with the people of Germany. He'll be in the MTC for 2 months, maybe more, brushing up on the teachings of our church and to an even greater extent, learning as much German as a person can before being thrown into the work of teaching people in German full time.

So this is your official notice of a new Blogger blog detailing the life and times of Elder Sean Tanner the church missionary ("Elder" is a calling in the church giving to missionaries). Once it is up and running, I will post the URL and promote it heavily. I'll do my best to stay current on his goings-on and will regularly post photos of his experiences. 

If you are unfamiliar with our church or are simply wondering why someone would leave their family for two solid years to teach people about religion at the age of 19 in a foreign country, hit me up with a comment and we'll get in touch and I'll explain the whole crazy experience to you. 

16 June, 2010

Lazy Blog

Yeah, this new Tumblr blog of mine seems to be going well. It requires minimal effort yet seems to pack a more entertaining punch.
When I linked to my Tumblr blog in my last post, it was linked to a single entry which could have been confusing to some people (I myself am still figuring it all out), so I've conveniently packed this post with multiple Tumblr hypertext links they take you to my entire Tumblr blog and not just a single post.

In other news, if you've got some time and a penchent for big words and the discovery and understanding subcultures, this NYT article is fascinating. After the Weev interview, it gets less interesting, so dont feel bad stopping there.


15 June, 2010

Something Newer

First off, I'm just going to pretend like I don't see the elephant in the room taking big, stinky, elephant-sized dumps that remind us all that I promised to start a new serial blog run.
I'm going to pretend like I haven't been getting biting comments criticizing me for promising content that I never provided. 

Instead, I'm going to direct you to my new Tumblr account (click on the word you n00b) which is guaranteed to carry more and better content. I still want to blog here in long form, but my life has become such that long form blogging is more difficult for me. It's not so much that I can't scavenge the time for it throughout the day, its that I struggle to get emotionally invested in it like I used to be able to. 

I'm an intern again at another major ad agency right now and that brings on stresses of competency, performance, impressions, etc. 

I'm the new dad of a 7 month old rock star, and that brings all sorts of new issues that I wont even BEGIN to try to describe, because it is too intricate and complex to explain to anyone who isn't married with a new baby. Doesn't help that I'm an ignoramus either. 

So long story short, Tumblr works better for me right now. It get's fed my daily stream of twitter updates and functions more as my mental cork board than a formal blog ever could. 

With that said, please come visit me. If you're on Tumblr add me as a friend. But please don't stop sending me threatening comments and emails pertaining to this blog. I want to stay here and I want to keep pecking away at long form. It's right for me and I don't want to leave it behind completely. 

01 June, 2010

Step Off

So people keep gettin' up in my bi'ness about not posting today.
Well I realized a flaw in my daily blog serial plan: The topic of conversation requires that I blog the day after about the current day. So today is kind of a...dead day. There isn't anything to write about today because today is still today and still happening. So tomorrow, you'll hear all about today and that will be fantastic I 'spose.

But for today, just know that you will probably be immensely let down. Kinda like the finale of LOST as a certain someone reminded me in reference to my lack of blog post today. I'm not sure how to make this new blog series entertaining or witty anyway, so readership will probably drop drastically. Even the spammers and search bots will probably lose interest in combing my blog and posting comments that lead me to Canadian pharmacies and websites selling authentic Prada and Gucci bags at unheard of prices. I'll miss those comments the most.

But I gotta get my blog on. It's for my health and my well being. I really have to thank Scott at StruckAxiom in Salt Lake City, Utah for inadvertently giving me the idea for this disastrously boring idea. It's him you should blame if my blog falls out of favor with you and your RSS feed provider.

31 May, 2010

Serial Blogging Begins

Random Picture:
Picture of Hillary Duff. Some people 
think your teeth look weird. 
They are wrong. 

Tomorrow I'm going to start a new serial blog run. Meaning I'm going to start a series that I update everyday. It probably wont be exciting, but it'll be honest and isn't transparency really what we're all looking for when it comes to entertainment anyway?

27 May, 2010


I've left you desperately hanging. Following my blog is about as big of a let down as investing 6 years into a television show that ends with a confusing and muddled realization that everyone was dead...or not.

