The closest online presence that I can find that’s similar to what I try to do is the “blog” of Robert Greene, author of The 48 Laws of Power, The Art of Seduction and other big, thick books that take several months to read through and double as flotation devices or mugger deterrents.  Greene’s site is a collection of well-researched essays on a large number of sociopolitical topics that are so dense that one might need a knife to cut through the layers of content to fully understand his theses.  While I’d rather not compare the work of an asterisk-free New York Times bestselling author with a site that peaked creatively in a story about ice cream barf, the broad strokes of our sites are the same.  Neither of us are bloggers because we don’t really blog.

Some of you are probably wondering what donuts have to do with all of this.

It was recently brought to my attention that in a horribly misguided attempt at cross-promotional campaigning, Dunkin’ Donuts released limited-edition Captain America donuts to celebrate the release of the new movie.  Now, when I say “Captain America donuts,” I mean that literally – when I bought my star-shaped, jelly-filled, frosted, star-spangle sprinkled carb bomb, the sign on the rack identified the donuts as “Captain America.”

With my first bite, I expected the tastes of freedom, liberty and bald eagle’s tears, hoping that they weren’t being too literal and had kept the donuts on ice for over 70 years (or however long that would be in Donut Time).  Instead, I tasted high fructose corn syrup, bleached flour, red dye #40, a host of artificial and natural flavorings, a tinge of regret, and a little bit of indigestion.  There was nothing special or remarkable about Cap’s donut, aside from its vaguely patriotic theme that will serve the chain well on future July Fourths.

Conversely, I saw the Captain America movie this weekend, and it was delightful.  Not just because Chris Evans surprised the heck out of me by being fantastic in his leading-man turn, nor due to Joe Johnston proving that The Rocketeer would have been a bigger hit if they’d given him a few more years, but because it was a genuinely good movie, and great Summer popcorn fare.  Aside from the name and color similarities, there was nothing connecting the Captain America donut to the Captain America movie.

The disparity between the two is about as wide as the one between this “blog” and an actual blog.

If I had my druthers, I would probably change the format of the site – increase time between posts for fuller, more in-depth writings.  But then again, having a blog that’s an actual blog might be a good thing – it’s taken me over 500 words in this post alone just to say that I talk too much.  Either way, something needs to change with NMH - if you have any opinions, suggestions or wisdom to offer, sound off in the comments.

You’d think that after three weeks off, I’d be ready to go with a new post for today, having recharged my creative batteries and set everything up for more NMH goodness.  Well, about that…

Yesterday was my birthday, and I decided to take the evening off from finishing the post I’d been working on.  Updates will resume soon.

And for those keeping track of things, this is indeed post #500, but it’s really not.  All will be explained in due time…

When guests come by and take the tour, they invariably make their way to the balcony and comment on the secluded nature of my spot and the view of the park.  ”Can you see the mountains from here too?” they ask.  ”Well, I’ll be able to do that in the fall or the winter,” I reply.  ”Whenever the leaves fall off.”

At least, that’s my guess.  For all I know, it’s an evergreen, or it might have so many spindly branches that even with the leaves out of the way, all I’ll see is a big ol’ plant outside.  I’m not paying for Spectacular Scenic Views as a part of my rent, but I wonder if it would be nicer to have a less foliage-obscured vantage point.

It’s a pretty silly thing to worry about; I could literally walk to the pavement on the other side of the tree and see the mountains.  It’s not quite on my balcony, but only a dozen or so steps would resolve that little issue without waiting for climate or seasonal change.  Or maybe I could borrow a saw from my dad and hack away at a few of the closer bits of the tree.  The fact that 1/4 of my balcony’s panoramic view is obscured by a tree is quite infuriating at times.

Then again, it’s pretty nice to have a bit of extra privacy in front of the balcony, and the shade from the tree happens to hit a few uncovered spots that I’ve used a few times.  If a lack of a complete view is the worst complaint I can make right now, then it’s not much of a complaint at all.  Maybe I’ll have my view in a few months anyway, when the leaves fall off.

50 blocks is the difference between adolescence and adulthood.  It’s the space between dependencies and independence.  It’s the starting line for self-reliance and full control.  It’s-

Oh, forget this horse-crap. I’m moving.

