Hello world! They innocently proclaim… and soon are they relegated to the island of misfit blogs.
Dead blogs are beautiful reminders of the creative impulse that lies in all of us, and stern reminders that only hard work begets real results.
This blog, long forgotten, will reemerge, like Brigadoon, to mix once more with the world that has passed it by to announce:
Jeff Jablonski, tenor, has hung out his shingle to teach voice lessons and piano lessons in Lombard, IL. He wouldn’t mind drawing clients from Glen Ellyn, La Grange, Elmhurst, and Villa Park as well.
Unlike this blog, however, this endeavor will flourish because of the lessons learned from dead blogs everywhere, bless them. So singers, learn to sing with a song of thanksgiving for those creative gardens that fell into neglect. We will cultivate our voice to sing your praises, and the praises of beauty.
Are they cute or what? They probably can’t spell entrepreneurship, unless they are budding Kavya Shivashankars. If you can, you are probably adult enough to actually start a “real” business, whichs is a beautiful thing.
Recently, (with the immeasurable help from my brothers) I launched a publishing company called MJMbooks that will print customized children’s books for proud parents and doting relatives. What sets it apart from the terrible versions of other personalized children’s books is the level of customization. Customers can choose from hundreds of combinations of images to find one that matches their child. Most other custom children’s books only allow for the name to be replaced, so we think we’ve got a special product catalogue that will be especially popular as a Christmas of birthday gift.
It has been an empowering journey to go from making a cute Christmas present for my niece to making it available to the world on the interwebs and I have felt a sense of pride and connectedness to the American Dream and Capitalism. The Boy Scout in me is saluting the flag right now. The wholesome sense of empowerment, and can-do attitude that entrepreneurship breeds is truly a beautiful thing.
Here’s a semi-funny cartoon that I made all by myself. Doing things yourself reminds you of the infinite possibilities in your life. I bet you never knew you could install that sink, but you did. And now that you’ve done that, you feel confident that building that bookshelf is well within your capacity. In an age where people feel intimidated to venture too far from their particular skill set and defer constantly to “experts”, doing it yourself is empowering, enjoyable, and best of all, cheap. Granted, there are some things that you should not do yourself. For instace, dentristy, and pyrotechnics. But greivous bodily harm aside, doing it yourself is overall very positive.
Not to be confused with Shame which is not at all beautiful, Guilt can produce justice, kindness, and deterrence from evil. Sure, guilt may be manipulative, and doesn’t feel very nice, but it’s dark nature more often than not seems to give birth to good. This is, of course, a paradox which instantly makes Guilt intriguing (a very close cousin to Beautiful). Guilt is visceral. Guilt is primal. “I shouldn’t have done that,” can resonate boneshakingly deep within us even if we are otherwise unscathed (or have even profited) by our misdeeds. You can interpret it as an evolutionary tool that smooths social situations and furthers cooperation and helps ensure species survival or as the Voice of God telling us the difference between righteousness and sin. Either way, it’s something special, if a bit rough around the edges.
Guilt gets it’s mention in the Tribute to Beautiful Things because it is precisely why I am writing another post. It has been so long since the last post, that I felt a sense of guilt at my neglecting my quest and abandoning my readers. Ha ha, “readers”. Stay tuned for the next post, “Beautiful Thing no. 245: Inflated Senses of Importance.”
Maybe it’s Chicago weather-induced cabin fever or just a regular old epiphany, but just the other day I said to myself, “Damn it. I miss my Friends!” This post perhaps marks a turning point in this blogs illustrious history. From it’s humble beginnings, this blog has sought to catalogue one by one beautiful objects and concepts, culminating in a compendium or encyclopedia of beauty. This purpose may shift slightly.
Within the next few days, I expect the one thousandth visitor to this site (who will win absolutely nothing). And yet for one silly reader requesting an RSS feed, I abandoned a very sleek and simple layout theme, ruining the aesthetics of something supposedly dedicated to beauty. I argue that this grave sacrifice is in istelf beautiful (had I done it without complaining, which I didn’t), and shows today’s Beautiful Thing to be very powerful indeed. So to all the friends out there, you are beautiful and more important that the way a blog looks to a thousand strangers.
Devoted readers will note this post’s shocking use of the word “I”. Remember when I said “turning point in this blogs illustrious history”… dun, dun, dun. Stay tuned…
By the way, if you haven’t already, please click on the picture.
I am reminded of an article by an esteemed publication known as The Onion about the importance of opposable thumbs to the dominance of humanity. Despite its silliness, the article makes a valid point. Our hands make us special. They are the ultimate tools. They climb rocks, knead dough, snap, move pieces around a Monopoly Board… everything.
Go ahead, give yours a flex. Neat, huh? I love to watch the ligaments move slightly as I twitch each finger. I’m not even going to talk about the palms. So they’re creased, so what? Give me knuckles, and violinists and guys who can tear phone books in half over palmistry any day when we’re talking about interesting facets of the hand. And fingernails… what’s up with those anyway? But can you imagine if they were just nubbins with no nails. That’d be wierd.
A quick trip to Wikipedia netted this fun little example: “When John Hinckley attempted to assassinate President Ronald Reagan, all of his shots initially missed the President; however a bullet ricocheted off the bullet-proof windows of the Presidential limousine and struck Reagan in the chest. Thus, the windows made to protect the President from gunfire were partially responsible for his being shot.” (Wikipedia, I love you. You will soon be on this list.)
Irony is the universal bitch-slap that puts fools in thier place. Irony is swift and unmerciful. Irony is often deadly. Also pilferred from Wikipedia: ”In 1900, Charles Justice was a prison inmate at the Ohio State Penitentiary in Columbus. While performing cleaning detail duties in the death chamber, he devised an idea to improve the efficiency of the restraints on the electric chair. Justice designed metal clamps to replace the leather straps, thus allowing for the inmate to be secured more tautly and minimize the problem of burnt flesh. These revisions were incorporated into the chair and Justice was subsequently paroled from prison. Ironically, he was convicted in a robbery/murder and returned to prison 11 years later under a death sentence. On November 9, 1911, he died in the same electric chair that he had helped to improve.” Did I read that right? Was the guy’s last name “Justice?!”
Here is a fine wikipedia example that encapsulates the defeated, “Humph”- factor that quality irony induces: “Both hydrogen and oxygen are flammable elements, but together form water, which is non-flammable.”