Anyway, I just want to congratulate all the talented, creative and most importantly, hard working people in this world. I just got out of a quick and dirty company meeting where some of the newer folks and interns had to do an informal presentation about themselves and show some of the creative work they have done in the past.
The kid I had to follow, and awesome kid named Tim, was actually recruited to come work for us. He ran his own design company for a few years, doing design and interactive work for big record labels among many other things. He also dabbled in starting his own t-shirt company. As a skateboarder, he also designs his own skateboards. He was damn near the most amazing person I've ever met. My only question after his presentation was, "What haven't you done?"

And then there was me. How could I follow that? I haven't started a company or dabbled in much anything else other than playing XBOX and trying to remember to shower everyday every other day. I've dabbled in dieting, dabbled in graduating from college and dabbled in trying to go green. But I've got nothing on these guys. Standing up after Tim was like pulling up to gang of bullet bikers on a Vespa. Sure, we've both got two wheels and an engine between our legs, but someone in the picture is lacking.

But I sweat my way through it. Literally. I finished and embraced the respite of someone else getting up to present while I tried to cool down and dry off. But it just kept getting worse. I ended up getting sandwiched between Tim and another talented fellow named Mike. One of three Mikes in our office, Mike is a programmer and immediately jumped in to showing off some of his incredible website design work. He too ran his own operation, successful to the extent of being crushing. He also worked at an awesome company that was tapped to create an incredible website for a major US insurance company. Oh man, Tim and Mike are slaughtering me.

But even then, it wasn't over. After Tim was Mike and after Mike was Eric and after Eric was....you get it. I'm feeling a little useless right about now. Whatever talent or creativity I might possess is of zero value to me or any employer if I can't show it, prove it or manifest it tangibly to show them how friggin' great I am. My faith in myself is sufficiently deflated as well.

Bottom line is, I'm amazed at the talent drummed up here at this lil' ol' company that I'm working at in lil' ol' Salt Lake City, Utah of all places. They are just raking in the talent and building a brick house of creatives.
I was hoping to be another brick in the wall, but after what I've seen today, I really can't see myself as anything more than...well, my experience with masonry is too limited to think of some comparable element in a brick wall that could represent my sense of uselessness in the brick-wall building process.

I feel sucky.

28 April, 2010

Love, Pogs and Rollerblades

I turned this in for an english assignment in college. Just stumbled across it in my email.
Figured I'd pull it out of the archives and post it up for the world to see. I don't think I've posted this previously...at least I hope not. 

Love is a fickle fruit. It appears delicious and beautiful on the outside, but often is a terrible let down once tasted. Fortunately for me, I always feared the taste of fruit, so love was a fleeting emotion all through my early life. But make no mistake, I was no stranger to love. I'd lie awake at night listening to the sweet melodies and love laden lyrics of The Cranberries (incidentally a band named for fruit), dreaming of my eternal union with Betty Sue.
The lyrics spoke to me and with every line, I could see Betty and I in some romantic playground setting.
It was 4th grade and I was madly in love.

Betty was the girl and I was the husky, funny kid who sucked at sports. I'd nestle down on the grass in my MC Hammer style pants and play pogs while the other children frolicked. I'd see her everyday out on the courts, playing with the cool kids. The funny kids. The kids that when you grew up, you either loved or hated. For now though, I was just jealous of the time they got to spend with her.

One day the daydream collapsed. I was standing under The Big Slide, basking in it's sun-cast shadow when Jenny Greenland and two other girls walked up to me. This was odd because although I wasn't necessarily attracted to Jenny, she was on my "cute girls" list. More importantly, she was the right hand girl of Betty Sue and this is what took the wind right out of my lungs.

"Do you like Betty," she asked matter-of-factly with no introduction.
I panicked. I threw up a little in the back of my throat and did the only thing a sane boy, madly in love with the hottest girl in school could do; I lied.
"No," I said quickly; the sound of a desert-dry mouth gagging me a bit as it stumbled out.
"Really?" Apparently they had heard otherwise and were somehow extremely brave to just waltz over and ask me.
"Absolutely not," I retorted with a hint of forced disgust.