For those who missed the riveting tale, I basically failed at life two years ago and had to move back in with my parents.  It hasn’t been terrible, but at the same time, I’ve wanted to get out and move on to the “grown-up” stage of my life.  Sleeping in the same bed I had in high school was a torturous reminder of how far I had to go in life, and how far short I was from where I had imagined and planned to be when I graduated college.

As of this coming Saturday, that will no longer be the case.

I found a swanky one-bedroom apartment in a good complex that’s pretty close to work, and am in the process of realizing that I now need to buy all those little things that I took for granted, like soap dispensers, towels and toilet paper.  Also, furniture.  It’s been interesting, to say the least.

Hopefully, moving and getting set up shouldn’t take too long, but I will definitely be without Internet for a good part of next week, so you may be post-less during that time.  One post and then a week-long break; interesting way to kick off year two, right?

But enough about me, let’s talk about the blog!

Aside from downgrading the blog post output (150 as compared with the previous year’s 340), the site has been pretty much the same.  I’ve had a chance to meet a number of Internet blog friends in real life, and some of them are awesome! Others are okay, and other-others appear to be working on a long-form, Catfish-like deception to the Internet at large.  Still, it’s nice to interact with folks in a way that’s different from chat windows and Skype, even if it turns out that some of ‘em kinda suck.

It was interesting trying a different level of community involvement; in between people getting on my case for donating to charity and rebooting the NMH Facebook page just in time for its first-ever contest, things got a little more interactive, instead of me blogging at you and occasionally responding to comments like a week after they were posted.  I’m working on a few things to improve the whole blogger/reader thing we’ve got going on, and welcome any comments, (polite) criticism and suggestions.

Speaking of contests and moving, I’ve decided to combine the two.

That’s right – it’s time for The NMH Second Birthday Contest!

Just become a fan of the blog on Facebook, and you’ll be automatically entered to win a box full of random goodies that I’ve scrounged up whilst moving – a smattering of movies, cds, books and other goodies.  No odd socks or dilapidated action figures here!

Thanks to everyone who’s been reading, Tweeting, Facebooking, commenting, emailing, linking, and supporting the blog over the past two years.  Without you, this page would be the equivalent of a hobo on a street corner shouting random life lessons at pedestrians.

I’m going to be taking the next week, as I’m in the middle of taking care of a few non-bloggy things that have kept me distracted recently.  Posts resume next Thursday.

In the meantime, here’s a version of an original sketch that I received from comic book artist extraordinaire Jim Mahfood about 10 years ago that I found on an old laptop from my Photoshop experimenting days.  I think my request was “a dude with a bag over his head,” for reasons that are still a bit unclear to me today.  Draw your own conclusions!

If you’ve never seen the Charlton Heston movie or the cartoon, Passover is about the freedom of the Jews from Egyptian oppression (and possible pyramid-building, depending on who you ask) and is a bit closer to Thanksgiving in relation to some of its themes.  However, the thing that most people remember about Passover is that it’s The Atkins Holiday.  The rules are as follows: no leavened bread (and rice and beans as well, for certain sects), an increase in prayer, and (sometimes) an increase in consumption of Kosher meals.

When I was younger, this was THE WORST THING EVER.

Without leavening, the bread of choice for most Passover-celebrators is matzo, a Biblical form of cardboard.  While it purports to be made of the same things as bread (sans lifting agents), it’s a lot more likely that it was a really lousy cracker that an ancient Israelite tried to pass off as the fault of Moses.  ”Joseph, I’m telling you that this woulda been bread!  But Mister Split The Red Sea over there rushed me, so I didn’t have time to leaven it.  Take it up with that guy when he comes back from whatever the heck he’s doing on that mountain.”

Life for a kid without leavening means that you can’t have cake, cookies, sandwiches, macaroni, and about 90% of the starchy diet of the average youth.  Sure, there’s an entire industry built around making “Passover-friendly” cake mixes and such, but it’s like having a low-fat donut; it doesn’t taste right, so much as passable.  Of course, this all happened before I realized what Passover restrictions truly were.

One of the best things about living in a global society is that the trade between cultures includes not just culture, technology and material goods, but cooking methods as well.  The Internet helps with that too.

In other words, Passover doesn’t have to be that bad!  Despite the simple-sounding restrictions that can cut a lot of items out of one’s diet, there are many more that observing Jews overlook out of deference to a generations-long tradition of gefilte fish and pot roast.  It simply became a habit to eat these things, and up until a few years ago, I had never even considered that foods like oatmeal, tacos, ice cream, kabobs and barbecue were acceptable under the holiday’s restrictions.

Then again, this practice is hardly unique.  People miss the forest for the trees all the time, on everything from using old passwords on work computers after they were just changed to sticking with brand preferences without investigating alternatives.  Once a routine is set, no matter how unpleasant, it’s hard to break out of it.  Sometimes, it can take an event of monumental importance to shift out of old ways of thinking.  Other times, it’s as simple as someone asking, “So on Passover, you can eat tacos because they’re made with shortening and not leavening, right?”

Dear Reader,

I think that in our heart of hearts, both of us always knew that it would come to this.

After almost 500 posts over nearly two years, I’ve decided that it’s time to give up on Needle, Meet Haystack.  Between the time commitments, my new projects, and a general lack of enthusiasm for writing for this blog, it’s stopped being something that I really want to do.  Coming up with original content that doesn’t riff off of well-worn ground covered by other bloggers is getting too difficult, and frankly, the fun is gone.

It hit me last week that instead of using the site as an escape or a cathartic writing exercise, it has become an unpaid job of exponentially decreasing dividends, in terms of readership, interaction and quality content.  Simply put, it’s a machine that stopped working well, and should head to the scrapyard.

I’d like to thank all of those who have read, linked, subscribed to and shared the site over the years, the bloggers who stopped by for guest posts, and my webhost for keeping the site running.  I appreciate all of the support that you’ve shown me, but it’s time to move on to greener pastures.

I’ve had some requests to create published or compiled work, or even to create content in other media.  But for right now, I need something that I can be proud of, where I feel that my efforts really count.  That’s why, starting next week, Needle, Meet Haystack will no longer be a blog about the random happenings and lessons of life.

Instead, the site will be devoted to my new passion - My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic fanfiction.

I’ve been a Brony ever since I discovered this show three weeks ago (and a member of the Herd for a week), and it has utterly changed my life.  I’ve seen every episode at least six times, and I dream of visiting the magical world of Equestria.  Simply put, there is nothing in this world that I care about more, and I want to devote my free time and energy to sharing that love with the world.

I’ve already written a spec script where Applejack, Twilight Sparkle and Pinkie Pie bake cookies, and it’s probably the greatest thing I’ve ever put to paper.  Come next Tuesday, I’m sure that you’ll agree that the tales of Ponyville and my theory behind the magic of the Cutie Mark.  It’s far superior to anything I could say about self-improvement, pop culture, surviving the workweek and all of that stuff.

NMH was a great learning experience for me, and I’m glad I tried it.  But now, I have to turn my life over to my true passion: ponies.  And if you don’t like it, well…

Hugs & Sparkles,

Andy

After perusing the business, literature, music and humor sections, I came to self-help.  And once I had passed through what must be either a poor re-stocking policy or a very odd sense of humor on the parts of the employees (Karma Sutra, a Donald Trump business book and a Garfield treasury, among others), I noticed the book that I worked on last year, in paperback and hardcover.  Having never received an advance (or any) copy of the book, I decided to grab the cheaper paperback.  And that’s when I noticed this:

Remembering that paperback editions can include revisions and updates, I flipped through the pages to find that my pictures were still there.  And I was still omitted from receiving any credit for my contribution.  To explain how I could be completely discounted from any official acknowledgement of writing about 1/3 of a book, we’ll need to dive a few years into the past.

Less than a year after graduation, I was living in Washington, DC, struggling to find a job that could help me pay my absurdly high rent.  I had to leave my previous employer after my contract was up at the end of the 2008 election, and I was desperate.  Desperate enough to enter the Forbidden Zone to all but the bravest and most foolhardy of souls: Craigslist.

It was there that I found a somewhat innocuous job posting for a paid intern/assistant position to someone described as a “Body Language Contributor.”  And unlike many job postings on Craigslist, this one was genuine – I went through three rounds of interviews before getting an official job offer via email (sans contract), where I was informed that I would be getting paid a commission to help book corporate gigs for a motivational speaker with a body language emphasis.  The commission rate seemed solid enough (one gig per month would cover my rent), and I negotiated a low hourly wage for any other duties.  Also, I was told I would get an iPhone.