And with that, answer in hand, they walked away. Once my heart started beating again, it sank to my loins and broke just a bit. The combination of a broken, sinking heart made me feel like I'd been hit in the groin by a wayward four-square ball. I just stood there in the shade contemplating what I had just executed. For it was indeed an execution. A decapitation of love, of opportunity and chance.

The very next year, Peter Buttcheese moved into the school boundaries from California. Word was his family had sold their house to Magic Johnson or Michael Jordan or something before moving to Utah. He was blond and had the coolest Rollerblade MacroBlades I'd ever seen. They were expensive. It was no surprise that within a short period, he and Betty were "going out." I never looked at love the same again.

I considered going gay, but I was way too young to even know what that really was. So I just sulked around and my humor grew bitter and sarcastic. The tone a man carries when he'd lost everything he had to live for.
Somehow I moved on, but still to this day, I look back at that sub-slide encounter with Jenny Greenland with the slightest stench of sadness and wonder what really could have been.

29 March, 2010

What Does This Mean? Is It Supposed To Make Sense?

I liken my life to driving on the freeway in a sub-compact with a commercial sized dumpster welded to my front bumper. It's a familiar freeway--I know the road and which direction I'm headed. But ultimately, I can't see 3 inches past my hood, let alone the sweeping left I'm pretty sure is coming up after the next rest stop. It's heavy, it's big and I'm pushing it. Rather than bringing my baggage along in tow, I push it around blindly. I guess that's what that's supposed to mean.

This isn't a nightmare, it's an analogy that drifted into my brain while I was wide awake. My nightmares are flaccid, far-fetched fantasies that are forgotten before they are finished. It's the prospect of having to live in reality that actually scares me the most.

Elm Street has got nothin' on Main Street when a baby, debt and unemployment are haunting you all day long. Heck, Elm Street looks like Wisteria Lane when compared even to the bloody nightmare taking place on Wall Street these days. But enough with all the streets. I've never even seen Nightmare On Elm Street, because like I said, real life is scary enough.

I've also come to discover that playing Call of Duty does not solve all your problems. Even after 6 hours of pwnage (delivering and receiving) the moment that green Microsoft machine of life turns off, you're problems are still standing there waiting for you to come back and man-handle them.

It's a terrible thing. Frightening even. Logic would tell you that if you run far enough and fast enough, you should be able to escape your problems in life. It's not so. Logic does not apply. But lately, most things in life I come across cannot be solved by logic alone. Or could it be that my logic is faulty? No, that's impossible, I'm always right. Just ask my wife.

Photo by the amazing Glenn Jones

03 March, 2010

I've Got A Beard, You've Got A Beard...IT'S A CLUB!

You want to know why I am awesome? I have a beard.
A beard makes you awesome in many, many social circles and even outside those choice circles, the beard is a respected accoutrement.
I have one. And a mustache. It's one, whole, unified group of hair. Not one of those Backstreet Boys style eyebrow-pencil-beards that look drawn on and require a stylist to maintain. No it's a Man Beard for sure, bordering on Taliban-esque density and bushiness.

If you read my previous post, the manifesto, you'll know that I assume things about myself. But other than assuming that I am likable and funny, I also assume that people who share things in common with me realize or care that they share something in common with me.

For example, when I'm cruising on a motorcycle, it's pretty safe to assume the feeling is mutual. Motorcycle people tend to acknowledge the awesomeness of one another pretty regularly and without complaint. 
With cars though, I have had less success. When I owned a rare 1997 Subaru SVX a few years ago, I would literally chase other SVX owners down, risking life, limb and a clean driving record just to give them a thumbs up or an engine rev. This was disastrous and embarrassing nine times out of ten. I assumed that owning a poor man's exoticar like the SVX meant people cared, but I just ended up making a monkey of myself.

This assumption seems to carry over into the realm of beards too. I feel compelled almost daily to point at fellow beardys, give a thumbs up once I've caught their eye and then stroke my beard to complete the non-verbal picture for them as if to say, "Hey, nice beard sir. I've got one too. Cheers."

But another thing that seems to be true about a vast majority of the bearded masses is that they would probably kill you if you caught their eye and then stroked your beard at them. Think about it. What kid of people have beards?

Ayatollah Khomeini

Osama bin Laden

Theodore Kaczynski (AKA The Unabomber)

Crazy Joaquin Phoenix

Evil Spock 

So it looks like I'm going to need to tone it down a bit or at least keep my delusions of beard-club status to myself because one thing is for sure, I'm not shaving this beard off, no way no how. 

19 February, 2010

Could This Be My Manifesto?

I wish I could blame my public embarrassments and mistakes on a crushing case of closet alcoholism or a debilitating addiction to prescription drugs (though the latter has some truth to it), but really I've got no white flag of defeat I can raise.  Nothing to blame.

When it comes to drunkenness, I'm as dry as a kite flying in the parched winds of Chile's Atacama Desert. And drug abuse, well gosh now, can you blame a guy for wanting to get some sleep at night and then needing a pick-me-up the next day? Of course you can't.

But really, the bigger issue here is my consistent ability to embarrass myself publicly on a regular basis. On occasion it's something seriously blush worthy, but more often it's just a case of, "why did I do that?" or maybe "where was my head at?"
I blame it on my biggest character flaw: misguided confidence that I am deemed funny and likable by the people around me.

Think about it, if you knew that everyone genuinely liked you and thought you were funny, it would be hard to do wrong. Funny people are expected to say funny, often outlandish things and when their mouth opens, people are going to laugh at almost anything that falls out. They are conditioned to without realizing it. Their brain says, "I know this guy is funny, so whatever he says will probably make me laugh." That's why when funny people get genuinely angry, it's scary as hell because it's so far from your expectations.

Add to this humor a sense of likability and and you've created a monster. Likability and funny don't always go hand in hand though. I know a lot of hilarious people that put me in stitches every time I see them, but when I'm not laughing, I can't stand the sight of them. And there are a lot of people out there that I adore like my own mother who couldn't put an unforced smile on my face if their life depended on it.
And then there is me, the likable humorist...in my eyes at least.
Fake it til you make it, they say.
If you believe, you can achieve.
If you build it they will come.
But it doesn't always work like that. Mass emails with a pithy discourse and a half cocked desperate plea don't always fly and bring sympathetic grins to the receivers faces. Sticking your foot in your mouth and then trying to make that foot dance in front of the people you've just shocked doesn't always make them smile and clap in instant forgiveness. 

But it's ok. I'm in this for me. As long as I keep patching the holes in my imaginary world, the light of reality can never seep in and ruin my utopian world. It's real for me as long as I decide it's real.
If I shoosh you, it's because I fear you may undermine my safely sheltered mental image of the situation at hand.
If I don't ask for your opinion, it might be because I know what you're going to say and my world can't bear to hear it.
If I walk away from you in mid sentence, it may be for my own good.
So, forgive me now and forever hold your peace. I love you all dearly and look up to more of you than you know. You're talented, handsome, artistic, devoted, charming, passionate and driven and I love that about you, you, you and you. You're wonderful. And as long as you keep your thoughts and opinions to yourself, I can be all those things too, if only in my head.
Here's to me. Cheers.

18 February, 2010

I Love That Funny Lesbian But...

The only thing worse than not being able to get tickets to see the Ellen Show is getting tickets to the Ellen Show, getting your name called to come play a game in which you could win some seriously awesome prizes and then unceremoniously losing.
Oprah plays it right. Rather than having to play the role of good guy AND bad guy, she just gives everyone a prize every time. Where Ellen forces you to compete against a fellow audience member, Oprah forces you to fight the urge to kiss your neighbor when you find out your leaving with a copy of Keith Urban's new album and a round trip vacation to Barbados.
I'll go with Oprah any day. I can't stand confrontation or the crushing weight of a stranger losing big on national television. I started losing my hair and had to start watching my blood pressure when I started watching The Price Is Right every day. The Showcase Showdown ends up being the Showcase Letdown for me. I perpetually cheer for the underdog and the underdog rarely comes through for me.
So Ellen, cut it out. Oprah is a bore and The Doctors don't give any prizes away, so please, PLEASE just let everyone win because it's wreaking havoc on my nervous system.