Instead of working on finding bookings (it turned out that there was a small team doing that already), I found myself doing research, making calls, responding to emails, helping to coach dating and body language seminars, and writing.  Oh, the writing.  When tasked with ghostwriting an article for Monster.com, I churned out a puff piece that my boss thought was amazing.  Suddenly, I was writing her e-newsletters, blog updates, and soon, large sections of the first draft of her book.

It was at this time that I started noticing that I wasn’t getting any time to work on bookings, and had I not negotiated for my pittance of an hourly wage, I would have not been getting paid at all.  Similarly, the costs of transportation to get to and from my apartment in Northwest DC to my boss’ office in Virginia were high enough that by going to work, I was losing money.

During the time of my employment, a second assistant was hired.  However, she was actually billed as an intern, and to my knowledge, only received class credit.  The boss often had me redo her work, whether it was rewriting something or doing further research.

The book itself was a large undertaking.  Despite having found a co-writer, the agreement was that my boss would write the first draft, then send it to the co-writer for “punching-up.”  To me, this sounded more like an extra editor, but I digress.  What this meant was that we needed to create enough content to overfill the projected page count of the book, so it could be pared down through the various revisions and edits to a slimmer volume.  Think of it like someone gorging themselves during the holiday season so they have more weight to lose when they hit the gym after a New Year’s resolution.

When the draft was completed, the book clocked in at over than 300 pages.  Of those 300, I wrote, edited or re-wrote more than 100 of them (including re-writes for almost all of the intern’s content).  A good quantity of the other content was re-purposed from the boss’ earlier ebooks, speeches and articles.  It had become quite exhausting, due in no small part to my dwindling finances and my boss’ inability to pay me with any degree of regularity or consistency.  On the day the book was finished, I gave a verbal two weeks’ notice, and was promptly fired.

This ended my relationship with the book.  Which raises an interesting question: should I get credit for writing any of it?

The only draft that I worked on was a rough draft, and one could easily imagine several rounds of revisions going back and forth from the publisher, editor, co-writer and my former boss.  Despite this, I can easily point to several chapters full of content that appears verbatim from what I originally wrote.

Additionally, I never had any sort of deal with the publisher.  I was hired by the woman whose name is on the cover, and she’s entitled to use what I produced in whatever manner she sees fit.  Monetary compensation was involved.  She did mention the intern in her acknowledgements section, and it could even be argued that I count among the “numerous interns” thanked in that same section.  The only hard proof of my involvement in the book that others could see are two pictures of me demonstrating body language on two separate pages, which could practically double as low-quality surveillance footage from the ’60s:

I know what you’re thinking: Dang, your hair looks terrible, Andy! And I’m not arguing with that.  But the worst thing about contributing to this book, even if the only proof of my involvement is in a couple of grainy photos, is that there’s no recorded proof within the text that I had anything to do with it.  I only found out about the book being a bestseller when I tracked down a copy for myself, grabbing it with a 60% discount over a year after it first came out.

So the real takeaway from the whole experience is this: if you’re going to contribute to someone else’s work or help someone else achieve their goals and dreams in a way that others will see, make sure that you discuss proper recognition.  Otherwise, you might be the only person who knows that you did something great.  Like write a New York Times bestseller.

NOTE: Since I literally just created the group, there’s a pitifully low number of people in it, which means that your chances of winning are ridiculously high right now.

Let’s jump right into it: I did something that I didn’t need to do and was left with more than I needed.  So, I’m going to pass it right on to you, loyal readers!  And I do hope you read, because one of you will win a book!  And all of you will win something!

In the second instance of getting myself published in some fashion over the past two years (the last time, you may recall, was one where I didn’t receive credit for my contribution), I have a few blurbs that made their way into the fantastic book of Jenny Blake, which is called Life After College, based on her blog of the same name.*  In it, Ms. Blake covers everything from employment to finances to relationships, health and home ownership; it’s an excellent guide for anyone looking to get their ducks in a row to organize their life, even if they’re several years removed from the university system.

If you have any friends, family, co-workers, acquaintances, hairdressers or other personal relations who will be graduating, taking big steps in their lives, or are looking for motivation, it’s worth your time to pick up a copy, which you can do by clicking this here link.  It’s actually cheap enough that you could buy a whole box of books to hand out as party favors at your next shindig.