16 February, 2010

And We're Back

Hey there. Remember me? Sure you do. I'm the one that had a mental breakdown a couple months ago. What's that you say? Yes, yes it was actually exactly 2 months ago that I blogged last.
Did I plan this, you ask, coming back to the blog on the exact two-month anniversary of my departure? We'll, yes and no.
When I realized I could triumphantly return on a quasi important date, I figured why not. I needed a little push and hitting the blog on a specific date seemed to fulfill that requirement.

So here it is. Nothing spectacular. Nothing grandiose. Just me saying hello. I had wanted to chat with you about my frustrations with bar soaps and body washes that are marketed specifically to men. I really had because I'm terribly frustrated. So frustrated in fact that I've invented a new kind of bar soap.
But we won't get into that.

I'll be honest, I jammed the living daylights out of my right-hand ring finger this morning playing basketball at the city rec center. The pain and swelling has proven prohibitive to say the least. Not to mention that I feel sick and toasty still from some serious over exertion.

If you know me, you know I don't play basketball. Not in the sense that I literally do not play it, but that I am physically, emotionally and spiritually incapable of successfully participating in it. I try, I really do try, but all the genes inside of me that allowed me win a jr. golf tournament for my age bracket back in the day have forced out any possibly of me carrying basketball genes as well.

So essentially, I run around. Or jog. Well really I just end up walking and using my pervasive sweating to dissuade other players from getting too close to me. Oh, and I sure yell a lot. I'll hustle as close as I can to someone who is about to shoot and then yell something monosyllabic like, "HAYBSHSTAK!" and throw an arm or two in the air. It's kind of pathetic, by my friends are glad to have me there.

And really that's what it all comes down to. So to call out my homies:
(But for all that is good and holy, give me a week or so to recover.)

16 December, 2009

When Logan Get's Real

What would happen if I disconnected from the "digital world" for a while?
I am very seriously considering it. I'm seriously considering severing all connections to the digital world...other than email and basic internet service.

You dare cry foul? Well eff you.
You ask how I might sever myself from the "digital world" whilst still maintaining internet and basic email? Come on, be serious here. Email has been around since the 1970's and has been a part of daily life for many of us for almost 20 years.
Same with the internet.
I mean I remember logging on to Prodigy, akin to AOL, back on my dad's old Apple Performa 475 using what was probably a 14.4kbit/s modem. I was probably 9.

So no, email is no longer part of the "digital world" because in my life, it's just been around way too long. I've sent THOUSANDS more emails in my lifetime than I ever have, or could ever hope to send of the paper kind. And without the internet, email doesn't work. So it's lumped in too.
So to recap...
Eff you.

No the nebula of the "digital world" is something more today. It is social. It is viral. It is twitter trends, facebook statuses and blog posts. E-commerce (which is old people speak for online shopping) now stands on level ground with brick-and-mortar Black Friday sales. The age of the newspaper is dying with our aging grandfathers. The Kindle and Nook are filling niches we never knew needed nurturing. Rather than pay $18.95 for book to read, we now pay $300 for a device that lets us buy and view a book digitally that we still pay $18.95 for.
What the hell?

We spend money to save money and aspire to things that we used to be able to afford before the economy took a nose dive. Will I ever be able to afford a house? Will I ever be able to afford even the 30% down payment on the house that I use to not be able to afford? Did my earning potential just duck below another glass ceiling?

So do I really have time to be worrying about Twitter Trends? Does anyone really care about my facebook status? Is linking my twitter feed with my facebook status updates to kill two birds with one stone really as desperately pathetic as it sounds?
If I fail to blog, will anyone miss anything because I didn't write it down and record it for the whole world to see?

Is it possible that my world could actually feel more fulfilling if I tried cramming less into it?
Would I have more time?
Would I feel more alone?
What am I really getting out of this?

So, to sever the tie, or to not sever the tie...that is the question.

Everything I know about advertising, networking, connections, socializing, relationships and inter-connectivity begs me not to do it.
Everything I know about...well, everything else, says it might just be getting in the way.