In case you’re wondering, I got an advance copy of the book and it is quite good.  It’s very “digestible” – you can pick it up and flip to any of the different chapters if you want to get some great tips on any particular topic.  Jenny has crafted one of the most interactive books I’ve read – as I went through the different chapters and worked through the sections, it was apparent that she had designed everything so that it could be applicable to anyone, and serves as a powerful organizational tool that can be used to paint a clear picture for the reader about how to achieve their goals.

So now that that’s all been said, I should mention that I also pre-ordered a copy of the book.  Which means that I have two of them.  So I’ll  be giving one of the copies away at random to one of you, free of charge.  Although, admittedly, I’ll be shamelessly self-promoting while doing that.

To enter for a chance to win a free copy of Life After College, just click here to join the new NMH Facebook group.  In one week’s time (that’s March 31), I’ll use a random number generator to pick a random winner!

If you don’t remember, I deleted the old group after using it as a way of generating donations to RAINN back in December.  However, I didn’t want any members to feel beholden to me or the group, or that they’d been tricked into “liking” a page out of altruism.  But this time, It’s a contest.

As an added bonus, every fan of the Facebook page will receive a special, exclusive, limited-time prize after the drawing.  And it sort of relates to the book, too.

You see, Jenny Blake is a huge fan of cupcakes (as anyone who’s read her blog surely knows by this point), especially red velvet ones.  And as a former food blogger (sort of), I pride myself on creating new, innovative recipes.  So, I created a special Life After College Book Giveaway recipe: Molten Red Velvet Cupcakes.

Over the course of several months, it has been perfected to the point of being (mostly) foolproof, and to the best of my knowledge, nobody has ever created (or published) a recipe for this ludicrous treat.  If you’re a fan of the NMH Facebook page by March 31, not only will you be entered to win a free copy of Life After College (suggested retail price: $17.00 US), but you’ll be one of the elite few to have the ability to create a culinary masterpiece** (suggested retail price: Eleventy Kajillion Dollars).

This is shameless (book- and) self-promotion at its finest, folks!  So what are you waiting for? Get clicking!

The (New) Needle, Meet Haystack Facebook Page

Life After College (the book)

*Bonus points if you clicked all those links there.

**Confidential to all the guys reading this: it’s pretty much the best thing you can cook for a lady in the history of ever.

Complacency can be a dangerous thing.  When one gets too used to having their life occur in a singular fashion along a set pattern, any deviation, even with proper warning, comes across as completely unexpected; an aberration that occurred without rhyme or reason.

If one were to, say, live in an area of mostly desert landscapes, where the winters are moderate in their cold temperatures to the point of allowing one to wear shorts in February, the expectation over years of repetition becomes one that things must be similar in other areas.  The trend is one of barbecues and pool parties while others shiver in the snow, bundled under several layers of coats and thermal undergarments.  But the shivering masses exist only in the abstract; they don’t exist within the bubble that forms around a very limited scope of distance thanks to years of sedentary locations.

Even vacations and journeys to new places incur this presupposition; it is assumed that nearby cities and states will follow a similar pattern, thanks to their geographic proximity and reputations for pleasant climates.  A cursory search into weather patterns and the discovery of heightened cold and heavy rainfall will only elicit the most insignificant of responses; packing an umbrella and a light jacket, perhaps.

When reality catches up to the imagined scenario, it’s much worse.  How could this happen, one wonders as the rain pours down sideways thanks to cold gusts of wind that shake palm trees to unreasonable angles.  Since when is the weather in Los Angeles this lousy in March? Once again, a travel-sized umbrella flips inside-out, and damp legs shiver as jeans continue to get soaked.  Preparations were made and warning was given, and yet the reality seems shocking and random.  The weather reports were a Trojan Horse, designed to lull travellers into a false sense of security that what they would pack would be enough.  Why bring non-porous cross-trainers?  It’s not like water could easily enter through the vent holes on the top of the sneakers to soak the feet and socks within.

Then, a foot comes down a little too close to the gutter, and water invades what was believed to be a secure housing for one’s lowest extremities.  Suddenly, an evening that started with so much promise is marred by the sloosh sloosh of a soggy sock floating inside of a wet shoe.

Maybe next time the Weather Channel tells me that there will be a 100% chance of rain, I’ll bring better shoes.